My wife's childhood sweetheart drove drunk and killed my parents.
I wanted to call the police, but my wife covered my eyes and took me to a secret underground room.
For three years, I endured all kinds of painful torment, never seeing daylight.
After every round of torment, a cold, heartless woman's voice would ring in my ears.
"Yuanzhou, do you still hate him?"
Until one day, I lay on the floor, cold and numb, and begged for mercy over the phone.
"I don't hate him anymore. I don't hate him!"
On the other end of the line, my wife laughed heartily.
The day she came to take me out, I dodged her embrace.
She stood frozen for a long time.
When I numbly asked her for a divorce, she went mad.
