Daughter An'an's surgery fee of 380,000 was saved up by Su Nian scraping fish scales at the aquatic market for three years in the early morning hours, her right-hand chilblains splitting over and over. The money was transferred away by her husband three days before entering the operating room, leaving only three words—bottomless pit. The divorce complaint was delivered right to the fish stall: the house, car, and factory belong to him, even the daughter belongs to him, and she is also saddled with 1.6 million in debt. But he doesn't know that over these three years she quietly hid a stack of pay slips, an old ledger, and a daughter he had never looked at straight. This time, she does not plan to kneel again.