Outside the window, the convoy of people out of the city lined up in a straight line was orderly crowded on the solemn highway, and the glaring taillights connected to form a lifeless, red-scaled dragon.

Behind every patch of red is a story, anxious, hungry, relieved, and sweet, but without exception they all have a clear destination, a rich or faint exclusive belonging—something that the lifeless I can't spontaneously touch at the moment.

I sat by the floor-to-ceiling window, fiddling with a cigarette, and remembered my wife pretentiously.

What was she doing at this time?

Maybe the company is working overtime, sitting in an office that smells of peeling skin of old wooden furniture, turning on the orange heater, tapping stiffly on a cartoon keyboard with anime characters, rubbing hands and massaging stiff arms from time to time.

Or you may be sitting in the bright dining room of your parents-in-law's house, wearing a short-sleeved sports top, teasing the clingy British short pet cat in the warmth of the room in the subtropical region, even if the heating is stopped, waiting for a steaming healthy dinner to be put on the table.

There is even a slight possibility, in the cozy Korean pizzeria, the mature man in the suit and leather shoes sitting opposite is telling elegant jokes, she wears delicate light makeup, holds a knife in her right hand, and gently covers her small plump lips with her left hand and smiles decently.

He took out the incense stick that came with it, lit the incense stick called "Kazari", and pondered the story of "The Tale of Genji", and couldn't help but fall into self-loathing and chagrin.

When did you get into a dislike with your wife? I don't know.

I can't remember how long ago I started talking to her less.

About a year ago, I opened a small studio with less than 10 people, maybe there was a problem with the means of management, and countless projects were either stillborn, or died without illness, or after enthusiastic preparation, the client lost the following in a very social manner, and most of the final payment became a rain of showers falling into the ocean - even the clues to recover disappeared cleanly. In order to pay a high salary, at first he quickly exhausted his family's savings, and in desperation, he began to borrow money from the bank and lived a life of debt. One after another, the staff members thought of reasons that were hard to refuse, and just as the last employee left the company with great consideration (and absolutely sincere and unironic thanks), I was so shy that I couldn't pay the rent, the studio closed its doors, and I naturally became a family squatter who disappeared.

At the same time, the pressure of my wife's position in the company also made her physically and mentally exhausted, and in this situation, I gradually contracted the vice of greedy cups. At first, the more I drank, the more confused I became, and I made a lot of friends who were difficult to call serious, but later the things I came into contact with became more and more messy, and my wife's dissatisfaction with family and work became deaf, so the calm communication between the two evolved into a vicious dispute.

I don't know when, the indescribable things between husband and wife have gone from perfunctory to impossible.

Until one day, I got drunk and unconscious, and my wife completely lost patience with everything after trying to drag me into the house after struggling to sleep in the elevator car. That night, she tried her best to wake me up, and then spit out all the dissatisfaction that had been accumulated in her heart for a long time, almost hysterical, as if the switch was turned off somewhere, my wife suddenly fell silent, while crying silently while methodically packing up her daily necessities, leaving me who was at a loss on the sofa, and leaving our home.

After my wife left, I lay motionless on the couch in a petrified position for two days. I didn't eat or drink for two days, but my head remained absolutely awake, as if I didn't think about anything and thought about everything, until my brain reminded me that a certain part of my body was starting to fail, I got up and drank water from the faucet, and called my father on the landline for help.

So far, my wife and I have not spoken a word.

The footsteps behind me salvaged me from infinite remorse, and I looked back to see that it was Ruby Lin.

"What does it smell like? I thought that some old Taoist priest who came down the mountain stole into the company's practice. He clutched his nose and furrowed his brow in confusion.