Sister, I Love You

Chapter 1

When she was married into his family, she was sixteen, while he was twenty.

He was his parents' only son, cherished like a priceless treasure. The only sorrow was that he had been sickly since childhood.

His grandfather made a modest living from trading goods and had managed to save a little money over the years. His grandmother was a devout Buddhist, deeply faithful. One day, surrounded by incense smoke in a temple, she drew a fortune stick that foretold something strange:

Her grandson, the family's only heir, would have to marry an older woman if he was to survive the difficult years ahead.

Of course, Grandmother believed what the Buddha had revealed through the incense-filled temple, the ringing bells, and the sacred atmosphere around her.

So she and her husband began making arrangements. They prepared a generous betrothal gift and sent word throughout the surrounding villages, searching for a suitable match for their grandson.

The girl's family had five mouths to feed and only a few patches of poor, exhausted farmland to depend on. The harvest barely provided enough for a bowl of porridge.

One winter, desperate to earn a little extra money, her father followed some men into the mountains to break rocks.

He never made it home with the money he had hoped to earn.

A collapsing rock crushed his back instead.

The family spent everything they had on his treatment, selling even their stored grain, but his condition never improved.

From then on, her father could do little more than lie helplessly in bed, trapped between wanting to live and wishing he could simply die.

Her two younger brothers were still children.

The family's suffering and her mother's endless grief cast a heavy shadow over the girl's youth, burdening her with worries far beyond her years.

That was why, when the matchmaker came and pleaded with her mother—

“Let your daughter marry into that family. The money can help pay for her father's treatment, and there will be one less mouth to feed at home.”

Her mother shook her head.

What mother would willingly push her innocent young daughter into the fire?

But the girl pleaded with her.

“Mother, please let me go. Perhaps that money will be enough to save Father.”

The wedding procession arrived with trumpets blaring at the entrance to their little house.

Lying helplessly on his bed, her father beat his own chest in despair.

Does my daughter really have to trade away her youth? Does she really have to marry someone who isn't worthy of her, all because she wants to save me and this family?

Her mother wept as she personally placed a hairpin into her daughter's hair.

Dressed in red with embroidered shoes on her feet, the girl knelt before her father and bowed deeply.

Then she slowly lifted the red veil covering her face.

Only then did her tears finally fall, running through the rouge on her cheeks.

From that moment on, the fate of her life—and her marriage—was placed in the hands of a young boy who understood none of what marriage meant.

Her young mother-in-law was not a harsh or demanding woman. Her father-in-law lived far away and never required the girl to perform elaborate rituals of respect or constantly bow and answer obediently.

And the boy simply followed his mother's instructions and called her “older sister.”