A Hundred Grams of Meat: A Cross-Border Marriage and Family Drama

"I thought if I cooked it a little more—"

[🎧 The audio version is available at the bottom of the page.] ⬇

(Scene: A Local Hospital, somewhere in Hong Kong, night. YOU, a man in your late 40s, rush up the stairs, still in your shipping company uniform, your breath uneven. At the waiting area, you spot your WIFE sitting on a bench. Across from her, your MOTHER sits stiffly, her face carved with disdain.)

(You storm over to your wife, your voice cutting through the quiet.)

You: Look what you’ve done to my son! Don’t you have any sense?

(Your wife looks up, startled. Her eyes are swollen, her face pale.)

Wife: I didn’t know… It looked fine. I thought if I cooked it a little more—

Mother: Treating your son like a street dog. What a mother.

You: (turning to your mother) How’s Pin-Pin? What did the doctor say?

Mother: Still inside. Lucky it’s nothing worse. With a mother like her, that boy’s lucky to still be alive.

(Your wife lowers her head, her voice trembling.)

Wife: I’m sorry… I didn’t think this would happen. I wish it was me instead of him.

You: What good does wishing do? Does that fix anything?

(She says nothing, her hands clenched tightly in her lap.)

You: How many times have I told you? Stop buying cheap meat! You never listen. Do you want to poison all of us?

Wife: It wasn’t expired. It looked fresh when I—

You: “Looked fresh”? It stank up the whole fridge! Even a blind man could tell it was rotten.

Mother: And leaving pork in the fridge for a week? Anyone with half a brain would know better.

Wife: I cut off the bad parts and cooked it thoroughly before packing it in the lunchbox. Maybe the heat—

You: Oh, now it’s the weather’s fault? A hot day, so it’s not your responsibility?

Wife: I ate it too. I didn’t get sick.

Mother: Some stomachs are just made of steel.

(You step closer, your anger bubbling over.)

You: You think I don’t notice? You drown the meat in seasoning to cover the sourness. Last week’s pork tasted like garbage, and you still served it.

(Your wife shakes, staring at the floor. Her voice is barely audible.)

Wife: If you gave me more money…

(You freeze, your eyes narrowing.)

You: What did you just say?

(She raises her head, her voice firmer this time.)

Wife: If we weren’t so tight on money, I wouldn’t have to buy cheap food.

(Your fists clench, and your voice explodes.)

You: You dare blame me? Do you have any idea how hard it is to survive in this city? I bust my ass every day while you sit at home! I should’ve been working overtime tonight, earning an extra $300—but no, I’m here cleaning up your mess!

(She looks down, tears pooling in her eyes.)

Mother: The ones who do nothing always complain the loudest.

(You drop onto the bench next to your mother, your anger simmering down. You glance at your wife, a flicker of disgust crossing your face.)

Wife: (quietly) Should I get something to eat?

You: Go ahead. I don’t want to see you right now.

(She hesitates but eventually walks away.)

Mother: Always eating, always spending. What are we, made of money? These village women are all the same. Feed them too well, and they’ll drain you dry.

(You don’t respond. You stare at the wall, guilt and relief tangling inside you.)

(The Emergency Room doors swing open. The DOCTOR steps out.)

Doctor: Your son’s fine. It wasn’t the meat—he drank spoiled milk at school. Mild food poisoning, nothing serious.

(You blink, caught off guard. Your mother raises an eyebrow but says nothing.)

(Posted on 17.1.2025)

#CrossBorderMarriageAndFamilyDrama

(🎧 Audio Version) A Hundred Grams of Meat: A Cross-Border Marriage and Family Drama