When Xiyun returned from the mountains and pushed open the dilapidated wooden gate to her home, she saw her husband making a fire to cook dinner.
Orange light shone through the firewood opening in the stove, lending her husband's face a warm glow.
Xiyun looked at her husband's hands. They were grayish-white, with mud packed under his nails, and dead leaves clung to his hair. Her heart leapt into her throat. She quietly took two steps back as her husband staggered to his feet.
With a thud, her husband fell to the ground. His lower legs had come apart from his thighs, revealing blood-red flesh and ghastly white bones.
Lying on the ground, he reached a hand toward Xiyun. As he crawled, he asked, "Honey, aren't you going to eat? I stewed my bones into soup for you."
A writing exercise, one-on-one romance.
The female lead has no romantic experience; the male lead does. This will be completed, but the update schedule and the length, whether long or short, are not guaranteed.
I write whatever I dream about.
Theme: Live well.
