What becomes of rural bachelors who can’t find a wife when they grow old?

My neighbor, a 78-year-old man, had only been struggling to walk for three years. Recently, he began wetting and soiling his pants. His two sons started passing the responsibility back and forth. They fought over who should care for him, wrestling in the muddy courtyard until both were covered in mud.

The old man cried out day and night, saying he was hungry. Kindhearted neighbors brought him food and water, but his son stopped them:

“Don’t give him any! Whenever he eats, he shits everywhere! Stop feeding him!”

Last week, the old man died. This morning, I saw his elder son post on WeChat Moments:

“Today marks the seventh day since my dear father’s passing. My tears have soaked my pillow! My beloved father! How are you doing on the other side?”

The real reason the brothers fought was this: their father had been alternating between their homes, spending a year with each son. This year, he suddenly became paralyzed and bedridden. Seeing that his father had little time left, the younger son wanted to change their longstanding arrangement from switching once a year to switching every two weeks.

The elder brother refused, insisting that he would not take over until next year.

So they fought.