Snow Reflected in the Tang Pear Blossoms

Dad said I damaged my brain when I was little, so I don't understand a lot of things.

But I know I married the best husband in the world.

He always says I'm stupid, yet he loves pinching my cheeks and telling me I'm so silly it's adorable.

Later, he enlisted to fight in a war and promised he'd be back by autumn.

But I waited and waited, until every last leaf had fallen. All that came back was a cold wooden tablet, brought by my brother-in-law.

Every day, I went to the graves on the hill behind our home to keep him company and talk to him, bringing him freshly picked wild fruit.

Until one day, I accidentally overheard something beneath the window:

“There are plenty of ways to repay a debt. Why do I have to marry a fool? ... She clings to me all day. I've been sick of it for ages.”

“This arrangement is perfect. I'll take care of my elder brother's wife, and you look after that fool. Everyone wins.”

That's when I learned he'd come back a long time ago.

If he was tired of me, he could have just said so. Why pretend to be dead and deceive me?

The next day, Dad asked again whether I wanted to marry someone else.

I nodded gently, pulled off the white velvet flower I'd worn for a year, and tossed it into the stove.