Rui Wang

In a world where love is currency and women are commodities, a man constructs an elaborate justification for abandoning his immobile wife and caged daughter for another woman living next door.

In my cultural tradition, names are bestowed as precious gifts by our parents. Nevertheless, as I traversed the path of my upbringing, I found myself harboring reservations about the names bestowed upon me. These names elicited within me a complex blend of emotions, from identity quandaries to bewilderment, from moments of regret to wellsprings of joy. At certain junctures along my life's journey, I even contemplated relinquishing my original name in favor of a new one. However, a profound realization dawned upon me: my name serves as the indelible thread that binds me to my past, shaping the person I was and the person I have become. Names are not merely labels but precious gifts, each one bearing a unique significance.

In a world where love is currency and women are commodities, a man constructs an elaborate justification for abandoning his immobile wife and caged daughter for another woman living next door.

In my cultural tradition, names are bestowed as precious gifts by our parents. Nevertheless, as I traversed the path of my upbringing, I found myself harboring reservations about the names bestowed upon me. These names elicited within me a complex blend of emotions, from identity quandaries to bewilderment, from moments of regret to wellsprings of joy. At certain junctures along my life's journey, I even contemplated relinquishing my original name in favor of a new one. However, a profound realization dawned upon me: my name serves as the indelible thread that binds me to my past, shaping the person I was and the person I have become. Names are not merely labels but precious gifts, each one bearing a unique significance.