Chen Yu and I were childhood sweethearts until we got married. Everyone praised him as the perfect husband - only I knew that this "perfection" was made by grinding my bones.
In the past, I held the design award and my smile could outshine the sun. But when he said, "My career is more important," I locked the drawings in the bottom of the box and stepped on the dream in the mud. Gradually, I even had to report to dinner with friends, and I had to wait for him to fall asleep before even drawing a draft. My life became a breathless decoration at home.
That family gathering was the final nail in the coffin for me. Relatives gathered around me to give birth, and no one asked me if I still wanted to do design. No one saw that my eyes were so red that I couldn't hold my breath. They only regarded me as Chen Yu's accessory and a reproductive tool. At night I was so broken that I was shaking, but he frowned and sneered and said that I was "good for nothing except staying at home."
Hatred was like red-hot iron, pricking me so much that I wanted to die together - the next second, the world went dark. When I opened my eyes again, I actually penetrated his body.
I retaliated like crazy: tearing apart his pretentious workplace persona so that everyone could see how he was sucking my blood to climb up; I criticized the relatives who urged me to have a baby, and scolded all the grievances of my former self; I even pulled my best friend who was about to be forced to death by her husband's family - why should we be trampled under their feet?
But the revenge was over, and I stared at his face in the mirror, suddenly out of breath: I had ruined his life, but my own life had been ruined by him to the point where there was no trace left. What does it matter whether this soul can be exchanged or not? I am no longer the person I used to be.
