In China, the older generation’s “worldly know-how” can sometimes feel like a precise financial statement. At home, there’s always that kind of little notebook, in which it records: for Sui Zhang Laosan, 100 yuan; for Sui Wang La’er, 200 yuan; for Sui Big-auntie Jiě, 300 yuan... They say, “Human favors can’t be counted,” but in their hands they write down every single item very clearly. Who came over, how much they contributed, and how much that household will have to pay back in the future—all of it is written in the notebook. Until one day, a cross is drawn after a person’s name. Not because the money has been settled, but because that person’s life has ended. What this ledger records is not feelings, but a balance sheet of relationship assets and liabilities in a society of familiar acquaintances.