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The scent of osmanthus blossoms still lingered in her neighbourhood when a handful of men entered her home Yet when they stepped through her bedroom door, they were blindsided by an overpowering stench that drove each one to put a hand over his nose    She wasn’t dead yet, merely lying on a bed that was very likely the source of the odour The clutter and filth in the room were easily imaginable; one might describe her own appearance the same way Perhaps the only comforting aspect to the scene were two hedgehog cacti that stood motionless out on the balcony, glowing green under the angled gaze of the afternoon sun As they grew very slowly and wanted nothing besides sunlight, it was basically impossible to tell whether they were alive or dead    She kept on sleeping, or was unwilling to deal with other people, so the men only stood by her bedside for a moment before hurrying back to the living room, taking care to leave her bedroom door open    Although the living room was also covered in ancient grime, and its furniture and accessories blanketed by dust, the drier air made it more tolerable The visitors stood and talked to the young woman who had let them in – the daughter of the old woman on the bed, around 30 years old, with a freckle near the bridge of her nose She wore a pair of jeans adorned on one leg with embroidered flowers that ran from knee to hip The pattern was so gaudy that her visitors looked down at her leg every few sentences Were those peonies? Or something else, it was hard to tell    One couldn’t resist saying: ‘Look at your mother What kind of a daughter are you?’   ‘I’m not in Nanjing, I live out of town’    ‘Out of town? Where?’ asked the youngest of the group    ‘Zhenjiang’    ‘That’s still not far You married out there?’   ‘Yeah’   ‘Well then, you should be “Coming Home Regularly to Visit”’, the young one replied, sharing a smile with the other two over his reference to the song    ‘I – ’