I died seven times, each time on my wedding night. After my eighth rebirth, I finally discovered that the person who buried me loved me the most; the person who married me hoped that I would die. Seven deaths grind away all innocence.
On the outside, he is docile and soft, quiet and well-behaved, and can be manipulated by others, but his eyes have no warmth, no kindness, and no mercy.
Extremely sober, extremely cold-blooded, extremely vindictive.
Don't believe in love, don't desire redemption, don't forgive anyone.
In the first seven lives, I passively went to death, but in the eighth life, I completely turned into a black man: Whoever lets me die once, I will drag anyone to hell.
She doesn't love anyone, she only enjoys the pleasure of tearing apart everyone's disguises, controlling everyone's obsessions, and subverting fate with her own hands.
Reader comments
Every time the heroine dies on her wedding night, she is not really dead.
Her bones were sealed in a thousand-year-old coffin underground in the old house, and her soul was trapped in the gap between time and space on the wedding day.
The so-called rebirth is the reenactment of the self-illusion of the soul in the coffin.
Everyone's tenderness, love, guilt, and paranoia were all coffins wrapped in honey, trapping her in layers.
Every time the heroine dies on her wedding night, she is not really dead. Her bones were sealed in a thousand-year-old coffin underground in the old house, and her soul was trapped in the gap between time and space on the wedding day. The so-called rebirth is the reenactment of the self-illusion of the soul in the coffin. Everyone's tenderness, love, guilt, and paranoia were all coffins wrapped in honey, trapping her in layers.