The Woman Who Killed Her Husband Was Wrong About Everything in Life

This is an utterly absurd story. Its characters' thoughts and actions are built on a foundation that does not exist, and yet this castle in the air never collapses.

A rainy night. A deep ravine. For the sake of her childhood sweetheart, a woman cruelly pushes her husband off a cliff. One of the buttons on her cuff is torn off when her husband grabs her sleeve.

The next day, her husband's body is found, a button clutched in his left hand. She thinks she's done for. But the button isn't hers. It came from her husband's own clothes. She can't make sense of it. Just as she's about to breathe a sigh of relief, someone hands her a note bearing a single question: "Have you fixed the button on your sleeve?" Her heart leaps into her throat. Her button has been pinched between the fingers of an invisible hand.

That invisible hand, that suspended blade, torments her for half her life. It bleeds her of money and power, and tears down the rules she spent her whole life establishing. When the blade finally falls, she fights back. She sends the hand wielding it to hell, and gets the button back.

The moment the button lands in her palm, a chill runs from her head to her feet: it was never hers at all.

She falls into a labyrinth.

She goes to Xianyun Mountain, a Buddhist holy site, to seek out Abbess Liaoyin.

The button's case is closed, but the mystery of love remains unsolved.

The mystery of love is eternal, and has no answer.