The lights in the kitchen were as dim as urine stains, and the mother-in-law was holding a bowl of folk soup filled with cockroach eggs, trembling as she wanted to "reincarnate a boy" for her dead husband.
I stopped her and persuaded her in a gentle voice: "Mom, if you drink too much, dad will feel sorry for you."
He turned around and poured the soup into the sewer, listening to the gurgling sound of broken cockroach eggs, like swallowing in the dark.
Seven months later, she gave birth to a daughter from the seed, named "Zhaodi".
Zhaodi lived to be seventeen, but was turned into a cowardly body by her mother's hatred. She eventually fell from the rooftop, her blood brighter than the sunset.
My mother-in-law pointed at me on a rainy night and cried: "You killed my Zhaodi——!"
I held a black umbrella and smiled: "Mom, the road is slippery, be careful."
When she slid down, she still held her late husband's tablet in her hand.
I inherited everything and lived to the age of eighty without any illness or disaster.
When I closed my eyes and opened them again, I was back to that evening with the smell of cockroach eggs.
The mother-in-law picked up the bowl of soup again and hesitated to drink it.
This time I came closer and took the bowl with a gentle look on my face:
"Do you want to add sugar? It's too bitter and not good for your stomach."
"After all, you still have to give birth to a son for the Zhou family."
Outside the window, cockroaches dragged their egg sheaths and crawled into the darkness.
The night is still long.
The fate of cockroaches and the obsession of humans have just begun.
Intention: Use absurdity to depict reality, use insect eggs as a metaphor for human hearts, criticize the destruction of women by feudal obsession, and show the silent resistance and distorted awakening of individuals in a repressive environment.