Today has been really tough. I had just made instant noodles and was scrolling through my phone when I stumbled upon this activity, which instantly reminded me of what my sister said during our video call last week: "You finally seem like a living person." I almost lost it then, swallowing my tears along with the noodle soup. To be honest, many people might think that the person who changed my life should be a parent, a teacher, or an idol, but for me, that person is my sister, my biological sister who is seven years older than me. She's not the kind of brilliant student with a golden aura, nor is she some life mentor. She's just an ordinary woman who runs a nail salon in our hometown county town, chatting with customers all day. But it was she who dragged me out of a pile of mud, allowing me to sit here in this small rental room in the city and have the mind to write something, rather than being like two years ago when I didn't even dare to open the window.

What was I like two years ago? I had just graduated from university with a useless marketing degree. I sent out hundreds of resumes, only to be rejected or scammed. In the end, I worked as a telemarketer at a shabby company, making three hundred calls a day, getting cursed at until my ears grew calluses. At the end of the month, I took home 3,200 yuan, with rent at 1,500, leaving just enough for noodles and pickled vegetables. During that time, I felt completely drained. During the day, I acted like a pushover, and at night, I would collapse onto my bed in the rental room, staring blankly at the ceiling, my phone screen lit up but not knowing what to do. When my parents called, I would say, "I'm fine, just busy with work," and after hanging up, I felt like crying but couldn't shed a tear. At my worst, I didn't leave the house for a whole week. Trash piled up at the door, and takeout containers grew mold, but I didn't bother to throw them away. I felt like I was rotting away. I even thought that if I died suddenly here, no one would even know.

How did my sister find out? I have no idea. Maybe it's a mother-daughter connection. My mom mentioned to my sister that my voice sounded off lately and that I was yawning a lot. My sister didn't ask me directly. She just sent a WeChat message: "I'll come to your place this weekend. I'll bring the sour beans you love." At the time, I replied, "Sis, I have to work overtime this weekend. Don't come." But on Saturday morning, she knocked on my door directly. I opened it groggily, and when she saw me—my hair greasy enough to fry vegetables, my face pale and sickly, and the room smelling of stale food—she didn't say a word. She put down the big bag she was carrying, walked in, and started cleaning up. She opened the window first, and the cold wind rushed in, making me shiver. As she picked up the takeout containers from the floor, she scolded, "Are you really going to treat yourself like this? If Mom and Dad saw you in this state, their hearts would shatter into pieces." I stood there like a little kid, and suddenly tears started streaming down my face. She turned around, sighed, walked over, and hugged me, saying, "Cry it out. After you cry, go take a shower. I'll make you some noodles."

That day, after I showered, I ate the noodles with minced pork and sour beans she had brought. She sat across from me, watching me eat, and said, "I know you're bitter inside. Who doesn't suffer when they first start out? But look at you—you have hands and feet, and you're not stupid. If you can't even take care of yourself, how can you talk about the future?" She paused, then continued, "When I was working in the factory back then, I had it much worse than you. I lived in a dorm with ten people, got scolded by the supervisor, and once had a piece of my hand crushed by a machine. At night, I would cry under the covers. But I never thought about giving up, because I knew that if I collapsed, our family would truly have no hope." She said all this in a calm tone, but I could see her eyes were a bit red. She went on, "If you don't like your current job, quit. But don't hide away. I may not have much education, but I know that to live, you need to find something you're willing to do. Even if you just do it to make a living, it's better than locking yourself away." After she left that night, I lay in bed and thought for a long time. Her words weren't as fancy as those big principles, but they struck a chord deep in my heart.

Later, I did quit that job and found a position as an online store operator. The salary wasn't high, but at least I could learn something. I started forcing myself to go out every day, even if it was just for a walk downstairs. My sister would send me messages every now and then, not the kind of "you can do it" inspirational quotes, but photos of new nail designs from her shop or ugly pictures of her fat cat. Sometimes she would even transfer me fifty yuan, saying, "Buy some fruit to eat." I know she's not well-off either, but she always does things in her clumsy way to make me feel that someone still cares about me. Gradually, I started to get better. I began running, reading books, and no longer stayed up scrolling through my phone until the early hours. At the beginning of this year, I switched to a small company as an operations assistant. The salary is only around five thousand, but at least I don't feel like I'm just enduring each day. Last month, on my sister's birthday, I bought her a massage device. After she received it, she took a photo and sent it to me, saying, "You little rascal, you finally know how to care for someone." I stared at the screen and laughed for a long time, only to realize my face was wet.

To be honest, I've never said "thank you" to my sister. I just can't bring myself to say it. But I know that if she hadn't kicked open my door that day, cleared away the trash, and opened the window, I might have truly rotted away. She hasn't read many books and doesn't know anything about psychology, but she used the simplest method to tell me: "Your sister is still holding on, so what reason do you have to give up?" Now that I think about it, those seemingly insignificant moments in life can really change a person. As she said, to live, you need to find something to look forward to. My hope is just not wanting to make her worry about me anymore.

Well, I'll just vent here as if it's a confession tree. If this comes out as incoherent gibberish when translated, please bear with me. Anyway, life goes on. My sister's nail salon is doing well, and I'm gradually getting back on track. I hope that whoever reads this will meet someone willing to open the window for you.

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Participant of If It Weren't for Her, I Might Have Rot Away in This Rental Room