The lounge room air was thick with an ominous tension. Father Xia sat rigid in his chair, his forehead furrowed in deep thought, his eyes locked on Sian with a sharp but sorrowful gaze. His three sons stood behind him, their own faces reflecting their father's mix of bewilderment and sadness, their eyes darting back and forth between Sian and the suffocating silence in the air.
In contrast to the sombre mood, Mother Xia's soft moans broke the silence, h; here replete with an unmistakable sorrow. She stood before Sian, her trembling hands caressing his face, tracing familiar contours as if trying to sear their warmth into memory. Tears streamed from her eyes, glinting like pearls as sorrow and longing etched deep furrows on her face. Repeatedly, she mouthed the name "Qinger" in a hopeless wish, thinking of calling out an essence from the depths of her heart. The grief bearing down upon her hung heavy in the air, accompanied by the muffled desperation of the men within the room.
