My Mother's Lessons, My Revenge

My mother always said that people don't learn from being told; they learn instantly from experience.

When I was little, I reached for a kettle of boiling water, and she just stood by and watched coldly. I screamed and cried when I got burned.

Good, it hurts, she said. If it doesn't hurt, you won't remember.

I didn't know how to read traffic lights, and she didn't warn me; instead, she urged me to walk faster.

I got hit by an electric scooter and was thrown flying, needing seven stitches.

But she told me, "Getting hit once will teach you a lesson for life. It's a good thing."

I became cautious and composed. To escape my toxic family, I studied hard and got into a top university.

My mother, however, believed it was a testament to her successful parenting. She'd tell everyone that this was how you had to raise kids C talking sense was useless; they'd understand once they suffered a loss.

Later, when she made a spectacle of herself in our upscale neighborhood, I stayed silent.

When she got completely taken in by a scamming group,

I watched her fall right into their trap with cold eyes.

Doesn't she love learning from experience? Then let her have her fill!

After my dad passed away, my mom packed up bags and bags, saying that after raising me for so long, it was time for her to come enjoy the good life in the big city.

But she didn't even make it into the complex before security mistook her for a thief and detained her.

When I arrived, my mom was being pinned against a wall by a security guard. Her hair was disheveled, and she was flailing wildly.

"Let me go! My daughter lives here! What right do you have to grab me?!"

People around us were holding up their phones, pointing and whispering.

"That lady was climbing over the fence just now, acting so shady. She definitely looks like trouble."

"No decent person would do that. I heard thieves these days target fancy neighborhoods."

"She's pretty quick on her feet, probably a veteran."

"Bullshit! I'm not a thief!" My mom struggled violently, spitting on the ground. "Get my daughter! I want my daughter!"

I walked over. The security guard saw me and looked like I was his savior.

His neck and face were covered in bleeding scratches; she'd clearly put up a fight.

"Are you family?" the guard asked me.

I nodded.

"She didn't have an access card and insisted on forcing her way in. I told her visitor registration was an option, but then she refused when I asked for her ID!" The guard's face was flushed with anger. "She took a detour to climb the fence and was mistaken for a thief by patrol. Not only was she foul-mouthed, but she hit me!"

"So what if I hit you! You worthless security guard, who do you think you are! How dare you stop me? I'm going to report you!"

My mom yelled, her face pressed against the wall, twisting her head back.

The guard's face darkened.

"Call the police," I told the guard. "You shouldn't have to put up with this for nothing."

The guard was stunned.

"After all, experience teaches you instantly." I shrugged indifferently. "So let's make sure she learns her lesson."

That's when my mom finally spotted me.

"You little brat, say that again?!" Her voice shot up, piercingly sharp. "Your own mother is being bullied like this, and you're siding with an outsider! Do you have no conscience?"

"Do you know how hard it was for me to raise you? Your dad just died, and you treat me like this? If you'd come out and picked me up earlier, would I have had to climb the fence? Did you even give me an access card?"

"I did."

My mom didn't react immediately.

"I gave it to you on Dad's funeral day. It was on your nightstand."

She opened her mouth, her eyes blank, then a look of sudden realization dawned on her.

"You ungrateful girl! You didn't even remind me! I thought it was just some useless ad flyer and already threw it away!"

"Remind you?" I chuckled. "Mom, don't you always say that you only learn when you suffer a loss? I was just trying to help you develop your organizational skills. Experience teaches you instantly; next time, you'll remember to put things in their proper place."

Some people around us snickered.

"That lady is something else, so unreliable and still blaming her daughter."

"Poor girl, stuck with a mom like that."

My mom's face flushed then paled, her lips trembling for a long time before she finally managed to blurt out, "Don't give me that nonsense! Just make them let me go!"

"Alright, two choices." I pulled out my phone. "First, you apologize to the security guard and pay for his medical expenses. Second, the police take you in, and you face detention and fines. You choose."

"You ungrateful wretch! I gave birth to you, I raised you..."

"Choose."

She glared at me, her eyes bloodshot.

More and more people gathered to watch the scene.

The security guard lowered his restraining device, also waiting.

Seeing her delay, I lost patience and started dialing numbers, ready to call the police.

"Wait!" She finally lowered her head, squeezing out through gritted teeth: "I'm sorry."

The security guard didn't say anything.

She gritted her teeth, pulled out a handful of crumpled bills from her pocket, and shoved them into the guard's hand without counting.

"That's all?" I frowned, turning to the guard. "If that's not enough, maybe you should scratch my mom a couple of times too. Otherwise, she won't learn her lesson."

"I'll get it! I'll get it, alright?!" My mom shrieked, shooting me a furious look, and pulled out a few more bills.

I nodded, and only then did the security guard accept it.

I swiped my access card, and my mom dashed inside as if escaping.

Once inside the apartment, she started yelling obscenities.

"You unfilial daughter! You sided with an outsider to make your mother suffer! And you made me apologize to that worthless security guard? Does he deserve it?"

"That rotten security guard looked down on me! This isn't over; I'll make him pay!"

I nodded. "Go ahead and do whatever you want. After all, you learn your lesson when you suffer a loss."

She was choked into silence by my words and stormed back to her room in a fit of rage.

The next day, I was at work, my phone bombarded with messages.

My mom sent a pile of photos, all of the persimmon trees in the complex.

"Can I pick these?" she asked me.

I ignored her.

"If you don't answer, I'm picking them."

A while later, she added, "Watch how I get back at that rotten security guard. I'll make sure he loses his job."

I smirked coldly. Go ahead and cause more trouble. Let's see how big a fall you take this time.

When I got home that evening, I opened the door and froze.

The living room was completely filled with persimmons; there was nowhere to even step.

My mom sat on the couch, legs crossed, happily munching on snacks.

Several empty persimmon peels were on the table.

"You're back." She beamed with triumph. "Today I finally got my revenge."

"You picked all the persimmons?"

"Yes! Not a single one left!" My mom gloated. "Today I saw that security guard watering the trees, so these persimmons must be his. I'll let him grow them! I'll let him act all smug! I picked them all bare, I'll infuriate him!"

I was silent for two seconds.

"These are ornamental persimmons. You can't eat them."

My mom's hand, cracking snacks, paused.

"And he didn't plant them; it's his job to water and maintain them."

"Bullshit!" She slammed down a snack peel. "His job? Why would he be so dedicated, watering them so carefully? I'm telling you, he planted them!"

"Rich people are so stuck up! They look so good, but you can't eat them? Who are you trying to fool?" She grabbed a persimmon, rubbed it on her clothes, and took a big bite. "These are all pretty sweet, aren't they?"

Chewing on the persimmon, she grew smug again. "Even if he didn't plant them, with the persimmons gone, his boss will definitely chew him out. That's called increasing his workload!"

I looked at her, saying nothing.

"You little brat, why are you staring at me?"

"The complex has surveillance cameras," I reminded her.

She paused, then waved a dismissive hand. "So what about cameras? What's the big deal about picking a few rotten persimmons? Are they going to arrest me?"

No sooner had she spoken than the doorbell rang.

I went to open the door.

The property manager stood at the entrance, next to a police officer in uniform.

"Hello, Officer," the officer said, flashing his badge. "Is your mother home?"

My mom heard the commotion and sprang up from the couch.

Seeing the police, she panicked.

"What's wrong?" Her voice trembled.

The officer walked in, saw the floor covered in persimmons, and frowned.

"Did you pick these persimmons?"

My mom's face instantly went white. "I... I just picked them for fun."

"For fun?" The property manager scoffed. "Those are Japanese Sweetheart Persimmons, a valuable ornamental variety. One plant costs over four hundred dollars! They finally bore fruit, and you picked every single one, not a single one left!"

My mom's legs went weak, and she leaned on the couch to steady herself.

"The surveillance cameras clearly captured everything," the property manager pulled out his phone. "You were picking from one in the afternoon until five, running back and forth over a dozen times!"

"Destroying other people's property, a significant amount, constitutes a criminal offense. You'll have to come with us."

The officer pulled out handcuffs.

"I didn't know!" My mom's voice was shrill and piercing. "I really didn't know! I thought they were just ordinary persimmons!"

She sharply turned her head and glared at me. "You! You knew all along, didn't you? I asked you if I could pick them, why didn't you answer me?"

I said nothing.

"You did it on purpose! You deliberately set me up!"

She lunged at me, trying to hit me, but the officer quickly intervened.

"No hitting!"

A crowd of neighbors had already gathered at the door, craning their necks to look inside.

"Isn't that the one who climbed the fence yesterday?"

"It really is her. Now she's picking ornamental persimmons? That's wild."

"Take her away, take her away, stop her from causing more trouble here."

My mom's face turned a deep crimson, and she roared, "You dare lay a hand on me?! Taking someone away just for a few rotten persimmons? What kind of world do we live in?!"

No sooner had she finished speaking than her face suddenly changed. She clutched her stomach and slowly bent down, squatting.

"Ow..." Her face was pale.

"Stop faking it!" The property manager frowned. "You were just trying to hit someone, and now you're putting on an act again?"

"I'm not faking it, my stomach hurts so bad..."

Her body went limp, and she collapsed directly to the ground, writhing and clutching her stomach.

Then a terrible stench filled the air.

The neighbors covered their noses and backed away.

"Oh my God!"

"What is that awful smell?!"

"She had an accident!"

A puddle spread on the floor, and my mom was curled up in it, her face pale and yellowish, forehead covered in sweat.

"Eating seven or eight persimmons in one go, and ornamental ones at that," I looked down at her. "It's a miracle she didn't get sick earlier."

She gasped for air, her mouth open. "Quick... take me to the hospital."

The officer also covered his nose and retreated to the door. "Let's call an ambulance first."

The property manager made the call.

My mom lay in that mess, in pain and reeking, trembling all over.

She looked up at me, her eyes filled with hatred.

"Mom," I leaned against the doorframe, "didn't you say that experience teaches you instantly?"

She glared at me, her lips trembling.

"This time, that should be enough to remember for a lifetime, right?"

The ambulance arrived.

As the stretcher was carried out, everyone in the hallway tried to get out of the way.

When she was lifted into the ambulance, she was cursing.

"You heartless monster, you conspired against your own mother, may you be struck by lightning! Ow... you just wait, I won't let you off..."

My mom was taken to the emergency room.

She had her stomach pumped and was put on an IV drip.

Because I insisted on not paying for her, saying it would help her learn her lesson, she had to use her own retirement savings to cover the cost of the persimmons and medical bills.

After this incident, my mom was quiet for a few days.

But soon, I noticed she seemed to be plotting something.

A few times I saw her whispering with Linda, the neighbor from the next bed. Both of them immediately stopped when they saw me.

I knew Linda; she lived in our complex too.

Her daughter supposedly ran some investment business and was always dressed in flashy jewelry.

Every time she came to the hospital, she carried bags and bags of tonics, and my mom's eyes would light up.

One day, I came home from work and found she had already been discharged.

My mom stood in the middle of the living room, dressed neatly, with a suitcase beside her.

Linda had her arm linked with my mom's, and they were as close as sisters.

"You're back?" My mom's face held a smug, triumphant smile. "I'm not living here anymore."

"I raised you all this time, only to raise an ungrateful wretch." She took two steps forward, pointing her finger at my nose. "Let me tell you, I'm not relying on you anymore. I've found a way to make money, and when I get rich, don't come crying and begging me!"

Linda chimed in, "Exactly, relying on yourself is better than relying on anyone else. It's never too late for a strong woman to start her own business! I told you, this kind of daughter, we can just pretend we never had her!"

I almost laughed out loud. "What kind of opportunity could you possibly have?"

My mom, however, became even more smug. She pulled out her phone and shoved it in front of my face.

"See? Invested a hundred bucks yesterday, cashed out a thousand today! Linda's daughter is a big boss, helping people get rich, a 10x return on investment!"

I looked at the phone, then at my mom's excited face.

"10x return?"

"Yes! With a little effort, it can even double!" She grinned, her eyes narrowing into slits. "I've finally figured it out. What's the point of all that education? Still unmarried at your age, nobody wants you. Look at Linda's daughter, how capable she is!"

Linda patted her on the shoulder. "Don't rush, dear. I'll introduce you to a wealthy businessman later; you can start a new chapter in life. You look so young, not like you're over fifty, someone will definitely want you."

My mom was grinning from ear to ear.

"Alright," she picked up her suitcase. "I'm leaving. Don't come looking for me anymore."

I stood at the door, watching her walk out.

"Mom."

She turned back.

"If you keep this up, you're going to regret it."

Her face darkened. "Bullshit! You're just jealous, aren't you?"

Linda pulled her along. "Don't mind her, let's go."

The two of them stepped into the elevator.

Before the doors closed, she was still smiling.

After moving out, my mom seemed like a changed person.

My Ins feed was flooded by her posts every day.

Yesterday, she posted her bank balance: fifty thousand dollars.

Caption: Follow the right people, do the right things, and money will practically throw itself at you.

The day before yesterday, she posted photos from a fancy party.

She was wearing an ill-fitting evening gown, arm linked with an old man's, smiling with a face full of wrinkles under the crystal lights.

Caption: Happiness, it's never too late to pursue.

Three days ago, she posted gifts.

A pile of fake designer bags and watches, obviously bought wholesale, with flashy, sparkly packaging.

Caption: Linda is too generous! I told her not to, but she insisted. This is a true friend!

Below every post, she'd leave comments mocking me: Some people's education went to waste, they don't know how to respect their parents! People with narrow vision are like this, making a meager salary every month, they'll never get rich in their lifetime! So laughable!

A couple of days later, the HOA called me. "Your mom brought someone to look at the apartment today, saying she wanted to sell it urgently, even twenty thousand dollars below market price was fine. I asked her where she'd live after selling, and she said in a mansion. Is... are you aware of this?"

I said, "Don't worry about her. Let her sell it."

The person on the other end paused. "You're not going to try to convince her otherwise? That's your family's old apartment."

"I can't convince her," I said. "Besides, she's determined to self-destruct, and I can't stop her."

Three days later, the apartment was sold.

My mom sent me a voice message, background noise loud, like she was at a celebratory banquet.

"You little brat! The money's in my account! This time I'm investing two hundred thousand, and in a couple of days, it'll be two million! Then I'll buy a mansion and hire a maid, and you can get on your knees and beg me, I still won't let you in!"

I didn't reply. I blocked her.

My cousin, Taylor, called.

"Chloe, your mom told me to tell you that she's hosting a dinner at a five-star hotel the day after tomorrow. She's invited all the relatives and said you absolutely have to come. She wants to publicly embarrass you."

"Tell her not to worry; I'll definitely be there."

Taylor's tone was worried. "You're really going? Aren't you afraid she'll cause a scene?"

I chuckled. "How else can I watch the show?"

After all, the police were also ready to make their move.

Not only was I going, but I was also preparing a big surprise for her.

Since she loved having experience teach her, I would give her a lesson she'd never forget.