Especially when hearing that someone had a child, someone else had a grandchild, a belly grew larger here, another belly grew there. Each time she heard such news, she could get so frustrated that she felt like she would die of anger.
"Big sister, it looks like your daughter-in-law's belly has grown a little bigger, hasn't it?" Old Madam Song sulkily commented. The sourness in her comments was so strong that it was nearly tangible even from a distance.
"It's a boy."
The middle-aged woman held her chin high in pride, while the pregnant woman proudly puffed out her stomach as if afraid others might not see.
When Old Madam Song heard it was a boy, it felt like a cat was scratching at her heart. She felt so uncomfortable and miserable that she wished for a wall to scratch at in frustration.
It's a boy, it's a boy, it actually is a boy.
Why is it not her grandson?
