101 Murders: The Secret My Wife Hid Under the Bed

At three in the morning, Li Mo stared at the lottery ticket in his hand, soaked in blood, breathing so hard he sounded like a broken bellows. This was his tenth time being reborn after death, and the tenth time he had clutched this ticket, which had won the 50-million grand prize. Every time, as soon as he came back from claiming the prize, no matter how carefully he hid, an “accident” would happen right on the stroke of midnight. Sometimes it was a gas leak, sometimes a home invasion. The most absurd time, he drowned in a bathtub where the water didn’t even reach his ankles. This time, Li Mo didn’t go home. He hid in the unfinished building across from his villa and set up a high-powered telescope. Its crosshairs were fixed firmly on the window of the master bedroom on the second floor of his house. The curtains hadn’t been drawn all the way. He saw his frail wife, who usually couldn’t even unscrew a bottle cap, expertly drag a gleaming boning knife from beneath the bed and mime the angle for stabbing someone in the neck, a chilling smile on her face.