On the wedding night, my husband handed over the agreement: "Don't be nice to me, otherwise I will die." I sneered and nodded, and treated him coldly every day. It wasn't until he tore up the agreement before he was poisoned and said tremblingly: "My system is forcing me to self-destruct... Save me." It turned out that his so-called "agreement to love his wife" was the shackles of the anti-routine system in his brain. And I am his only antidote
