No qualms.

In a crowded night market, the noodle man grabs his young wife by the hair and shoves her onto the ground. Her money pouch drops from her hand, spilling silvers onto the muddy after-rain sidewalk. Terrified doe-eyes meet his hateful glare, pleading without a sound. His fist slams into her cheekbone. A slight whimper escapes her lips. A blow lands just above her lips. Then, another. And another. Time and again. No screams, only little gasps and whimpers.

He straightens up. Her face a crimson mess.

Wiping his hands on his apron, he resumes serving his customer. Merrily.

*Word token courtesy of Kuan Min.