In Qiantang, there was an old woman surnamed Wang, whom everyone called "Wang Po". Wang Po was kind and generous and made many good connections. Although she had three sons and one daughter, she did not live a good life.

Wang Po's eldest son, Ding Dalang, is a butcher on East Street; her second son, Ding Erlang, sells cloth in West Market; her third son, Ding Sanlang, is an accountant in a restaurant; and her fourth daughter, Ding Siniang, married into a neighboring county and can't come back even once a year.

The three brothers were a meat seller, a cloth seller, an accountant in a restaurant, and a customer greeter at a tea stall. But Wang Po ate wild vegetables dug from the mountain every day, wore worn-out coarse linen clothes, and her rice jar was empty. Her three sons had not sent her any rice.

Granny Wang had only two acres of meager land and a thatched hut to live in. One day, when there was no rice left to cook, she had no choice but to use her cane to go and look for her four children.

The first person she went to find was Ding Da, the butcher:

“My son, as the saying goes, ‘Milk is made from human blood!’ You have drunk my milk, and now there is really no rice to cook at home. I am hungry, so please give me a bowl of rice to cook!”

Ding Dalang was a burly man with a face full of flesh and a thick beard that looked like weeds. He spoke in a deep, muffled voice.

"Mother, I am truly an unfilial son, having let you go hungry. It's just that the market has been bad these days, and not many people are buying meat. I'm even losing money on this business! This piece of pork and half a bag of rice are my tokens of my appreciation. Please take them home and make some meat soup!"

Granny Wang took the string of "meat" tied with straw rope and the "half a bag of rice" in the cloth bag. When she looked down, her heart sank.

This isn't meat at all; it's clearly a string of smelly pig intestines!

This isn't rice at all; it's clearly half a bag of moldy, sprouted wheat!

"Go away, go away! I have meat and rice, don't interfere with my business! There are three brothers in my family, and you won't give me your two plots of land, so why should you eat my meat and rice!"

Ding Dalang shooed away his poor old mother as if she were a fly, completely disregarding the stares of others.

Wang Po then went to find Ding Er, the cloth seller:

“My son, as the saying goes, ‘Milk is made from human blood’! You’ve drunk my milk, and now that the weather is getting colder, my body can’t take it. Cut a piece of cloth and make me a quilt!”

Ding Erlang had a pointed chin and a pointed head, looking like a needle. The moment he saw Wang Po, his face darkened, and he said in a sarcastic tone:

“My mother is known as a kind-hearted person in this city! Everyone says I’m a ‘sugar rooster,’ never giving a penny and always trying to get something from others. I wouldn’t dare claim to be your biological son!”

He spotted the cloth bag in Wang Po's hand at a glance, his eyes darted around, and an idea formed in his mind. He wiped his face and resumed his affectionate demeanor:

"Mother, Mother, I was just joking. It's getting cold now, so I'll make you a cotton quilt. I'll use white cotton fabric that I brought back from the Western Regions to sew into the quilt so it will be warm!"

Has Er'er changed his temperament?

Wang Po was flattered and, leaning on her wooden cane, stumbled into the fabric shop.

Before Wang Po could react, Ding Erlang opened the bag and saw a stinking pig intestine and half a bag of moldy malt. His face immediately changed color.

"Mother! It turns out to be this stinking, worthless pig offal. My elder brother is so generous, but I, as the younger brother, can't be stingy! Here's a fine cotton quilt! It's pretty and warm, I wouldn't sell it for ten taels of silver! But if you take my quilt, you'd better tell people what's going on, I'm very filial!"

That quilt was very ornate, with many patterns sewn onto the blue satin; it looked very valuable.

Having lived for decades, even with her failing eyesight, Granny Wang could still discern some clues. She lifted the quilt in her hand; it was unusually light. With another poke, the quilt cover tore open, revealing a large handful of light, fluffy reeds floating out.

This isn't a quilt cover at all; it's a quilt cover that Ding Erlang made out of old Wang Po's failing eyesight by using paper!

This isn't cotton wool at all; it's reed flowers that Ding Erlang sewed in!

Wang Po, leaning on her cane, went to find her third son, Ding Sanlang, with trembling steps.

“My child, as the saying goes, ‘Milk is made from human blood’! You drank my milk, and now I’m hungry and tired. Please give me a bowl of hot soup!”

Ding Sanlang was a refined-looking man, fair-skinned and clean-cut, with a mustache. He considered himself a "scholar," and therefore always liked to shake his sleeves before speaking.

"Ahem, Mother, I'm just a lowly accountant now, I can't be the boss of this restaurant! Oh well! For your sake, I'll swallow my pride and beg for a bowl of porridge!"

A bowl of thin porridge, so thin you could see your reflection in it, was brought to Granny Wang. Only a few grains of rice floated pitifully in the bowl.

Granny Wang was hungry and tired. When she touched the rim of the bowl, it was ice cold. It was a bowl of leftover rice mixed with half a bowl of cold water.

Ding Sanlang smiled and began to persuade Wang Po:

"Mother, those two acres of land you have are just a burden. Why don't I find a man to sell them to, and you can live with me from now on! I guarantee you'll live a life of luxury!"

Granny Wang had cried all her tears.

This is no bowl of thin porridge; it's a dirty bowl filled with well water!

Ding Sanlang wasn't trying to serve her; he was trying to drain her dry!

Having raised three sons, all of whom were so greedy and vicious, Granny Wang couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with sorrow. She staggered out of the city, leaning on her cane.

—Daughter Ding Siniang married into a neighboring county. Her mother-in-law is a shrewd woman known far and wide. If she were to come begging for food, I'm afraid my daughter would be in a difficult position!

She might as well take advantage of her old bones and still be able to walk, go to the mountains, find a tree branch, and hang herself. People say that those who die unjustly become ghosts. Who knows, she might become a ghost after she dies and come back to teach those three bastards a good lesson!

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