Ordinary Story: Me and My Sister

If you’re going through tough times or facing difficulties in life, this story about family affection, growth, and inner struggle might give you a little strength—for it holds the perseverance of ordinary people amid fate, and the complex warmth of human nature.

I’m 25 now, and my sister is 22, still in college. I’ve started working, but the good days in my memory only go back to when I was six.

When we were little, our family was well-off. We owned a cement factory and three apartments in the city center. Everything changed when my dad got hooked on gambling and lost all our savings—the cement factory was gone, the apartments were sold, and my parents got divorced. My sister was awarded to my dad, while I stayed with my mom. Mom tried her best to keep my sister, but the court’s decision left her powerless. When I was ten, my dad could no longer make ends meet, so he sent my sister back to us.

During those days, debt collectors were always at our door. My grandpa bailed us out with his own money time and again; some people sprayed red paint on our door or stuck debt-collection notes, and once, a group of men broke in, ransacked the house, and injured my mom. I was too young to do anything but hold Mom and cry. I watched as the police came, took notes, and eventually let the matter drop. When my sister came back, she was seven—quiet, timid, and afraid of strangers. She must have had a hard time with Dad. From that day on, the first thing I did after school every day was pick her up. She never spoke unless I asked, and would just hold the corner of my clothes and follow me silently.

When I was 15, Mom passed away from carbon monoxide poisoning. The night before she left, she cried in her room, held my hand, and said, “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a good childhood.” She told me to take good care of my sister. I thought she was just upset for the moment and would be fine the next day. But the next day, what waited for me was a forever goodbye.

After Mom’s death, relatives who used to be close suddenly distanced themselves from us—Dad had borrowed a lot of money from them. Only a month after Mom was gone, they came to ask me to sell our house to pay off the debts, saying the remaining money would be enough for my sister and me to live on. Grandpa chased them all away, but he was already in poor health. Mom’s passing hit him hard, and he passed away two months later.

That day, I finally realized—I had no family left, only my sister.

Grandpa left us an apartment in the city center, but relatives swarmed like vultures smelling carrion, coming every day to pressure me into selling the house. Later, I just stopped opening the door, so they started waiting for us on our way to school. One morning, when my sister and I were heading to class, they blocked our path. A woman grabbed my sister’s schoolbag, scaring her into tears. My eyes turned red. I ran back home, grabbed a kitchen knife, and slashed at her hand—I was only 15 then, but for the first time, I understood that weakness only invites bullying.

The police mediated later. The woman didn’t press charges, but demanded that I sell the house to pay the debts. I agreed. I couldn’t go to jail—no one else would take care of my sister. My uncle helped sell the house, and looking back now, he must have cheated us out of a lot of money. He said the money from the sale wasn’t enough to cover Dad’s debts, and “out of kindness,” gave us 100,000 yuan for living expenses. At that time, I naively thanked him.

After that, my sister and I moved into the apartment Grandpa left us. I went to high school as a day student and came home every day after school to take care of her. She was very clingy—she often had nightmares at night, and would run to my room to sleep with me after waking up. It wasn’t until a few months before my college entrance exam in my third year of high school that she finally went back to her own room. Looking back now, a twisted seed had already been sown between us back then.

With the remaining money from the house sale and the savings Mom had secretly set aside, we barely managed to get by. I graduated from high school smoothly and got into a key university in the local area—only a few hundred meters from home. I didn’t want to be far from my sister, so I chose a school right on our doorstep. I cut off contact with all relatives. When some came to cause trouble, I was already over 1.8 meters tall and looked strong. Plus, with the history of having hurt someone with a knife before, I easily scared them away.

My sister entered high school and became much more outgoing. She loved joking around with me, but was shy and well-behaved in front of others. She was a good student, cute-looking, and many boys had crushes on her—groups of them would hover around her. She showed me the messages those boys sent her, and to put it plainly, they were disgustingly cheesy. I told her, “Don’t date in high school—wait until college.” She just nodded obediently.

In college, besides attending classes, I spent most of my time in the library or gym. Every weekend, I went home to see my sister—we cooked together, wandered in the park, or after exams, I took her to the movies or let her play video games. I always thought of myself as “acting like a father figure” (as the old Chinese saying goes), but sometimes I felt like what I was doing was breaking the “traditional rules.”

I’d long noticed that our relationship was too intimate, crossing the line of a normal brother-sister bond. She often had unnecessary physical contact with me—at home, she wouldn’t sit properly and would always lean on me. I told her to stop many times, but she’d pout and say, “You’re not a stranger to me.” That feeling of being trusted and relied on was nice, so I convinced myself I was just “overthinking” and let her have her way—like the “wizard’s split” described by Žižek: knowing what consequences might come if things continued, but refusing to face reality, keeping distance from the outcome, and letting it happen anyway.

When my sister was in her second year of high school, she told me, “I like you—not as a sister likes a brother.” I didn’t take it seriously, thinking she was confusing dependence with romantic love, so I just brushed it off. But after that, she kept finding excuses to ask me to pick her up from school—“I twisted my ankle,” “I have too many things to carry.” Every time I arrived, I’d find her perfectly fine, with nothing but a schoolbag in her hand. I was worried something might really happen to her, and I felt sorry for her lack of love, so I kept indulging her.

When she first entered her third year of high school, one day I was washing dishes, and she came into the kitchen and said, “Brother, there’s something on your neck.” I was about to ask what it was when she suddenly leaned in and kissed me on the lips. Then she acted like nothing had happened, said “I tricked you,” and ran out.

I froze, overwhelmed by sorrow, heartache, and confusion. She was my only family, and I didn’t want our relationship to turn abnormal. That night, we had our first fight. I said, “I’m your brother! This is a moral issue—how can we face Mom and Grandpa?” But she retorted, “What do these things matter to the dead?” Her words felt like a needle piercing my heart.

It was the first time I yelled at her. In the end, we made a deal: “You’re too young now. If you still feel this way when you’re 25, we’ll be together. Until then, we’re just normal siblings, and I won’t date anyone either.” She haggled, and we finally settled on 24. I didn’t want this to affect her college entrance exam, so I had to compromise.

My sister did really well in the college entrance exam. To celebrate, I took her on a one-week trip—we climbed mountains, visited ancient towns, went to an amusement park, watched movies every night, and ate the hot pot she’d been craving for a long time. She had a sensitive stomach, so I’d never let her eat hot pot before the exam, and she’d always obeyed. Watching her have fun, I realized that all these years, I’d been so focused on “taking care of her” that I’d ignored how much she’d been compromising for me. Her obedience and sweetness were all about顾及 my feelings. What girl her age wouldn’t want to act coquettishly or be willful in front of her parents? The only time she’d been willful was when she confessed her unusual feelings for me.

We argued about her college applications. She wanted to apply to my university, but I thought it would be a waste of her good grades and wanted her to choose a better school. Most people’s college choices shape their future paths, and this was also a chance to correct our twisted relationship. I insisted on choosing schools for her and filling out the application forms. But when we got the admission letter, I found out she’d secretly changed her choices. There was nothing I could do—when she looked at me with that innocent expression, her eyes shining with undisguised joy, scolding her would only be venting my anger.

My sister knew she’d made me angry, so she was extra attentive those days. Maybe she thought my anger was more serious than changing her application. Seeing her tiptoeing around me, I felt both angry and sorry for her. So many people fight tooth and nail to get into better schools, but she gave it up so easily. I was just her brother—I wasn’t mature enough, and lacked the ability and experience to discipline her like a parent. Facing all the challenges in life, I often felt helpless.

My sister and I became schoolmates. Friends around me all knew I had a “cute little sister.” At school, she’d deliberately call me “Senior,” and sometimes came to my classroom or the library to ask me to eat. Every time she showed up, some people would tease us. I never cared about others’ stares, so I never explained. Before long, people in my class thought I was dating a first-year学妹.

Life was relatively peaceful then—apart from my sister’s occasional “crossing the line,” there were no big troubles. But I always felt that the beauty of campus life was like a bubble, destined to burst on graduation day. We’re all like cogs on an assembly line—after being worn down to lose our edges, we’re thrown into the scrap heap. The next generation of cogs will keep working for the factory, only to be discarded once they lose their value. It’s an endless cycle.

Work is part of life, but for most people, life becomes a side note to work. A “normal, peaceful life” has become a luxury. That’s why I wanted my sister to study abroad. For her, I hoped she could live a happy life in the future—meet someone who loves her and treats her well, and build a family together. But when I told her about this idea, she only said, “Wherever you go, I’ll go too.” All the reasons I’d prepared to convince her were useless.

Applying for universities required high school and college GPAs, and my sister’s grades were good enough to meet all the requirements. I wanted to go abroad with her, but due to financial concerns, I decided to work first. I sold the apartment Grandpa left us, and the money was enough for her to study abroad. Luckily, I got a job at a stock exchange in China, and there was an opportunity to be transferred overseas—to the same city where my sister’s university was located.

Some people sent me private messages asking if I’d ever had feelings for my sister beyond family affection. To be honest, after that incident in my third year of high school, my feelings did shift a little. I’d had twisted thoughts, but I never dared to cross the line. I always thought her feelings for me were mostly due to long-term dependence. Now, I save a sum of money every month. I plan that when she falls in love and finds her own happiness someday, I’ll give her all the money I’ve saved and gradually fade out of her life—becoming a “brother who only shows up when she needs him.” Of course, it’s also possible that she’ll still insist on being with me when she’s 24. If that happens, even if I have to be labeled a “scoundrel” for this forbidden love, I’ll accept it.

Now, my sister has made her own circle of friends abroad, and my work is going smoothly. Everything seems to be getting better. But the tug-of-war between us never stops—last time we traveled to Spain, she only booked one double room, saying it was “to save money.” When I wanted to change to a single room, she held me back and refused to let me go. In the end, I had to give in. I know I shouldn’t have compromised, but every time she acts coquettish or vulnerable, I lose my resolve.

I’ve always avoided sharing a room with her—after all, we’re of the opposite sex, and she never minds showing intimacy, which always gives me a headache. I also know that everyone has moments of weakness, and I don’t want to test my own humanity. Just like the “Four Observations of Abstinence” from Yu Hai Hui Kuang (a classic Chinese book on self-cultivation), even eminent monks have to imagine “a woman’s messy look after waking up or her embarrassment after drinking too much” to restrain their desires. As an ordinary person, I should be even more careful to “stay away from dangerous situations” and fundamentally reduce the risk of crossing the line.

One night, she slipped into my bed. While fighting over the quilt with me, she said, “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” When we talked about ghosts, she suddenly asked, “Where are Mom and Grandpa now?” I lied and said, “They’re in heaven, watching over us.” But she replied, “Then when you see them someday, you’ll definitely get in trouble—who knows if there’s a ‘forbidden love’ rule in heaven too?”

She also asked me, “What would you do if I died someday?” I didn’t dare to answer, but in my heart, I thought, “If you’re gone, I don’t want to live alone either.”

When we went to the amusement park, she insisted on riding all the thrilling rides and even wanted to drag me to bungee jump. She said, “We can jump together, tied to the same rope. If the rope breaks, it’ll be like dying for love—how romantic!” I refused—she didn’t know I have a severe fear of heights. When I accompanied her on those rides, I was so scared I felt like I was half-dead.

I know both of us are “broken” in a way—our lack of affection in childhood made us seek security in each other, and gradually fostered this twisted relationship. I also understand that love requires “a soul you can connect with,” and my sister definitely fits that. But siblings have no future together, and we can never have children. Once the passion of love fades, we won’t even be able to go back to being family. That’s why I still hope someone who understands her better than me will appear and give her the happiness I can’t provide.

In my fourth year of college, I almost broke our promise. Back then, I got close to a girl. I knew I had feelings for her, and I also knew I was going abroad soon and had my sister to worry about. But I kept putting off rejecting her advances. Until one day, I helped her move, and she treated me to dinner—and my sister saw us. She pretended not to notice and walked away on her own.

When I got home that day, my sister greeted me as if nothing had happened. After taking a shower, she sat right next to me and pressed my head onto her lap. I felt awkward and tried to resist, but she held me down and stroked my hair gently. She said, “Brother, you’ve always been lonely. You never talk about your troubles, but I know everything. You never lose your temper with me; you don’t jump for joy when you’re happy, and you don’t cry out loud when you’re sad. No matter how bad things get, I never worry because you always find a way to fix everything for me. But I know—when you saw my college entrance exam results, you cried secretly in your room. I saw your red eyes, the tears you hadn’t wiped away, and the photos of Mom and Grandpa you hadn’t put away. That’s when I remembered—you’re just a boy three years older than me.”

I wanted to say something, but my throat felt tight. She whispered, sobbing, “I’m scared you’ll leave me. I don’t want to share your care with anyone else. When I saw you with that girl, my chest hurt so much. I’m sorry—I know this puts you in a tough spot, but I just can’t help it.”

As she stroked my head, I felt an unprecedented sense of peace. But in the face of her vulnerability, I had no words to respond.

Now, it seems like this “forbidden love” is almost inevitable. I could easily let things take their course and be with her. But since Mom and Grandpa passed away, my role has been more than just her brother—I have the responsibility to guide her like a parent. I’ve always hidden my weakness behind a strong front, showing her only a reliable, capable version of myself.

I’ve always wondered: does my sister love the real me? I know the “sensible and trustworthy brother” she sees isn’t the real me. Maybe she only loves certain parts of me that fit her ideal of perfection. So even if we end up together as we promised, I still need to hold onto my bottom line. It’s not that I have strong moral standards, or that I think this kind of relationship will bring me great guilt. What I’m worried about is the psychological changes this act will bring, and how it will interfere with our future choices and judgments.

My sister will probably go to graduate school, maybe even get a PhD. I can’t keep studying like her—I still need to think about our finances. The environments and social circles she’ll be exposed to will be more and more different from mine, and her thoughts might change. That’s why I want to leave more possibilities open for both of us. If we cross that final line now, there will be no turning back. The cost of giving in to a moment of desire is too high. For now, the best I can do is maintain the status quo.

A netizen sent me a private message telling me about the difficulties he was going through. He said he admired my willpower, asked how I got through those tough times, and hoped I could give him some guidance. I’m grateful for his trust—willing to share his inner thoughts and true feelings with me. But he overestimates me. I’m not strong or brave; I just had no other choice. I’ve been angry, complained about my fate, and wondered why I had to suffer so much—why me? But reality doesn’t care about your anger or resentment. Why do I have to go through countless hardships to “achieve enlightenment”? Why can someone else “attain virtue instantly” just by “giving up evil”? Why could Cao Cao (a notorious warlord in ancient China) be revered despite his cruelty, while Liu Bei (known for his benevolence) had to sell straw sandals to make a living?

The world is just like this—those who are truly good at fighting rarely gain fame for their deeds. I once wallowed in sorrow and pain for a long time. I even told myself, “This is just a nightmare; I’ll wake up soon.” I waited and waited, until the sun set below the horizon and the sky was filled with sunset glow; until the sun rose again, bringing a new dawn; and until the next sunset. But the pain remained, and things didn’t get better. Instead, the sound of my sister’s crying and her falling tears made my heart ache even more.

I refused the “help” of those relatives with ulterior motives and made up my mind to raise my sister on my own. I set goals for myself, made plans, and stopped dwelling on the pain of things I couldn’t change. I followed my plans step by step, working so hard every day that I fell asleep as soon as I lay down—leaving no time for sorrow. Later, the achievements I made in my studies gradually eased the pain and confusion.

I hate it when people say, “Young people need to endure more hardships.” Hardship itself is meaningless, cruel, and repetitive. It only drains your energy and time, trapping you in a cycle of pain. Enduring hardship isn’t about suffering; it’s about the ability to focus on a goal for a long time. During this process, you give up entertainment, useless socializing, and meaningless consumption, and bear the loneliness of being misunderstood. The achievements you gain don’t come from suffering, but from your self-control, discipline, and independent thinking during this journey.

Everyone’s experience and growth environment are different. Just as some people heal their whole lives with their childhood memories, others spend their whole lives healing their childhood wounds. Don’t care about the stares or mockery of others along the way. Remember—people with true insight will never use themselves as a measuring stick to laugh at others.

Looking back, I’ve written so much in a messy way. Limited by my vocabulary and expression, there are many thoughts in my mind that I can’t put into words well. I just hope this can help that netizen a little.

No matter what direction my relationship with my sister takes in the future, I’m ready. I’ll firmly do what I think is right. To all netizens who have been in the same difficult and painful situation as me—please believe that the long night will eventually end at dawn, and the light that belongs to you will come.

Finally, I’d like to share my motto with you, as encouragement: “If my heart is upright, I will go forward even if thousands stand in my way.”