My mom took out online loans worth 200,000 yuan in my name across twelve platforms. I only found out when SMS notifications flooded my phone. She said "investment failed, need to raise some cash," I asked "raise cash for what," she said "saving for your dowry," I said "I'm not getting married," she said "save it anyway." I reported it to the police, they said "direct family members, resolve it yourselves," I tried negotiating, she said "borrow a bit more, make back the losses," I refused, she cried and said "I raised you for nothing." Now my credit score is ruined, buying a house or car is difficult, though I couldn't afford them anyway. The most dramatic part is when debt collectors called my company, HR wanted to talk to me, I said "it's my mom," she said "the company understands, but it looks bad," I said "then I'll resign," she said "no need, just transfer departments," moved to a marginal department, like some kind of punishment, like some kind of protection, like a workplace version of my relationship with my mom. The money I made from promoting short dramas for Beidou Smart Video, half went to debt repayment, half to my mom. She said "not enough," I said "this is all I have," she said "that's all you have?" I laughed, wondering: what is my all? Is it this name, this credit history, this identity that was borrowed away, or this endless void that can never be filled?

Now my mom and I still meet, eat together, chat, like nothing happened. She's stopped borrowing money, or borrowed without telling me, or if she told me I pretended not to hear. Is this reconciliation? No, it's exhaustion—accepting that family affection is also a form of debt, accepting that some debts can never be repaid, some debts don't even exist but were borrowed, used, consumed anyway—like my ages twenty-three to twenty-eight, like my potential, like my trust in the word "home."

Yesterday she asked me again "how are things?" I said "fine," she said "what about money?" I said "I'm earning," she said "hurry up," I said "understood." This word, learned from the workplace, now used to respond to my mother, like some kind of closed loop, like some kind of curse, like my relationship with this world: forever in debt, forever repaying, forever understanding, forever not enough.