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墨書 Inktalez
The reasons I refuse to sell that house are complex. My mother passed away in that house, and by keeping it, I feel I can still sense her presence. Moreover, it is a second-hand property; if potential buyers find out that someone died there, they might use it to negotiate a lower price.
These are the two reasons I can share with Chengshan. What I cannot tell him is that I actually do not support his investment plans. I've long outgrown the blind admiration for my husband; he is just an ordinary high school teacher, and I don't believe he has the ability to achieve anything significant in business.
Furthermore, I really dislike the friend who encourages him to invest. This person is slick and always invites Chengshan out for lavish meals and drinks. At thirty-nine years old, Chengshan already suffers from high blood pressure and coronary heart disease, which I believe is closely related to his frequent drinking outings.
Nevertheless, I rarely refuse any of Chengshan's requests because I feel guilty towards him. After thirteen years of marriage, I still haven't given him a child. His parents never got to hold a grandchild before they passed away. However, they were kind people and never pressured him or me into divorce while they were alive.
So, I try my best to be a good wife. If it weren't for this unexpected child arriving, I would have agreed to sell the house long ago. Now, I have to keep this house as leverage to make Chengshan accept Yuqi; this could be considered a form of coercion.
Perhaps this will damage our relationship, and maybe Chengshan will be very angry. But these issues pale in comparison to having a child of my own. It turns out that I can also be a selfish person.
Now, Yuqi, this child picked up from a grave, has received a new name and new parents and seems destined to live with us permanently. I excitedly prepared a crib, a stroller, and all sorts of little clothes for him. Yuqi's arrival fills my heart with the tenderness of motherhood, and his behavior satisfies my longing.
He often gazes at me intently, calling me "Mama" over and over again. In the beginning days, Chengshan still found Yuqi's origins suspicious and kept his distance from him. As time passed, he would occasionally steal glances at us while I played with the child.
This peaceful life lasted just over half a month when something strange happened at home. On Friday night, after dinner with Chengshan, we each played on our phones for a while before getting ready for bed. As I picked up Yuqi to place him in the crib, he suddenly burst into tears.
After trying to soothe him for quite some time without success, I had no choice but to lie down with him on the big bed.
I placed him on my side of the bed, and Chengshan peeked over, showing no signs of objection.
In the middle of the night, Chengshan suddenly let out a scream and bolted upright in bed. I turned on the bedside lamp and saw him frowning, his hand exploring his other arm. Upon closer inspection, I noticed a long, thin scratch on his hand.
"What’s wrong? How did you get blood?"
"I feel something poking me," Chengshan said, raising his hand to his face, looking suspiciously at the blood.
"Ah! You have so many blood spots on you!" I exclaimed as I scanned his body.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.
Eight blood spots had inexplicably appeared on Chengshan's body. Eight bright red droplets clung to his arms, neck, and back. One spot seemed particularly large, with blood already trickling down.
The scene under the dim yellow light was unsettlingly eerie.
Chengshan sat there for a moment in shock before suddenly jumping out of bed and tossing the covers aside in a frantic search. I stood there dazed until he picked up a bloody sewing needle from the folds of the sheets, a silver thread dangling from it.
At two in the morning, the ticking of the clock echoed in the bedroom as Chengshan and I stared at the needle in silence.
"Did you sew anything in bed today?"
I remained silent. Even if I had forgotten the needle on the bed, there was no way it could have created eight puncture wounds on him.
I was well aware that there was no Silver Thread in the sewing basket at home.
In my silence, Chengshan turned his gaze to Yuqi, who was sleeping beside me.
"I can't remember either. I think I sewed a piece of clothing. It's already past two; let's go to sleep."
I shifted my body slightly to block his view and tremblingly snatched the needle from his hand, tossing it onto the floor.
In that moment of confrontation, we lay down in silence. I didn't turn off the bedside lamp, and Chengshan didn't let me either. As I closed my eyes to the ticking of the clock, my mind was swirling with chaotic thoughts. I didn't know how long it had been before I fell asleep.
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