On a hit variety show, my celebrity daughter faced the cameras and complained that despite being our biological child, she always felt like an unwanted guest in our home. "They were always telling me to get out, and they’d say things like, 'If you're so tough, go support yourself.'" "Are your parents like this too?" The entire internet instantly started pitying her, encouraging her to cut ties with us. They even shoved microphones in my face, demanding I explain my "abusive behavior." I pressed my lips together, utterly speechless. "Explain what?" I asked. "Explain how she gave me a live snake as a necklace, cockroaches as earrings, and a bullfrog as a music box for my birthday?" "Or should I explain the time she bit through a mercury thermometer and chewed on the toxic liquid metal like a popsicle?" "Or maybe talk about the time she missed her grandpa in the middle of the night, went to the backyard to dig him up, and ended up digging up the wrong yard?" Everyone in the studio, including my daughter, went dead silent. Then, the internet's narrative completely reversed. [The fact that they only told you to 'get out' and didn't end your life just shows that the law is working.] [It turns out kids really only remember feeling wronged, and completely forget the whole picture...] [When will her parents' childhood trauma finally dissipate?] 1 When the phone rang, I was in the middle of repotting a clivia plant. The caller ID read "Riley the Daredevil"—my exclusive nickname for my daughter, Riley. This kid had been recklessly brave since she was little. When she grew up, she marched straight into Hollywood and became one of the few hardcore female action stars who insisted on doing all her own stunts. "Mom, are you free? Come do a variety show with me." Riley's voice came through the receiver, crisp and direct as always. I instinctively frowned, pausing the trowel in my hand. "I'm not going." "I'm not going to get into a fistfight, and I'm definitely not going to perform scaling a tree in ten seconds." A helpless sigh came from the other end of the line. "Mom, what are you thinking? It's not that kind of blood-and-gore show." She seemed a bit exasperated. "It's a family-oriented variety show promoting career equality called The Other Side of the Profession. The producers invite celebrities from different fields to bring a family member who works in a completely different industry, just to show everyone what real life looks like." "Dad is in Hawaii studying volcanoes and won't be back anytime soon. Otherwise, we could have gone as a whole family." Hearing this, my heart softened a bit. My husband, Nolan, is a geologist who spends most of the year chasing active volcanoes around the globe. Our family of three was indeed rarely in the same place at the same time. But I still wasn't reassured. TV networks always love to manufacture a gimmick. "Is there really no life-threatening danger? I won't have to jump off a cliff or wrestle an alligator, right?" "Mom!" Riley's voice spiked an octave, then quickly dropped, carrying a hint of exasperated amusement. "Can you just trust me this once? It's just chatting and playing games, absolutely safe." To persuade me, she actually dragged out her syllables, using a whiny, pleading tone. "Please, Mom—" I froze, the trowel in my hand clattering to the floor. Ever since my daughter entered the stunt industry, she had completely severed ties with the word "delicate." She was resilient, independent, and never showed weakness. I had teased her more than once, asking her to act cute for me, but she would always stiffen her neck and say: "Mom, I'm a grown woman, not a little girl. What's the point of acting cute? It's gross." At this moment, that long-lost, awkward pleading tone felt like a warm current melting my heart. I was thrilled, but I deliberately played hard to get: "Talk is cheap." "Huh?" "How about this," I cleared my throat, suppressing a smile. "You owe me one. Next time I ask you to act cute, you have to do exactly what you just did, and I'll agree to go." The other end of the line was silent for a full five seconds before she practically roared, "Deal!" Immediately after, the phone was hung up at lightning speed. I happily wiped my hands and grabbed my phone to text my husband. [Nolan, wait till you get back, I have a treasure to show you. Our daughter knows how to act cute!] The message sent, sinking like a stone in the ocean. He was probably deep in some signal blind spot studying a volcano. 2 On the day of the premiere recording, I arrived at the studio right on time. Riley's team was waiting for me at the entrance and escorted me to a private green room backstage. The show, The Other Side of the Profession, had a very interesting premise. In today's internet age, people's prejudices about different industries have become deeply ingrained. The show invited celebrities to bring a family member from a different field on camera, aiming to break stereotypes and promote career equality. As a new-generation action goddess, Riley was incredibly popular. Her fight scenes were clean and brutal, she never used a stunt double, and she never complained about the pain. She had cemented her place in the industry through sheer grit. But because of this, the public was full of wild speculations about her family background. Many people naturally assumed that a girl who pushed herself so hard must have come from extreme hardship, forcing her to be this way. I had just sat down in the green room when a young production assistant handed me an iPad. The live stream comments were already scrolling across the screen. [Riley's mom is finally showing her face? I'm so curious what kind of person she is.] [Blind guess: she's from a rural, patriarchal family, which is why Riley works so hard to prove herself.] [Looking at her back in the teaser, she's dressed very plainly. Probably just an ordinary housewife. I bet she has a deadbeat brother Riley has to support. Ugh, poor sister.] [Don't overthink it, but looking at Riley's ruthlessness, her family conditions probably aren't great.] I looked at these comments and found them hilarious. A brother? Having one "Daredevil" in the house was enough to drive me crazy. If I had another one, this family would have fallen apart long ago. I silently scoffed and set the tablet aside. Not long after, there was a knock on the door, and the other two groups of guests arrived. The producers had arranged a shared lounge to let everyone get familiar beforehand. One group was the trending singer-songwriter duo, Mason and his girlfriend, Zoey. Mason sang the songs Zoey wrote for him. They were the recognized golden couple of the industry. They really did look in love—inseparable, whispering to each other, their eyes full of smiles. The other group was the Oscar-winning actress Clara and her younger sister, Peyton. Clara had been famous for years. She was humble, completely lacking any diva attitude, and immediately greeted us with a warm smile. Riley politely responded. "Riley, long time no see. I watched your new movie, your action scenes were so cool," Clara praised sincerely. "You're too kind, Clara," Riley smiled. However, her younger sister Peyton, who was trailing behind, had a completely different attitude. Her chin was pointed at the ceiling. Her eyes swept over us with undisguised scrutiny and contempt. Her gaze first landed on Mason and Zoey, and her lips curled into a sneer. "A guy who writes cheap pop songs gets to be on the same show as us?" Mason and Zoey's faces instantly fell, but their good manners kept them from lashing out. Next, Peyton's gaze turned to Riley and me. She looked up and down at Riley's casual athletic wear—chosen for comfort—and wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Smells like sweat. Looks dirty and gross." "Fighting and killing all day long, not a single trace of femininity." 3 The moment those words left her mouth, the temperature in the room dropped to freezing. Riley's eyes went cold, her hands unconsciously balling into fists on her knees. I patted the back of her hand, signaling her to stay calm. "Peyton!" Clara's face darkened, and she immediately shut her down. "Don't be so rude! Apologize to everyone right now!" But Peyton didn't care about her sister at all. She scoffed dismissively and fired back. "Apologize for what? I'm telling the truth." "Sister, what are you so arrogant about? You just entered Hollywood a few years before me, right?" "You just got lucky and won an award. You wait, in a few years, I'll definitely be more famous than you!" With that, she tugged at her expensive designer dress and stormed out of the green room. Clara's face went from pale to red. She was humiliated beyond belief. She took a deep breath, turned to us, and her face was full of apology. "I'm so sorry. My sister... she just entered the industry and has been spoiled by our family. She's arrogant and speaks without thinking. Please don't take it to heart." Mason forced a smile, holding his girlfriend's hand. "It's fine, Clara. We don't mind." I also smiled and nodded. "It's okay. Young people have tempers, it's normal." Everyone tacitly agreed to move past the awkward exchange. Under the urging of the staff, we walked out to the main recording stage together. I glanced at the iPad the assistant had handed me again. The comments had already exploded over that scene. [My god, who does this Peyton think she is? How dare she talk like that in front of everyone?] [She's always had this attitude since her debut. With her family's connections and resources, it's normal for her to be arrogant.] [To be fair, her acting is decent. The supporting roles she's played were pretty good. Let's just watch the show and not get too emotionally invested in their private lives.] [Are you a saint? Rude is rude, what does that have to do with acting? I feel so bad for Riley and Mason.] The spotlight suddenly hit us, cutting off all distracting thoughts. The host's enthusiastic voice boomed, and the show officially began. Holding his cue cards, the host announced in his usual upbeat tone: "Welcome, everyone, to The Other Side of the Profession!" "Today we have three very special groups of guests. They will join us to talk about the untold stories behind their careers and families." The show proceeded smoothly. The first segment was a warm-up where the guests introduced their families and professions. The microphone was first handed to Clara. She was wearing a tasteful champagne-colored gown, her makeup flawless. Every gesture exuded the grace and elegance that only comes with time. As a household-name actress, she barely needed an introduction. The host showered her with praise, mentioning her classic roles and recent international awards. The live audience and the comments were full of goodwill. "Clara, today you brought your sister Peyton, correct?" "Peyton is also a rising star in our entertainment industry. Welcome!" The host turned the microphone to Peyton. Peyton smoothed her skirt and took the microphone, her face wearing an expression of entitled arrogance. "Hello everyone, I'm Peyton." She kept it brief, acting as if saying another word would be beneath her. 4 As soon as she finished speaking, I glanced at the iPad on the small table next to me. The comments were scrolling rapidly. [Didn't they say they were bringing family members from other professions? Why did the actress bring an actress sister?] [Isn't that breaking the rules? What were the producers thinking?] [Heh, what else? Nepotism. Look at her attitude, acting like she's God's gift to the world, like everyone owes her money.] [I gotta say, Clara is such a nice person. Why is her sister so awful?] The host had clearly seen similar feedback and expertly smoothed things over. "Although both Peyton and Clara are in the entertainment industry, one is a veteran, acclaimed actress, and the other is a newcomer with unlimited potential. The stages they are at and the challenges they face are completely different." "In a sense, they represent the 'other side' within the acting industry itself, don't they?" He covered the issue flawlessly, temporarily quieting the netizens' doubts. The microphone was then passed to Mason. He looked slightly nervous, tightening his grip on Zoey's hand. He briefly introduced himself as a singer, then looked tenderly at the girl beside him. "There have been a lot of speculations online about my private life, and I've never officially responded." "Today, I want to take this opportunity to officially introduce her to everyone." He paused, his voice clear and firm. "This is Zoey. Not only is she the brilliant lyricist who wrote many of my songs, but she is also my girlfriend who has been by my side for many years." A wave of good-natured cheers and applause filled the studio. Zoey's cheeks flushed, but she graciously squeezed Mason's hand and smiled at the camera. The comments instantly exploded. [Ahhhh! It's official! My ship is real!] [I knew it! Those lyrics were too sweet to be written by anyone other than a real couple!] [Sobbing, my imaginary husband is gone... but I have to give them my blessing. They look so perfect together.] [The real-life version of the musical genius and his muse! Locked in!] I looked at the two of them and felt happy for them too. Young people loving openly and honestly is a beautiful thing. Finally, the host's gaze fell on Riley and me. "Lastly, let's welcome our wildly popular action star, Riley, and her... very mysterious mother!" The focus of the entire studio instantly shifted to us. As the most daring and capable action star of her generation, Riley had always been shrouded in mystery. She never talked about her family, and her parents had never appeared in the public eye. The outside world's speculations about us could probably fill a hundred-episode TV drama. Riley took the microphone, her words as concise as ever. "Hello everyone, I'm Riley. This is my mom, Grace." The host smiled at me. "Grace, hello! We are all incredibly curious." "Riley is so outstanding, and we all want to know what kind of family raised her." "What professions are you and Riley's father in?" I looked at the camera and spoke calmly: "Her father is named Nolan. He's a geologist. He primarily studies volcanic activity and is abroad for most of the year." A small gasp of awe echoed through the studio. A geologist chasing volcanoes—to most people, that profession sounded both distant and incredibly hardcore. I paused and continued: "My name is Grace. I am a master artisan. I primarily specialize in traditional American metalsmithing, vintage filigree work, and preserving intangible cultural heritage crafts." 5 After I finished, the studio fell silent for a few seconds. The comments erupted, with various speculations and remarks flashing by. [A volcanologist? A master artisan? What kind of god-tier combo is this?] [One chases volcanoes around the world, the other buries her head in crafts... Neither of those jobs sounds like they spend much time at home.] [No wonder Riley is so independent. Was she just raised in the wild?] [Why does this make me feel a little sad? It feels like the parents live in their own worlds, and the kid had to fight her own way up. Too tough.] [So the rumors about her becoming a stunt double because she was from a poor family are half true? Even if they weren't financially poor, she was definitely deprived of companionship and love.] The host, proving why he was a top-tier professional, immediately grasped the emotional peak in the comments and seamlessly transitioned to the next segment. "Listening to everyone's introductions, I've noticed a very interesting phenomenon." "The impact a family has on a person is truly vastly different." "So, let's chat about how your families have impacted your career paths." He gave the first opportunity to Clara. Many people were already familiar with Clara's story. She spoke openly about her past, relying on her mother to survive in a low-income household. When she first entered the entertainment industry, it was only because a scout noticed her looks, and she knew the industry paid well enough to improve her family's life. "But it's amazing," her voice carried a touch of nostalgia. "At first, it was just for survival. But when you really throw yourself into it, experiencing different lives and shaping every character, you slowly fall in love with it." "Acting has become the most important part of my life." Her storytelling was sincere and moving, earning a wave of praise in the comments. [This is a true grassroots heroine, making it to the top step by step on her own.] [She did it for the money at first, then fell in love with it. It's like a 'marriage of convenience' with her career!] [Clara's mom remarried and is happy now, and Clara is successful. Truly a rags-to-riches story.] When the topic shifted to Peyton, the atmosphere suddenly changed. She curled her lip, her tone full of unconcealed superiority and defiance. "My sister didn't have a choice back then." "I'm different. I genuinely love acting. And I think I have more talent than she does. She just debuted earlier and had a head start." She raised her chin, making a bold declaration to the cameras. "In the future, I will definitely be better than her, win more awards, and become a true Best Actress." Her words made the atmosphere in the studio incredibly awkward. Clara's smile looked helpless as she gently patted her sister's hand, trying to smooth things over. "It's good to have dreams. Just work hard to achieve them." The comments, however, were not so polite. [I literally want to vomit. What kind of bizarre speech is this?] [She takes advantage of her sister and still acts like a brat! Without your sister, would you have the resources you have today?] [Her emotional intelligence is terrifyingly low, embarrassing her sister in front of a national audience.] [She actually thinks she's amazing, completely oblivious to the fact that she's standing on the shoulders of a giant.] Peyton had clearly seen the real-time feedback. Her face turned bright red, and she opened her mouth, wanting to argue back defiantly. Seeing a sisterly dispute about to unfold on live television, the host acted quickly, cutting off her words and decisively turning the microphone to Riley, who was sitting next to me. The movement was so fast it left almost no gap, and all the cameras swiveled to focus on my daughter, who had been silent since the beginning. "Riley!" The host's voice was full of leading intent. "After hearing your mother's introduction, everyone is even more curious about your upbringing." "We all know that the path of an action star is incredibly grueling. Injuries are an everyday occurrence. Many male actors can't even stick with it, let alone a young woman." "So, everyone is very curious. Why did you choose this path in the first place?" He paused slightly, staring sharply at Riley, throwing the speculation that had been fermenting online right in front of her. "Many people think that for a young woman to be this tough and endure so much hardship, she must have had a very difficult family life, or lacked love growing up, forcing her to take this path to prove herself. Do you have anything you'd like to say about that?" 6 In that instant, the air in the studio seemed to freeze. All the lights, all the cameras, all the gazes—whether sympathetic, speculative, or curious—fell over my daughter like an invisible net. Riley held the microphone, silent for a moment. Then she looked up, staring directly into the camera. Her eyes held no grievance; instead, it was a frank statement of fact. "Yes, the host is right." She spoke, her voice clear and resonant. "My choice of this path definitely has to do with my family." The studio erupted in murmurs, and the comments instantly caught fire. "Even though I'm their biological child, I always felt like an unwanted guest." She continued, speaking at a moderate pace, but every word was distinct. "They were always telling me to get out, and they'd say, 'If you're so tough, go support yourself.'" My eyelid twitched. I felt a wave of helplessness. This kid, I thought. Her memory is bad enough, but why does she always take things so literally? But her words were like a drop of water in boiling oil. The comments completely exploded. The screen was covered in phrases like "Heartbroken for Riley," "Sending hugs to the Queen," and "What kind of garbage parents are these?" A fleeting glint of excitement flashed in the host's eyes. He had keenly captured the show's climax. He pushed the microphone a bit closer to Riley, encouraging her to continue. Riley certainly didn't disappoint him. Hearing the prompt, she seemed to gain momentum and nodded eagerly. "Yeah! When I was a kid, I watched Jackie Chan Adventures and thought Jade was so cool—smart and a great fighter. I wanted to be someone like that." "I thought, someone that amazing could definitely support herself and wouldn't have to deal with other people's attitudes." She rambled on, sounding as if she were recalling an inspirational past. "So I wanted to go learn martial arts, learn real skills, so no one could ever bully me or tell me to leave." "Now I've succeeded. I can support myself. Looking back, I really don't hold a grudge about it anymore." After she finished speaking, she even smiled magnanimously, striking the pose of a queen returning in triumph, letting the past go like smoke. The sympathy for her in the comments reached its peak. They praised her as "awake" and the "ceiling of independent women." At the same time, the vitriol directed at Nolan and me came crashing down like an avalanche. [They gave birth to her but didn't raise her. And when they did, they did a terrible job.] [Do these parents even deserve such a wonderful daughter?] [Suggest cutting ties! The Queen can shine alone!] The host opportunistically turned the microphone to me, his face wearing a perfectly measured expression of concern and inquiry. "Grace, do you have any explanation for what Riley just said?" "After all, we all want to know what was really happening behind the scenes." I was speechless. I looked at my daughter, whose face clearly said, 'Everything I said was a fact,' and couldn't help but ask her: "Are you actually forgetting?" Riley froze, looking at me in confusion. "Forget what?" "The host is asking me if there are any hidden details." I took the microphone, ignoring his question, and looked calmly into my daughter's eyes. "I don't have any dark secrets to hide. I just want to help you remember exactly why we told you to get out." I paused, clearly articulating the first piece of evidence. "Do you remember the birthday present you gave me when you turned eight?" "It was a live green snake that you said I could use as a necklace. And a shiny, greasy cockroach that you said I could dry out and use as an earring." "And a bullfrog with a pulsating belly that you told me was a singing music box." A collective gasp echoed through the studio. Riley's mouth fell open slightly as she struggled to recall. "We told you to 'get out' because we wanted you to take those 'presents' and get out of the house. We told you not to bring them inside." "Also, you said we told you to 'support yourself if you're so tough.'" "That was because you bit through a glass mercury thermometer and chewed the liquid mercury like a popsicle. When we found out, you actually argued back, saying the book stated heavy metals were very filling." "I scolded you, and you got mad. You threatened that if we didn't let you eat what you wanted, you wouldn't eat at all and would starve yourself to death. That's when we said—if you're so tough, then go support yourself." The atmosphere in the studio started to get a little weird. Suppressed laughter could be heard from the audience. "There was another time, you said you missed your grandpa, and in the middle of the night you went to dig up his grave..." Before I could finish, Riley's face flushed bright red. "Mom!" Oh, so she knew how to be embarrassed? I ignored her and continued speaking into the microphone: "We could understand you missing your grandpa, but you dug up the wrong place. You went and dug up our neighbor Mr. Wilson's yard." "When we found you, you were digging right alongside the family husky." "You had so much brute strength, you were digging faster than the dog." 7 "Pfft—" I don't know who couldn't hold it in first, but a laugh escaped. Immediately following, the entire studio erupted in earth-shattering laughter. The narrative in the comments experienced a massive 180-degree flip in that very second. [Hahahaha I'm so sorry, I take back everything I said about her parents!] [The fact that they only told you to get out and didn't beat you to death is only because they're related by blood, and because of the law.] [It turns out kids really only remember feeling wronged, and completely forget the whole picture...] [I'm declaring it now, Riley the Daredevil's childhood is the funniest joke I've heard all year!] "And your martial arts training wasn't something we forced you into either." I looked at my dumbstruck daughter, deciding to finish the whole story. "That was the result of a family meeting between the three of us." "We asked you if you wanted to go. Mostly because you had an endless supply of brute strength, and keeping you idle at home was a hazard. Your dad and I were so busy with work, yet we had to constantly follow behind you cleaning up your messes." "You patted your chest and said you were willing to go. But when you got to the academy, you grabbed your coach's hand and said something like, 'A gentleman's revenge is a dish best served cold.'" The comments were laughing like crazy. [This is exactly like when I was a kid and said 'Thirty years on the east side of the river, thirty years on the west side, don't look down on a poor youth,' and then forgot what it meant the next day!] [The dark history of trying to study hard and be a cold, edgy person! Hahahaha, who didn't have that middle-school phase!] [Riley, it turns out you're actually a comedian!] Riley's expression shifted from shock to confusion, and finally to pure disbelief. "Mom... is all this... true?" "What do you think?" I asked her. "Did you think you just walked into an MMA gym, bowed three times to the coach, and they were so moved they were crying tears of joy, begging to take you in?" "Your coach has to eat too. All these years, who do you think was paying your tuition?" She was completely speechless. "When you were a kid, your dad and I didn't entirely dismiss the idea of you learning from us." I sighed and continued. "I thought, since you're a girl, you could learn to do traditional crafts with me. Be a bit quiet, maybe it would temper your personality." "And the result? I brought out high-quality shells meant for mother-of-pearl inlay, and you used them as ninja stars, embedding them into the wall." "A custom silver fountain pen I had just finished crafting... in half a day, you had ground it down to a nub because you said you wanted to see if it tasted like chocolate inside." "Later, seeing that you just had way too much energy, your dad took you out into the wilderness, thinking you could try your hand at geological surveying." "The result? You put on a little backpack, hiked head-down in the mountains for an hour, didn't find a single valuable rock, but brought back seventeen different kinds of bugs." "You didn't say a word. You just stared at us with those big eyes like a little demon." "You had strength, you had guts, you just completely lacked a brain." "So, that's why we didn't let you follow in our footsteps." After I finished, another roar of laughter erupted in the studio. Hearing all this, Riley completely deflated. Given her thick-skinned nature, she didn't feel too embarrassed. She just scratched her hair and muttered sheepishly: "Man... I just remember trying really hard to help out when I was little, and then you guys were always annoyed by me and didn't want my help." That wronged, yet suddenly enlightened look hit everyone's funny bone all over again. This segment, which could have easily devolved into a family tragedy, ultimately ended as an unexpected comedy. The host wiped away tears of laughter and finally managed to drag the show's schedule back on track.
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