The day I married into the Shen family, the whole city was covered with white flags.
There was no sedan chair, no joy, just eight paper horses wrapped in white cloth, pulling a scarlet sedan chair.
There was a woman sitting in the sedan, wearing the same wedding dress as me, and having the same face as me. But there were no eyeballs in her eye sockets, just two dark holes.
She said something to me - "You are not a wife, you are bait."
I am the eighth bride of the Shen family. None of the first seven survived more than two decades.
They all said that the third son of the Shen family was a monster.
But no one told me - he has been waiting for me for three hundred years.
