Avoid cleaning or sweeping at night, as it may sweep away wealth

[Scene: Li Mei’s apartment in Shanghai. It’s 9:30 p.m. Jing is visiting. There are crumbs on the floor from their takeout dinner.]

Li Mei: (jumping up and grabbing Jing’s hand)
Jing, don’t touch the broom! We can’t sweep at night! Do you want me to go bankrupt?

Jing: (laughing as she reaches for the broom anyway)
Bankrupt? Mei, it’s just crumbs, not gold dust. I promise your bank account will survive if I sweep this up.

Li Mei: (grabbing the broom away and hugging it dramatically)
No, no, no! My grandmother always says: “Sweep at night, sweep away your fortune.” Do you know how many times she’s scolded me for this? I’m not risking it!

Jing: (raising an eyebrow)
Mei, last I checked, your fortune comes from your job, not your living room floor. And you work in marketing, not magic.

Li Mei: (grinning)
You laugh, but last year when I accidentally swept at night, my phone broke the next day. Coincidence? I think not.

Jing: (chuckling)
Okay, Sherlock, but didn’t you also say you dropped your phone in the sink while brushing your teeth?

Li Mei: (waves hand dismissively)
Minor detail! The point is, bad things happen when you ignore the old ways. My cousin swept after midnight once and lost his job two months later.

Jing: (smiling)
Two months later, Mei! That’s like blaming the broom for the stock market crashing.

Look, I get that traditions make you feel connected to your family. But logically, sweeping is just cleaning. There’s no invisible money cloud hovering over your apartment, waiting to be chased out by a broom.

Li Mei: (mischievous grin)
How do you know? Can you see the invisible money cloud?

Jing: (laughing)
Touché! No, I can’t. But we have to go by evidence. If sweeping at night really drained wealth, we’d see whole studies on it, and bankers would ban vacuum cleaners after sunset.

Li Mei: (thoughtful, tilting head)
Hmm… okay, scientist. But explain this: when my mom avoids sweeping at night, she always seems to have good luck – promotions, winning mahjong games. When she ignores the rule, things go wrong.

Jing: (gentle tone)
Mei, that’s what we call confirmation bias. You remember the times it fits, and forget the times it doesn’t. Like… didn’t your mom’s car break down last month, even though she didn’t sweep at night?

Li Mei: (groaning)
Ugh, yes. And it cost a fortune at the repair shop.

Jing: (teasing grin)
See? The broom wasn’t involved. Bad luck happens either way. But if it brings you comfort, I’m happy to wait till morning to sweep.

Li Mei: (softening, smiling)
You’re sweet, Jing. You always humor my crazy beliefs.

Jing: (shrugs playfully)
Hey, friends respect each other’s quirks. But you do owe me a dumpling for agreeing to leave this mess till morning.

Li Mei: (laughing as she hands over a dumpling)
Deal. But don’t say I didn’t warn you if your stocks crash tomorrow!

Jing: (biting into the dumpling)
If they do, I’m blaming you, not the broom.

[They both laugh, sitting back on the couch as the crumbs glitter harmlessly in the lamplight.]