She only despised herself for being too weak, for failing to protect her own children.
She let them be born unwanted by anyone.
Ni Yang said, "Mom, don't be upset. Our three younger sisters, they have their own luck. They'll be fine, perhaps we'll even find them in the future!"
Ni Cuihua wiped away her tears, "I no longer hope to find them. All I wish for is their well-being in this world."
"Mom, rest assured, our three sisters must still be alive, they are all living well." Ni Yang embraced Ni Cuihua.
Ni Cuihua sobbed uncontrollably.
It started to drizzle on Tomb-Sweeping Day.
The weather was a tad chilly.
The mood matched that poem: "During Tomb-Sweeping Day, rain trickles down, travelers on the road are filled with sorrow."
Ni Yang pulled out a coat from the cupboard to wear again, and followed Ni Cuihua outside to burn paper money.
