Mourning guests had dispersed, all the affairs were wrapped up, and Shi Jun sat on the stone steps, silently observing the inch of earth before him.
Wen Yanqing sat down beside him.
"My mum's gone, for her, maybe it was a kind of release," Shi Jun's voice was filled with sorrow and hoarseness.
Over the years, he watched his ailing mother grow thinner and more haggard by the day, her mind adrift, unable to express her physical pain and psychological discomfort, one year after another.
"I have regrets, regret not listening to you and hurrying to find someone to love and marry. At least before my mum passed away, I could've brought a wife to see her."
Shi Jun thought about how his mother had momentarily regained her lucidity when she saw a photo of him as a "groom," and remorse flooded him like a torrent.
"Wasn't it because you hadn't met the right one? I believe your mother wouldn't want you to settle, to marry in haste just for her sake," Wen Yanqing persuaded.
