I was the chaotic queen of trending topics, the infamous woman always breaking the internet. Every single day, I’d ditch my kid and parade around in crazy outfits, hawking goods on live streams. Everyone called me an unfit mother, said I was profiting from misery. But instead of listening, I’d pick fights with my son, right there on camera. Netizens would hurl insults, and my son would scream for me to just die. Yet, the overwhelming storm of hate couldn’t stop me from going live for even one day. After a hundred days, I vanished, just like they wanted. But then, their feeds flooded with messages: “Mom, come back!” **1.** It was peak summer. I was draped in a robe made from three bedsheets, a crown of toilet paper perched on my head. Sweat dripped constantly from my forehead, smudging my makeup, making me look utterly ridiculous. I didn’t care, though. I kept up my exaggerated expressions, pushing products. “Don’t miss out, fam! This dish soap has insane cleaning power…” This was day 49 of my live streams. Since I started acting crazy, playing dumb, and wearing wild clothes, my stream finally started gaining traction. But gradually, that wasn’t enough to satisfy people’s morbid curiosity. [Where’s your son, streamer?] [We wanna see your son! Call him over, and I’ll send a Carnival gift!] [Not yelling at your son today?] One time, I accidentally had an argument with my son during a stream. After that, the stream’s popularity surged. Plenty of bored folks would camp out in my live stream, intentionally egging me on to fight with my son. But the traffic was booming, and I was all for it. Seeing someone promise a Carnival gift, my heart soared. I rushed to drag my son from the next room into the camera’s view. “My son’s here! Oh, thank you, big bro, for the gift!” I grinned obsequiously, looking like a complete clown. But Leo pulled away reluctantly, yelling at me, “Aren’t you embarrassed?! I told you I don’t want to be on stream with you!” “Isn’t it enough for you to act crazy by yourself? Why do you have to drag me into it?” Leo shoved me hard. I stumbled up awkwardly, my toilet paper crown falling to the floor. He furiously picked it up, then slammed it back down. The crown was crushed to bits, Leo using it to vent his frustration. I didn’t back down either. For every yell he gave, I fired back with three: “You ungrateful brat! I feed you and clothe you every day, and you make such a fuss just for showing your face on camera?!” “I think you’re just bored and looking for trouble. Apologize to these big brothers right now!” “Do you know how hard it is for me to raise you? If it weren’t for these guys, we’d have starved long ago!” “You’re only ever this loud with me. If you put this much energy into your studies, you’d be successful by now!” Leo’s eyes welled up, but he stubbornly held back his tears, grinding his teeth. “Successful? How could I ever be successful with a mom like you?!” “I hate you! If you couldn’t afford to raise me, why did you even have me?!” A sharp smack cut off the confrontation. Leo clutched his face, glaring at me, hatred undisguised in his eyes. Rage boiled in me. I stormed into his room, grabbed all his comic books and novels, and violently threw them onto the floor. “I guess I’ve been too nice to you! I let you read all these useless books every day!” “They make you dense, with no real skills, just knowing how to argue with your mother!” Leo rushed to pick up the books, cradling them as if they were more precious than me standing before him. Seeing this, my anger flared even more. Without a second thought, I yanked him away and tossed all the books into the trash. Leo screamed, “No!” He charged at me like a feral beast, knocking over the phone I was using to stream. We instantly started wrestling. A mother and son fighting like cats and dogs isn’t a common sight, and it drew a swarm of onlookers. The live stream was instantly packed, with gifts showering in non-stop. The colorful lights of virtual gifts illuminated our faces as we screamed at each other, twisted into grotesque masks. [Oh my god, how can she hit her child?] [Love to see it.] [Subscribed to the streamer. Disobedient kids just need a beating.] [But forcing your kid to stream isn’t right, is it?] The footage of me hitting Leo that day was saved and went viral. People even made parody videos of it and posted them on every platform. In the videos, my viciousness when hitting him contrasted sharply with my fawning gratitude when thanking for gifts. Netizens mockingly called me “Face-Swap Mom.” Suddenly, terms like “Face-Swap Mom stream,” “Face-Swap Mom hits son,” and “Face-Swap Mom memes” shot up the trending topics. So, on the fiftieth day of streaming, I was officially famous. **2.** *“Ugly Acts for Attention, Publicly Assaults and Makes Child Cry.”* A news headline like that instantly ignited the curiosity of the melon-eating crowd, and I was thrust into the eye of the storm. Countless people came forward to condemn me, recounting similar experiences as if drinking poison to quench their thirst. They sympathized with my son, branding me the quintessential failed parent, relentlessly criticizing me. It was as if by defeating me, they could overcome the helpless pain they had to swallow in their own weak moments. I scrolled through their comments about me, then calmly put on a crown I’d woven from leaves. I put on an elf costume made from a long green dress, white plastic bags, and wildflowers, using heavy foundation to hide the dark circles under my eyes. Then I started another live stream. Huge numbers of netizens quickly flooded into the stream, the comments scrolling by so fast that all I could see was insults. But I showed no sign of remorse. Instead, I brazenly scoffed, “My son? That little leech is in the next room.” “Hmph, it’s only because I’m so kind that I’m still raising an ungrateful brat like him. Anyone else would have sent him to an orphanage.” “Thanks for the gifts, fam! Keep those Carnivals coming!” [You don’t deserve to be a mom.] [How can there be a mother like you?] [The child is so pathetic, you should just give him away.] “Pathetic? Have I not fed him or clothed him? Why don’t you pity me?” I rolled my eyes, but the next second, I became incredibly fawning when thanking for gifts. “If you pity him, then buy more stuff and send me more gifts.” “Let me tell you, yesterday I only gave him leftovers. Who told you to insult me? If I don’t sell well today, he won’t even get leftovers!” “Alright, alright, today we’re bringing you a set of dish soap again. It’s still that familiar brand, ten bottles for nine ninety-nine. Get on board!” … [Seriously, she has no shame. Still in the mood to sell stuff?] [If I had your mentality, I’d succeed at anything.] [Face-Swap Mom not hitting her kid today?] [Unfit mother!] [The way she raises her child…] [She’s crazy for money, acting silly every day.] I kept my smile strained, until one comment froze it on my face. [I hate people who abuse children like you the most. Just wait to be doxxed.] A moment later, our entire family’s personal information, from names to home address, was detailed right there on the public screen. It sent shockwaves! Netizens devoured the info, discussing it heatedly. [Turns out it’s a single-parent family. Seems tough.] [Being a single parent doesn’t mean you can hit your child randomly.] [Maybe that’s why her husband left her, she likes hitting people.] [Are you blind? Her husband’s dead!] [Could Face-Swap Mom have killed her husband?] [Y’all are ruthless above! Keep it coming, lol.] … As the comments grew more and more outrageous, I froze for a moment. But then, Leo suddenly burst into my room. “It’s all your fault! Now everyone knows it’s me! Are you happy now?!” I quickly regained my composure and snapped back, “What do you mean it’s all my fault! If you’d been more obedient, would this have happened?!” “You don’t study well day in and day out, and going live with your mom is too much for you? Seeing so many people defend you, you think you’re so tough now, don’t you?!” “If you’re so ashamed, then don’t spend a single cent of my money!” “I won’t! I’m ashamed of how you make your money!” Leo’s eyes widened in fury, his neck stiff as he confronted me. “You never cared about me, but when we argue, you bring up studying. When did you ever go to a parent-teacher conference? You don’t care about me at all, so what are you pretending to be here for?!” He stared at me, enunciating each word: “If only it had been you who died back then, instead of Dad.” I stood frozen, only the booming slam of his bedroom door echoing in my ears. [Fighting again in front of so many people.] [Can someone call the police?] [Doxxing is a bit much, isn’t it?] [Support the doxxer! It’d be a shame not to expose this kind of person.] [Clown, even your son can’t stand you.] [Face-Swap Mom, just die! Don’t drag your son down.] From that comment onward, the entire feed was filled with “Face-Swap Mom, just die.” But I didn’t care if they laughed at me, and I cared even less what they called me. Anyway, I made two hundred thousand dollars from that one live stream. That was money I couldn’t have saved in ten years of toil and struggle. **3.** On the fifty-third day of streaming, I enabled the co-streaming feature, charging an outrageous ten thousand dollars per call. People watching my stream cursed me, saying I was crazy for money, but at the same time, they scrambled to send me gifts for the publicity. The number of co-stream requests was countless, and my pockets were overflowing. [How dare you hit your child? Why do you force him to stream if it’s just your thing? Can’t you get a job with your own two hands and feet instead of making a spectacle? How will your child ever hold his head up at school?] Questions like these were repeated by almost everyone who called in. My answers didn’t disappoint them; I was utterly shameless and without boundaries. “He’s my son, I can do whatever I want with him.” “I haven’t starved him, and I haven’t stopped him from going to school. If you don’t discipline a child, they won’t amount to anything. I hit him for his own good.” “If you care about him so much, why don’t you send me more money? If I’m in a good mood, maybe I won’t hit him.” “Anyway, if you insult me, I’ll take it out on him. What are you going to do about it?” These co-stream clips were cut and reposted endlessly by various influencer accounts. “Face-Swap Mom” became even more infamous. An online frenzy of attacks against me swept through the internet. People, driven mad, tried to utterly destroy me. Takeout piled up outside my door, sent for my son, while wreaths for *me* clogged the hallway, blocking passage. My door and windows were pelted with rotten eggs and vegetable leaves. In the middle of the night, people would knock on my door, yelling insults. My front door was even vandalized with notices. These were all minor annoyances. My photos were Photoshopped into funeral portraits, and even my late husband’s tombstone, buried years ago, was found and splashed with paint. Reporters and busybodies camped outside my apartment building at all hours, everyone wanting to scrape off some profit while I was still trending. I curled up at home like a street rat everyone wanted to beat, and Leo couldn’t even go to school. But even then, I never missed a day of streaming. Yet, I seemed to have overestimated my own strength. The continuous worry and pressure eventually broke me. On day 79 of streaming, during a co-stream, just as I was about to open my mouth to answer a question, a metallic taste suddenly filled my throat. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t suppress it. Large mouthfuls of blood gushed out. I rushed off camera, but the blood sprayed from between my fingers, and I couldn’t stop it. The live stream was silent for only a second before comments started flooding in furiously. [Scared of being insulted, so now you’re going for the pity party persona, huh?] [If you knew this would happen, why did you do it in the first place?] [So scary, what happened to the streamer?] [If she’s really sick, she deserves it. Heaven has eyes and finally punishes the wicked.] [Just die already.] … For a moment, there was no one on screen, but my son’s voice and mine came from the next room. “Stop faking it, okay? If you’re really sick, just go die!” “What if I am faking it? You genuinely want to see your mom get insulted, don’t you?!” “If you hadn’t hit me back then, would it be like this now? You deserve it!” “You little brat, how dare you talk to your mom like that! You’re just like your dead father!” My furious shouts clearly reached everyone’s ears. [LOL, it’s really like a script.] [You have to admit, Face-Swap Mom’s blood pack looks pretty real. Quick, cut that part into a meme too!] [I was just starting to wonder if there was a hidden story, turns out she’s just pure trash.] [Type 1 to wish Face-Swap Mom a speedy death.] [1111] In the next room, I hastily wiped the blood from my hands and mouth, but the stains on my clothes wouldn’t come off. The co-streamer was urging me loudly, so I had to rush back and connect. [Remember me? I hate child abusers the most.] A male voice, distorted by a voice changer, spoke. I immediately realized it was the guy who had doxxed me. [You said you had no money to raise your child, but someone told me that’s not true.] [Your mother-in-law said you took all of her son’s bereavement pay, every single cent. Where did that money go?] I remained silent, my face turning even paler, a storm raging inside me. Seeing my silence, the person thought he had caught me and spoke even more agitatedly. [Putting aside you using your child as a tool to make money, you are shameless enough to hog your deceased husband’s bereavement pay? Have you thought about how your mother-in-law’s family is supposed to live?!] [How can you stomach profiting from misery like that?!] I didn’t respond, simply ending the live stream. But in everyone’s minds, this was as good as admitting guilt, further solidifying my wicked deeds. The anonymous person’s words were like a thunderclap, shaking up the “Face-Swap Mom” incident, which had started to fade with time. People’s attitudes towards me plummeted. The few who had spoken up for me before now turned their backs and joined the attacks. My mother-in-law, Brenda Reed, who had ignored us for eight years, suddenly appeared before various media outlets, tearfully accusing me of my wickedness. She claimed I had swallowed all the bereavement pay, forcing her, at nearly eighty, to pick up bottles just to get by. And now, I was heartless, abusing her son’s only child. In her description, I was a rotten-hearted ingrate, mean, harsh, and greedy—the absolute worst scum. Brenda’s assessment of me, coupled with my own son telling me to die on stream, seemed to confirm everything about me. As an undeniable villain, I deserved to be condemned. The online hate campaign against me intensified, yet I lay on my bed, laughing freely. I was very satisfied; everything was going according to my plan. **4.** On day 81 of streaming, my popularity surged. Brenda was still relentlessly attacking me, fabricating all sorts of nasty rumors: how I stirred up trouble between her and my son, how I disrespected her, how my husband and I had no love for each other… I knew telling blatant lies had always been her forte. But during my live streams, I never defended myself, not once. Not only did I calmly accept all the harsh criticisms, I actually felt their reactions weren’t extreme enough. So, I started actively seeking more trouble. I streamed leaning on a cane, hunched over and dressed like an old woman, but with thick white foundation and pink blush on my face, looking comically grotesque, like a clown from a street parade. Then, with that appearance, I deliberately mimicked Brenda’s actions during her interviews, giggling all the while. I also intentionally read out netizens’ comments about me during streams, then provocatively, sarcastically, mocked them back. I caused mayhem during the day, and at night, I was still busy. I used my main account to jump onto all sorts of platforms, arguing with Brenda, with netizens, with the world. Contrary to what the public expected—remorse and reform—I was trying to provoke public outrage. My chaotic behavior indeed attracted more attention. My popularity climbed steadily, but with it came an even more furious wave of online hate. But this was exactly what I wanted. I needed the popularity, I needed the money, the more the better. However, on day 99 of streaming, just when everyone expected me to make another fortune, I bowed deeply to the camera. Facing everyone watching the stream, I calmly said: “I admit, everything that happened before this was a script I planned myself. Tomorrow, I will tell everyone the truth.” After saying that, I ignored all the questions and quickly rushed to the bathroom, throwing up blood into the toilet. Leo had appeared behind me at some point, sobbing uncontrollably. Tears streaming down his face, he pleaded with me, his words threatening to shatter my resolve:
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