Song Haitang's eyes brimmed with scalding tears as she gazed at the man beside whom she had spent twenty years, her heart full of grievance.
Beneath the dim, yellowed nightlight, Zhou Jingguo held a cigarette between his fingers, its ember flickering on and off.
There was not a trace of warmth in his deep-set eyes, only bone-chilling indifference, concealing a malice and calculating nature no one else could understand.
He slowly bent toward her, closing in until his oppressive presence seemed to fill the entire bed. His voice was as cold and hard as ice: "Do you even know what shame is?"
Song Haitang trembled uncontrollably. She bit down hard on her lip, her throat tightening until she could not utter a single word in her defense.
Her fingers dug into the coarse pillowcase as she clenched it. On her slender wrists, several red marks of varying depth from being restrained stood out starkly in the dark.
Warm tears rolled silently down her cheeks and fell onto the bedding.
Only now did she finally see clearly that the Zhou family son Granny Sun, the matchmaker, had described as handsome, dignified, respectable, and held in high regard concealed a twisted, possessive, cold-hearted, and ruthless nature beneath the surface.
The air around them grew more and more stifling, the suffocating pressure piling up layer upon layer.
Zhou Jingguo stared intently at her frightened, restrained expression. His gaze was sharp and intimidating, brimming with a powerful need for control, crushing her confidence and dignity inch by inch.
Amid the swirling smoke, the last ember burned out completely and faded into darkness.
A night of silent restraint and oppression.
Sweat and cold tears soaked the thin pillowcase.
All her grievances, fear, and helplessness were sealed away in the silent night, becoming a bone-deep, inescapable despair in Song Haitang's heart.
The memory of being a child is still fresh in my mind. I was also naughty when I was a child. Grandma also talked about how when she was young, there was no meat to eat.