The depths of the bamboo forest are the abode of pleasure.
I asked my husband, why is it that the world is so vast and boundless, so why is it only limited to this monotonous piece of green?
My husband would always show displeasure, and he would pick up the extremely heavy inkstone on the table and throw it at me.
The inkstone often falls on the back impartially.
At that time, I just remembered that my husband doesn't like me to talk too much. He only wants me to mop the floor and serve tea with a low eyebrow, and keep Ruyiju spotless.
But I always forget the heart-wrenching pain. I ask again and again, and he hits me again and again.
He treats me like the frost and snow in winter, and like the cold moon in the sky.
In addition to talking when he was busy writing, what also annoyed him was that the tea cup was placed too hard on the counter and the water spilled, the washed gown was wrinkled, and the cooked porridge was not fresh enough.
He frowned and hit me with the cane, looking as handsome as ever. His eyes were deep and his lips were tightly closed. He was aloof and finally revealed another side of him that was brutal and ruthless.
There's another side of him that only I can bring out.
I even think that to him, I am different from everyone else in the world.
He never cared about the dense whip marks on his back and the old wounds on his arms that had not yet healed but new ones.
But I care.
Later, he asked me why he didn't struggle every time he was beaten, and he refused to protect himself with his hands. He just knelt quietly on the ground, staring at the ground, and the tears he had accumulated never fell.
I picked up a withered yellow bamboo leaf and put it in the palm of my hand, and answered him timidly.
Sir, it's autumn again.
This is my tenth year in Ruiyiju.
Intention: Love and dislike are both sorrows