Sanshu's home was even more dilapidated than Xiao Douding's; the courtyard gate, which hadn't been repaired in a long while, clattered in the wind, and in the corner of the yard was piled a dust-covered dustpan and basket, the vine on the trellis having withered long ago, a few dried loofah gourds hanging down, and smoked meat as stiff as wood. Thinking on it, one knew that it wasn't often visited by its owner; even the smoked meat was dejected, hanging from the hemp rope that was about to snap, like a suspended beam. Song Shijiu entered the room directly; the aunt had covered her mouth and nose, and was crying without speaking, a few tears dropping before she wiped them away, and she said with a choked voice, "He's beyond hope." Song Shijiu grasped her hand, and gently patted it a few times. "No need to panic." Once she finished speaking, she headed towards the low bed. The room was incredibly small, and once the group entered, it seemed crowded...