Northeast of Nanli Village, at the edge of the mixed woods, lies a group of graves quietly. Among them, one stands alone, away from the others, not surrounded by miscellaneous trees, but by a few pear trees.
Within the lunar month of March, the pear blossoms are in full swing, clusters of white flowers densely packed like clouds or snow, with a faint fragrance that is sweet and distant.
Wang Lianfa used a handkerchief to wipe the tears off his mother's face, softly comforting her, "Mother, stop crying. Seeing you like this, wouldn't Xiao Pear feel hurt too?"
Qu Cui nodded, responding, "I won't cry, I won't cry anymore..."
But looking at the small grave, the lush grass, the swaying tree shadows, cold and lonely in these woods, how could Qu Cui not feel sad and heartbroken?
Her daughter, her good, sensible little Lianhua, only twelve years old, drowned in the river due to her neglect as a mother.
