Chapter 1

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My husband was the famous Good Samaritan for miles around.

Every month he spent his own money buying rice and oil for lonely old folks and fixing appliances for his poor widowed sister-in-law.

And me, I carried the whole household on my own.

The enormous mortgage, my mother-in-law's medical bills… every month we came up short, and on top of that I had to swallow my pride and borrow money from my own family.

I worked days and nights until I collapsed and landed in the hospital. I begged him, just this month, could he set the charity aside and take care of the mortgage and the medical bills first.

But he flung my hand off, hard.

"How can you have so little heart? A country girl really is just a country girl.

Oh, right—your sister-in-law is treating me to dinner tonight, so I won't be home. Get some sleep early."

With that, he turned and walked out, leaving me alone, staring blankly at the IV line in my hand.

A long while later, a nurse came in with a slip.

"Your family just sent this over from the post office."

I took it and looked—

Transfer amount: 5,000 dollars.

"Your sister-in-law's kid is sick. I saw there was still some money on this card, so I used it for now."

That was the money I'd just borrowed from my parents. My mother-in-law's lifesaving money.

This time I didn't cry, didn't make a scene. I calmly pulled the needle out of my arm, went home, sold everything in the house worth selling, and made a phone call.

"That project down south—I'll take it."

Since he found me so heartless, then I'd just leave. I wanted to see, too, how this great Good Samaritan would rescue this whole family's disaster.

…

"Irma Vance, why did you overspend by twelve dollars and eighty-six cents again this month? The plant isn't doing well, everyone's saying there'll be layoffs."

"And put one egg in the noodles, that's enough. There's famine everywhere these days. That extra egg you drop in could be a whole day's food for some child."

"We need to be a little more frugal. Do you have any idea how many people out there live harder than we do?"

Zane Delgado's scolding voice carried out into the yard, and quite a few villagers started clapping and chiming in.

"I always knew Zane was the pride of our village. That selfless heart of his is something we should all learn from."

"Now that's a college man, an educated man. He really does us proud."

I quietly set down my chopsticks. This was the tenth fight over money this month.

Zane could see the hungry people out there and worry for them, but he never once saw the enormous mortgage in our own home, my mother-in-law's medical bills… every month we came up short, and on top of it I had to swallow my pride and borrow from my family.

None of that he could see. All he saw was me being greedy, me lacking the spirit of sacrifice.

I opened the account book. Line after line, packed tight—nothing but the mortgage and my mother-in-law's medical bills. And still, all of it didn't add up to the loose change of Zane's selfless giving.

Every month his whole paycheck, down to the last cent, went out as donations. In this neighborhood, even a stray dog passing by had felt his kindness.

But behind it all, I was the one carrying every ounce of the weight.

Last month his widowed sister-in-law fell ill, and the money I'd set aside for the mortgage he emptied out to the last cent.

It wasn't that I never tried to stop him.

It was just that every time I opened my mouth, he had a thousand comebacks ready to throw at me.

"Money, money, money. Comrade Irma, when will you ever understand the spirit of sacrificing the small self for the greater good?"

Because my husband did his charity work, my spending each month was capped, down to the cent, down to how many cups of rice I could eat a day, every bit of it counted. The moment I went over even a little, he'd haul me out into the yard and dress me down in front of everyone come to gawk.

This time was no different.

Just because I added one extra egg, I became the enemy of the people, a hard-hearted, penny-pinching woman.

But today was my birthday. I'd scrimped for a whole year. Giving myself one extra egg—was that really so unforgivable?

I didn't understand, and Zane didn't need me to. He knew this village woman couldn't survive without him, could only do as he pleased. He was the sky, the pillar of the house.

And so, when he carried off the birthday noodles I'd taken only a single bite of, I just looked up once and said nothing more.

I knew. It had to be for the widowed sister-in-law's house.

Sure enough, the next second Zane said, without a shred of doubt:

"Melvin Martinez over at your sister-in-law's is growing, I'm taking these over to him. You wash these clothes and take a good, hard look at yourself!"

And with that, he turned and left.

Leaving a yard full of dozens of pieces of clothing behind. This was his newest good deed—hauling water and washing clothes for people who couldn't manage on their own.

These days, every evening after work I'd come home, first cook for the whole household, then go tend to my mother-in-law, cleaning her, wiping her down. After running myself ragged all day, I'd come back and wash this mountain of clothes.

This sickening life had gone on for over a month, and yet I'd never complained. I'd done everything I could to go along with his charity, his good deeds.

Only this time, I looked at the empty table, and an exhaustion I couldn't put into words welled up inside me.

Never mind. It was just a bite of food.

I really didn't want it that badly.

I let out a bitter laugh and reached for the paddle to beat the clothes. The next second, everything went black.

The paddle slipped from my hand, my body swayed, and I toppled off the stool, crashing hard into the washtub and knocking it over.

The washwater and the mud of the ground turned me—me, who never let a speck of dust touch me—into something as pitiful as a stray dog.

But none of that mattered anymore. Just before I passed out, I heard the neighborhood women chatting as they wandered past.

"That Delgado boy really is so good-hearted. His widowed sister-in-law's got her monthly cramps, so he went and butchered a chicken to stew her some soup. Said the women in the neighborhood could all go get a bowl too."

Chicken soup… it had been so long since I'd had any…