The Park on the Island in the Lake

Sometimes people ask me why I married my wife. They just use a different tone when they ask, for example: "What attracted you to her?" or "What made you fall in love?" What follows is a partial explanation. My wife has the habit of imparting humorous and entertaining tales when I least expect it. Usually they are bucolic tales from her rural home, as is the following. At other times they might be from the news or internet. Without further ado, I would like to impart the latest one.

Two days ago my wife and I were relaxing at my mother in laws house. I was upstairs reading while she was downstairs chatting with her mother and grandmother. The wife later recounted part of the conversation.

About a week ago there were three migrant workers from sichuan sitting in a pavilion in the park on the lake right across from the inlaws' house. The pavilion in question is the second one from the right, just to the right of the covered hallway. The picture in question is from February when they were burning brush in the field in the background. I had planned several posts of chinese people burning things, esp. garbage; these, sadly, have not yet come to fruition, but I digress.

The workers were sitting in the pavilion relaxing and a local came in to the same pavilion and sat down. The non-locals told him not to sit there, they were sitting in the pavilion. The local said,
"So what if I do sit here?"
"We'll throw you out!" they replied.
"Throw me out then!"
They jumped on him, but the local was strong and the three sichuanese couldn't get the best of him. One said:
"I'm going to get a knife, and when I come back you're dead for sure!"
The local man just ignored him, but sure enough, the sichuanese came back with a kitchen knife and hacked each of his arms to the bone in three places.

At the conclusion of the story my wife's grandmother said,
"Just hope you can find food to keep your stomach full. Finding food to eat for a few more years is all anyone can really hope for..."