Widow Zhou

"Little white chicken, scratching the ground. Our family's married a flower-faced aunt! Quick of tongue, deft of hand, two big scissors clacking grand. Left cuts peonies fair, right trims sacred herbs rare. Upon the herbs, two geese take flight, flapping wings across the Yellow River bright..." Firecrackers popped as children clapped and sang, while Lady Zhou, veiled in red, married the sweetheart she'd loved since childhood. She dreamed of a plump baby boy, to raise him well, to watch him one day join the singing children at another's wedding. Her husband was a rough man, but tender with her. She spoke softly, blushing at the mildest jest, and noticed every flicker of his discomfort. When he was hot, she fetched cold water. When he was cold, she sewed warm clothes. He was ordinary, but she made him feel like a king. He lacked eloquence but vowed to give her the best life. He hated seeing her hands frostbitten in winter and dreamed of striking it rich, letting her live like a noble lady. When rumors spread that Tang Coins would rise in value, he invested heavily, only to watch their worth plummet. "They can't fall further," people said. "Now's the time to grit your teeth and buy more." So he gritted his teeth and exchanged more money for Tang Coins, but instead of rising, their value plummeted even further. He lied to her about their finances, tightening their belts while still spoiling her, but the stress festered into a silent illness. The Tang Coin Confiscation policy snapped his last thread of hope. Ruined and penniless, with Lady Zhou newly pregnant, he went to the Ash Pit... where the Human Market traded in rice-meat. He never saw their child. Would the baby look more like him or his wife? He hoped for her beauty. He never heard her sobs, never heard her vow over his grave to raise their child at any cost. If only he could have wiped her tears and told her not to suffer alone.