For many years, the parents had only one precious son, who was so cherished as if they feared he might melt in their mouths or fly away from their hands.
Treasured to their very bones.
The several daughters born before him, when added together, didn't amount to a single strand of their brother's hair.
The birth mother of Yang Zaizhao had frequently birthed and conceived in these years, all for the sake of having a son, and her body had long since broken down, incapable of work or tilling the fields.
The family relied solely on Yang Zaizhao's birth father, but how could one man provide for eight mouths?
Luckily, the daughters had grown up, especially the eldest daughter, already a young woman in her teens, and all the household chores fell to the sisters – cooking, washing clothes, caring for the children, as well as looking after their sick mother.
They managed everything in an orderly way, not causing anyone worry.
