During the May Day holiday, my mother-in-law stole food from someone else’s campsite. I tried desperately to stop her, but my husband accused me of meddling and slapped me. The food turned out to be poisoned. That very night, my husband and father-in-law ended up in the hospital. My mother-in-law and I hurried them in for stomach pumping, but only my husband survived. She blamed me for my father-in-law’s death, and just after the seventh-day memorial, she and my husband conspired to mix the remaining poison into my meal and kill me. Afraid my parents would notice something was wrong, they hurriedly had me cremated without telling them. They didn’t even buy me a gravesite, just threw my ashes into the river. Not long afterward, my mother-in-law found my husband a new wife. Ten months later, she gave birth to twin boys, and the family lived happily ever after. I alone became a wandering ghost. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment my mother-in-law was stealing food. This time, I learned to stop feeling responsible for helping others and to respect their choices.
