Pregnant women should not attend funerals or weddings

Setting: A cozy tea shop in Shanghai. Jing is visibly pregnant. Her childhood friend, Wei, has just arrived, holding two cups of bubble tea.

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Wei:
Here you go! One mango milk tea, zero sugar, extra pearls—just how you like it.

Jing:
Thanks, Wei! You always remember. [Takes a sip] Mmm… perfect.

Wei:
So, how are you holding up? Any strange cravings yet? Pickles and mooncakes or something equally bizarre?

Jing:
No weird cravings, but I’ve been having the weirdest dreams. And… I’m also stressed. You know my cousin Lili’s wedding is next weekend, right?

Wei:
Of course! I got the invitation. You’re not going?

Jing: [Looks conflicted]
I want to, but my mom is completely against it. She says pregnant women shouldn’t attend weddings or funerals—it brings bad luck to everyone involved.

Wei: [Laughs lightly]
Ah yes, the Great Taboo of Chinese Pregnancy Superstitions, Volume 37. You’re serious about skipping it?

Jing:
It’s not just my mom. My aunt said the same. Even my grandma threatened to bury my maternity dresses in salt if I even thought of going.

Wei: [Amused]
Wow. That’s… intense. But Jing, think about it—does it really make sense? I mean, what’s the actual harm in showing up to celebrate love or mourn someone respectfully?

Jing:
Well… they say a wedding is all about new beginnings, and a baby is another beginning. Two “joyous energies” clashing messes up fate. Like… cosmic traffic. Or something.

Wei: [Grinning]
Cosmic traffic? Should we call the celestial police? Jing, you’re an architect! You don’t design buildings based on astrology charts, do you?

Jing:
No, but cultural traditions are different. They’re passed down for generations. Not everything has to be scientifically proven to be respected.

Wei:
True, but some of these traditions started back when people thought sneezing meant your soul was escaping. I’m just saying—we have modern medicine now, prenatal care, ultrasound machines… not fortune tellers with chicken bones.

Jing: [Giggling]
You make it sound like we’re in a kung fu movie. But still, I’d feel weird being at a wedding and having every auntie whisper, “Oh no, the baby will steal the bride’s luck!”

Wei:
You know what steals the bride’s luck? A bad DJ and a dry buffet. Not your baby bump. Besides, remember when Yuting attended a funeral in her third trimester? Her son’s totally fine—and she even says he sleeps better after funerals.

Jing:
Stop! That’s so dark!

Wei: [Chuckling]
Okay, fine. But remember last month when you refused to cut your hair because “it would cut the baby’s life line”? And then you finally did, and your blood pressure improved?

Jing:
I admit… that one was probably in my head.

Wei:
Exactly. Superstitions can stress you out more than they help. You deserve to live your life—not tiptoe around it like it’s some bad-luck minefield.

Jing:
But what if I go and something does go wrong? My mom will blame it on the wedding. Forever. She might even name the kid “Cursed” in secret.

Wei:
Then don’t tell her! Just say you had food poisoning and couldn’t attend. Or say the wedding was moved to Zoom.

Jing:
Now you want me to lie to my mother while pregnant? Double taboo!

Wei:
Okay, fair. No lies. But how about compromise? Go to the ceremony, not the banquet. Stay an hour. Show face, bless the couple, then slip away before anyone starts throwing rice.

Jing: [Thinks for a moment]
You know… maybe I could do that. My cousin would understand. And I really do want to be there for her.

Wei:
That’s the Jing I know. Bold, balanced, and only partially controlled by ancient superstition.

Jing: [Smiling]
Just don’t tell my mom you convinced me. She might start throwing salted fish at your door.

Wei:
Bring it on. I’ve got soy sauce and wasabi ready.

[They clink their bubble tea cups and laugh together.]