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She died after jumping into the irrigation canal at the entrance of the village in the early morning of the Qingming Festival that just passed. There were no suicide notes, no arguments, no terminal illnesses, and no debts. She is just a 54-year-old rural woman. Her two daughters are already married, and her husband is living at home. Her life is neither good nor bad, and her life is neither salty nor light. The night before, she was still chatting with her neighbors about visiting graves during the Qingming Festival, but she spoke less than usual and her eyes were empty. No one noticed anything strange, after all, she was always silent. After her death, people in the village started talking: She was so good, why can't she just think about it? "The family is not short of money, and my daughter is also filial." I'm afraid I'll go crazy if I get it. But soon, the topic was replaced by new funerals and new gossip. Her husband ate, smoked, and played cards as usual, the daughters cried a few times, and life went on. Her life was like a speck of dust falling on the water, not even causing many ripples. No one really understands why she died, just like no one really cares how she lived. In this world, most people's lives are like this - not seen while alive and quickly forgotten after death.