A phone call from a strange woman told me that my almost perfect husband had been with her last night. She asked me to meet, and I happily went to the appointment. However, after being pushed downstairs, I watched blood pouring out of the body. This is my body. The boy on the side came to me carelessly: "You are indeed dead." Under my questioning, he seemed a little helpless: "Then it depends on your definition of death." So, what is going on?
