When I was seventy, I took a liking to Chinese painting.
It was cheap, just 60 yuan a class, but no one supported me.
My son advised me, "Mom, 60 yuan a class isn't cheap. A few more lessons would be enough to cover An'an's school fees."
My daughter-in-law chimed in, holding my grandson. "Exactly. And if you go to class every week, who's going to look after An'an? We all have to work."
The angriest of all was my husband, Mo Huai.
He smashed a cup and roared at me, "At your age, you're neglecting your perfectly good family and spending all your time running around outside!"
"If you insist on taking that class, then let's get divorced!"
But he himself was taking cycling classes that cost hundreds of yuan each.
Sometimes, when there was a cycling event, he wouldn't come home for more than half a month.
I suddenly grew tired of living like this.
"Fine. Let's get divorced."
