A Young Wife Is Priceless

[Free, but read at your own risk]

[Taboo romance]

[Devilish young wife VS foolish genius PK heartless player VS yandere rich playboy]

[She's a player, the relationships aren't pure, and she's awful]

Written for my own amusement, a self-indulgent indulgence. Don't read this if you have strong moral standards. If you have even a little, don't read it!

If you like it, please add it to your favorites and leave a paw print, to give this tiny author a little encouragement. Muah~

[Blurb]

When she was eight, the school's prettiest young wife sat next to the only son of a wealthy carpenter. He got to eat imported treats.

The stuff was black and hard. She could hear the carpenter's son crunching away.

She asked him for some. "Give me a piece."

He hid the black pieces, his round eyes wary as if she were a thief. "No."

The prettiest young wife stood up with her arms folded and looked down at him. "Why not?"

He opened his mouth and raised an eyebrow. "Why should I?"

The prettiest young wife bent down and planted a smacking kiss on his plump lips, still flecked with crumbs from the black treat.

"Will you give me some now?"

-

At eighteen, the young temptress went abroad with a spoiled rich boy.

On the day she left, she saw the carpenter's son. His father had slapped him so hard that his face was swollen, while his mother hid among the villagers watching the spectacle and spat at the young wife with a vicious glare, mouthing the word:

Slut.

In the scene flashing past in the rearview mirror, the young wife saw the carpenter's son kneeling on the ground, crying like an idiot and shouting:

I don't agree. I don't agree...

The toughest thing he ever said was, "I don't agree."

-

At twenty-eight, the puppet young wife reunited with the carpenter's son.

"Are you married?" she asked, biting a cigarette.

The carpenter's son stammered, "I-I have a wife."

"I've had a wife since I was eight."

"I'm twenty-eight. I've been waiting for her."

"I think I can wait until I'm eighty-eight, if I live that long."

"Why?" the young wife asked. "Why stop waiting at eighty-nine?"

The carpenter's son clenched his fists and stubbornly said, "Because she still hadn't come back by the time I was eighty-eight."

But now she had come back. The carpenter's son picked up the cigarette she'd thrown away. A red lip mark stained the tip, its delicate patterns winding and twisting like rope, like a maze. He put it in his mouth.

Theme: ? Try being a decent person, whether you're good at it or not