My colleague is 32 years old this year and unmarried. She has lost her parents within three years.

She inherited a house, over a hundred grams of gold, and 1.6 million in savings.
Everyone is marveling at this wealth, but she is the only one trapped in severe depression.

She said, “I used to think that my parents’ pressure to marry was a shackle. Now I realize, it’s the last rope tying me to this world. When the rope breaks, I don’t know where I should drift to.”

This is the cruel truth faced by the first batch of only children:
We enjoy exclusive love, but we also bear the exclusive burden of farewell.
No siblings to discuss with, no close relatives to share the grief.
All the breakdowns happen quietly.

That 1.6 million in savings can’t buy back a late-night call you can dial, nor a bowl of hot porridge during illness.
We are always worried about whether our retirement funds are enough, but forget to ask ourselves:
When “home” is just an empty shell, and the person who once loved you unconditionally disappears, how do we face the rest of our lives alone?

True maturity begins the moment there are no more parents to rely on in this world.
This collective “psychological weaning” is destined to be brutal.