Working hard for my children all my life, hollowing out family savings to secure peace and comfort for them, I was willing to give without a single complaint. But reality slaps hard, attentive children are all illusions, no one takes me in during times of crisis, and in my late years I am desolate, seeing through the warmth and coldness of human relationships. Fortunately, the old house demolition and turnaround gave me the confidence and fallback exclusively my own. Past the age of sixty, I finally see through it all; children are ultimately passersby, relying on others is not as good as relying on oneself. From then on, I let go of the obsession of being a devoted mother, neither binding, compromising, nor humble, loving myself well, and living out the rest of my life in peace.