On the Third Day After I Died, He Started Talking to the Air

The day I died, it rained heavily. Shen Duzhou knelt in the mud, holding my already cold body, burying his face in the crook of my neck. His shoulders didn't tremble, nor did he cry; he only whispered, "You can't escape." As if I were still alive, merely trying to flee from him. 1. My name is Wen Heng. I died at twenty-three, just four months after marrying into the Shen family. I was hit by a car. It wasn't an accident; it was arranged. I know it's because Shen Duzhou's father, Shen Boheng, stood in the corridor outside the mourning hall on the day of my funeral and lit a...