Zhang Yu lay on the kang, listening to the commotion outside, yet there was indeed no movement.
Wei Dazhi woke up to find his old wife hadn't gotten up, which was very strange, since it was quite lively outside.
"Old woman, old woman." Wei Dazhi thought maybe his wife was tired, after all, she handled everything inside and outside the house. Though the couple's own matters weren't many, they couldn't handle having two sons, each with a son and a daughter, and the kids were quite young—truly exhausting.
And their daughter who was married off wasn't far away, just in the row of big yards at the back. Due to the small space at her in-laws' and many brothers, their daughter often brought her child back.
Thinking of his sons and daughter, Wei Dazhi felt downcast. They say daughters are their parents' beloved little cotton jackets, but this daughter of his, sigh.
