Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
Seven Days of Soul Transfer
墨書 Inktalez
The wall at home had peeled off another patch, and a musty smell filled the air. My father was sitting in front of his phone, live streaming, his plump face glowing under the blue light of the screen.
"Hello, everyone! Welcome to Qiang Ge Live Room!" he grinned, revealing his yellowed teeth stained from smoke, occasionally pointing at my mother who was kneeling on the ground. "Today we continue to train my disobedient wife!"
He shouted excitedly, the old chair beneath him creaking under the strain. Squinting his eyes, which were squeezed into slits by his flesh, he focused on the scrolling comments: "Want to see a mutt eat shit? Send me a cloud-piercing arrow, and I'll perform right away!"
I clung tightly to the doorframe, hiding in the shadows. My mother knelt there with a bit in her mouth, a leather strap tightly wedged into the corners of her lips, drool mixed with sobs trickling down her pale chin. Her frail body struggled incessantly, her throat emitting angry whimpers.
I wanted to rush in and stop it but feared it would only bring greater disaster; perhaps I would be the next one forced to wear a bit and kneel on the ground. My father extended his thick foot, hesitated for a moment, then suddenly stomped down on my mother's head, pressing her face into the floor.
My mother thrashed wildly, veins bulging in her neck, and her once-dull eyes now radiated a fierce intensity I had never seen before.
"Tsk tsk tsk, quite fierce," my father said, increasing the pressure of his foot, his voice trembling slightly. "Isn't this how you treat a disobedient woman? If you like it, send me some 666!"
The comments in the live stream rolled by like madness:
"This woman needs training!"
"Damn it, just watching is painful, but it's so thrilling!"
"The streamer is so fierce, thumbs up for you!"
"This is too much... I'm reporting this!"
"Shut up, you moralists; this couple is just playing with their kinks!"
As I read those comments, my stomach churned.
As the live stream continued, Grandma walked in holding a bowl piled high with Braised Pork Rice, reaching out to feed Dad. "Son, you must be exhausted. Here, eat it while it's hot; I made it just for you."
She cast a cold glance at Mom on the floor. "This Jian Gu Tou won't die from missing a few meals."
Dad's hand trembled noticeably, almost spilling the bowl. He forced himself to remain calm as he took it from her. "Mother, I can do it myself."
Something felt off; in the past, when Grandma fed him, he would open his mouth without hesitation, enjoying it as if it were his right. When had he ever taken the initiative to feed himself?
Suddenly, Mom charged at the wall with a wild fury, producing a dull thud. Blood instantly streamed from her forehead, staining her disheveled hair. Yet she seemed oblivious to the pain, continuing to slam against the wall while letting out primal roars.
"You've gone too far!" Grandma's expression shifted instantly as she snatched up a Feather Duster that had been resting against the door and struck Mom with it, the sound sharp and crisp.
"Playing crazy? I'll beat you to death, Jian Huo! Behave yourself!"
I hid behind the door, my teeth chattering—not from Grandma's ferocity; her cruelty towards Mom had long been an indelible shadow in my childhood memories.
What terrified me to the point of near suffocation was the scene before me that completely shattered my understanding of reality.
In the past, when Dad hit people, he resembled a mad beast; every punch was meant to draw blood. He wouldn't stop until Mom was battered and on the brink of death. That raw, unmasked malice had been my deepest nightmare.
But now this father of mine, though he uttered venomous words and performed cruel actions like stepping on heads during the live stream, appeared clumsy and awkward in his movements—as if he were mimicking an abuser.
Even stranger was the look in his eyes when he glanced at Grandma. From childhood onward, Dad had always been Grandma's favorite. Yet just moments ago when she fed him, I distinctly saw a flicker of fear in his eyes.
And there was Mom on the ground—blood trickling down her forehead and her body trembling under the strikes of the Feather Duster—yet her eyes held a ferocity that sent chills down my spine.
That wasn't my mother; my mother Lin Xiu had only fear and despair in her gaze and never dared to look anyone in the eye like that.
"Son, I've made Old Hen Soup for you; it's very nourishing—drink up."
After finishing her assault, Grandma switched back to her maternal facade and approached with an earthenware jar in hand. Dad instinctively reached out to take it but suddenly looked at me and slightly extended his hand. "Let Xiao Yan have a taste too..."
"You drink!"
Grandma scolded sharply, "What does she need the nourishing soup for, that worthless girl!"
Dad abruptly averted his gaze, lowering his head as he cradled the jar, no longer daring to look at me, gulping down the soup in large mouthfuls.
Since childhood, I had felt like a transparent person in this family; Dad had never seen me. He wouldn’t even blink if I starved to death right in front of him.
In the dead of night, I quietly approached Dad's room.
Through the crack in the door, I saw him staring into the mirror, his hand caressing his plump face.
His eyes were filled with disgust, tinged with an indescribable sadness.
That kind of sadness, I had seen far too many times on my mother's face.
As I gazed at this absurd scene before me, my heart raced.
Had they swapped souls?
Comment 0 Comment Count