Shengliver’s Note: This teen writer Bo’an has a brother. She is in Year 11, her sibling in Year 10. Their parents migrated to town when Bo’an was a child. After the brother was born, Bo’an babysat him. She looked after him, fed him three meals a day and abused him on her moody days. Even when she was angry with him, the brother still followed her like a shadow, calling her sis, sis.

You would not believe it, Shengliver, if I said I was a dictator. I became one after my brother came to us. He was my meek follower. Every time I got mad, I would vent my anger on him.

Anytime my parents were telling me off, my brother would come over and console me. I would then abuse him and send him away. I thought it was a disgrace that my parents’ scolding me was witnessed by my admirer. It would tarnish my image in his mind. If my brother did not come and sympathise, however, I would lose my temper, accusing him of showing little concern over me.

Our family of four used to dwell in a poky rented house. My parents had practically nothing when we set foot in the city years ago, leaving behind our hometown in Hebei. It was a miserable existence in the poor lodgings for years. From time to time, my family would go and treat ourselves to a night or two at a hotel room. That was the happiest occasion, when we could take showers or baths, watch TV on a big screen, sleep on comfy beds, and indulge ourselves in decent dining.

If I wanted to go to a hotel and my parents did not agree, I would command my subject to make a scene at home. My brother followed my order. It was a very effective way because my parents absolutely adored my brother. It never failed. In their eyes, their son was their little emperor.

As much as I abused my brother while he was toddling, hovering around me, now the tables have been turned. Towering over me, the handsome, athletic lad often “bullies” me, and I am no match for him.

Time flies. A lot of things are not as they were, but the bond between my brother and me is as strong as ever, if not stronger.