A Peach Wood Comb

Saturday was the day Zhou Yuqian returned home to fulfill his marital “duties” with his legal wife, Li Yueqin. This weekly ritual maintained the scant emotional bond between them, like a branch broken but still connected by a piece of dried bark, ready to snap off completely with the next strong wind. That Saturday, there was a moon outside, round and bright like a disk, casting light on the happiness and sorrows of the world, its cold beams reaching into the deepest recesses of the heart, revealing the beautiful and the ugly. Zhou Yuqian, legs crossed, sat on an expensive leather sofa, loosening his tie. His eyes scanned the messy, dirty living room, landing on his disheveled wife. An ashtray flew towards his indifferent face; he nimbly rolled off the sofa, and “bang!” the ashtray shattered against the white wall. Li Yueqin, her last weapon having missed, collapsed, wailing. Zhou Yuqian picked up a shard from the ashtray, its sharp edges glinting in the light. Only when Li Yueqin’s cries subsided did he speak slowly, “ZWIESEL1872, you bought this ashtray from Germany, remember? You told me it was worth half a month’s living for an ordinary family, but you bought it for me because you thought it was worth it.” He let go, and the shard fell with a “clink” to the ground. With a crisp sound, the plate shattered. “With one swing of your great hand, you’ve knocked away half a month’s worth of food for someone, Li Yueqin. Do you think it’s worth it now?” Li Yueqin lifted her tear-streaked face, her eyes flashing with a venomous light. Her silk robe’s belt was loosened, exposing her chest, her disheveled hair piled like dry grass on her head, ready to ignite at the slightest spark. Suddenly, she burst into mad laughter, screeching in a shrill voice, “Worth it? How could it be worth it if I didn’t kill you? Zhou Yuqian, after all these years, you’re still alive, that’s because the heavens are blind. With all those whores out there, sooner or later, you’ll rot from sores, from head to toe!”