The phrase 'climbing someone else's wall' keeps coming up and it's not accidental. Xiang Dalang was literally trying to climb Dong Yun's wall—harassing a young widow, taking advantage. Pear Blossom calls him out on it: 'You're the one who's worthless, climbing someone else's wall, shameless.' But the wall is also a boundary, a line that shouldn't be crossed. Dong Yun's courtyard is her wall, her territory, and she defends it with everything she has—the law, the dog, her composure. The black dog is such a powerful symbol. It's gentle with its family, feral with intruders. It represents the protective instinct that Dong Yun channels. When Mrs. Xiang tries to cross the threshold, the dog doesn't just bark—it knocks her down. When Zhou steps over it, the dog nearly tears her throat out. The dog enforces the boundary that words alone couldn't. And the medicine—Dong Yun rubbing the bruise into Pear Blossom's back, helping it heal faster. That's another kind of boundary crossing, but a willing one, a healing one. The patched clothes, the three patches on the undergarment—symbols of poverty and endurance. Pear Blossom grew up poor, bullied, with a grandmother who defended her abusers. Now she's grown strong enough to fight back. The stone that hit her back is the same kind of violence she endured as a child, but this time she doesn't just take it—she turns it into action. The recurring motif of the Xiang family's greed—they're not here for justice, they're here for three to five taels of silver. The village knows it. The onlookers know it. That's the real theme: power, exploitation, and the quiet resistance of those who've been pushed around for too long.