Rumo ao caminho que leva diretamente às nuvens azuis

“Mother, say no more. You should remarry and take my little brother with you. Don’t worry about me.”

After saying this, six-year-old Shen Dakui lowered his head and resumed cutting pigweed in the field. His sensible demeanor was nothing like that of an ordinary six-year-old child.

Six years old!

In modern times, a child at this age would still be snuggling in their parents’ arms, acting spoiled to avoid school, coaxed by grandparents to eat another bite, every meal a negotiation. Yet here, in this devouring ancient world, he must carry a basket larger than himself to work.

“My son…”

Zhang Sanniang, seeing her child so mature, could no longer hold back her tears. She threw aside the sickle from his hand and embraced him, sobbing bitterly.

“My son, I can’t bear it… I can’t bear to part with either of you.”

Her husband had been dead for three years, and she had resolved not to remarry. But the suitor was a county constable, an official, who offered a generous dowry and was willing to let her bring a child to study. Even her in-laws urged her to marry for the twenty strings of silver.

Yet, fearing she would sever all ties with the family, they allowed her to take only one child.

The eldest was six, the youngest four.

No matter which one she left behind, it was as if someone was carving flesh from her heart.

Shen Dakui sighed heavily, hugging his mother to comfort her.

“Mother, I’m already six. I know right from wrong. But my little brother is only four; he cannot be without you. If you leave him, he’ll