I killed my husband?

A boy who has just turned seven years old is locked in a dark room all day and fantasizes about the existence of a good friend named "Xiao Ming" - do you believe what this child says?

I am Shota Tamada's mother, my name is Yoko Tamada, and I am Chinese New Year's Eve years old. A lot of people say I look like I'm twenty-five, but I can tell what's true and what's complimentary. Objectively and fairly, when I face the mirror after every shower, carefully examine every detail of my body, and look at the water droplets on my skin, I look more like a twenty-seven-year-old young woman who has not yet given birth.

Actually, my name is Yoko Matsukawa.

But I've gotten used to the name Yoko Tamada - first, it's my son Shota's last name, his surname that he never changes, even though I don't love my husband Eiji Tamada; Second, I hate the surname Matsukawa, which for me is not an honor, but a disgrace.

As you know, my husband was swept away by the tsunami in Japan last year, and I live alone with my son, Shota, in this city on the east coast of China. My livelihood is based on my husband's savings and a monthly allowance from my father-in-law, who is the president of a large company, from Japan. I also write columns about Chinese society and culture for Japanese newspapers, and I have lived in China for many years, and my Chinese language skills are among the best. For the past six months, I have been working every night translating a Chinese mystery novel, which I hope will be published in Japan next year.

April 1. Sunday. Night, 22:19.

It was a spring evening, but it was thundering and raining, so I took Shota to the Future Dream Building, Calford Supermarket on the second basement floor. Why do you come to shop at night when the supermarket is about to close? Because, my son can only be seen at night.

When everyone sees Shotae for the first time, they are frightened by his pale complexion. Some people think of zombies, others think of vampires, and occasionally idiots who lack common sense think he's a half-breed. Shota is of course purely Japanese, and the only son of my husband Eiji Tamada, who inherited the lineage of Japan's famous Sengoku generals and 300,000 stone pedigree daimyo of the shogunate period, and will become the head of the Tamada family in the future.

Seven years ago, when I returned to Japan to give birth to Shota, I noticed that the baby's skin color was abnormal. Out of concern about genetics, I didn't dare to go out with my son in my arms, and the house wore thick curtains until my husband forcibly sent the child for examination.

Sure enough, the test result was that Zhengtai had congenital lupus erythematosus.

This disease is terrible when you hear the name, right? An autoimmune disease in which the face is usually atrophied, scarred, and plain changed on the basis of erythema, as if it had been bitten by a wolf, hence the name. Systemic lupus erythematosus can also damage various body systems and organs. Lupus erythematosus patients should not be exposed to the sun because ultraviolet rays can denature the skin's DNA, causing serious damage to the body. Some patients can't even shine on the moon, which is also a reflection of the sun's rays.

The doctor sentenced Zhengtai to life imprisonment - the child will not be able to shine in the sun for the rest of his life, otherwise it is likely to cause sudden death due to organ failure.

Zhengtai is an extremely rare variant of lupus erythematosus, which not only does not have the usual red patches on his body, but is born with a bloodless pale color, like the skin color of a person after death.

The disease is highly inherited from mother to daughter, but Shota's lupus erythematosus was inherited from his grandfather.

My father, a master of Japanese mystery fiction, Furutsuki Matsukawa, was a secret lupus erythematosus patient.

No one knows about this except my closest family, not even my husband. My father's complexion wasn't as pale as Shota's. He never participates in public events such as book signings, and has always only gone out at night, and every time he meets with the editor of the publishing house and gives interviews to reporters, he is in the small bar in the middle of the night. Day and night, he had to draw thick curtains and write novels at home with candles lit.

However, lupus erythematosus is not necessarily hereditary, and it usually runs in families ranging from 5 to 12 percent. I wasn't inherited at all, and I thought that since I was safe, my children would be okay – forgetting that there is such a thing as intergenerational inheritance in nature.

After the birth of my son, my husband began to snub me, probably thinking that a famous nobleman like the Yutian family suffered from such a strange disease in Zhengtai's generation, and the blame was all on me, the mother. As the heir to the family business and the general manager of China, the husband must work in China all year round. Zhengtai also grew up in China, but he grew up in a world without sunlight, and his home was always surrounded by thick black curtains and iron railings outside the windows, day and night.

At first, the husband could bear it, but then there were more and more complaints. He is an athletic man who goes on vacation to Hawaii or Bali every year to enjoy the tropical sun and beaches. But as long as he lives with me and Shota, he can only live a dark life. As a result, he always lives outside for various reasons, such as visiting factories all over China, going to the United States or Europe for meetings.

A year ago, I heard that a private hospital in Japan had developed the latest technology to treat lupus erythematosus. I dragged my husband to take my son back to China to see a doctor. The hospital is located in a scenic area on the Pacific coast, more than a dozen kilometers from the coastline. When the doctor examined Zhengtai, the child had a premonition of disaster and pulled me onto the roof of the hospital, and sure enough, the tsunami came and flooded the entire hospital. My husband went missing in the floods, the hospital was destroyed, and with a nuclear leak in Japan, I quickly returned to China with my son.

I guess the city should be the safest. Of course, if the end of the world comes, that's a different story.

When Calford Supermarket fell into darkness, the entire building quickly sank into the ground, screams and cries for help resounded all around...... In my short life of thirty years old, I experienced three major earthquakes: the first was the one in my hometown seventeen years ago, which took the lives of my parents; The second time was last year's earthquake and tsunami, which left my husband's life and death unknown. The third time was the end of the world – the only consolation I had was that I couldn't have encountered a fourth again.

If, for my part, I would have accepted that it was the third time in my life that I had suffered a catastrophe, this time no one was spared, and the entire Japanese archipelago would have sunk to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean.

But my son, Zhengtai, he is only seven years old, and his life has just begun—no, he has been locked in a dark room since he was a child, he has never seen the sun, and his life has not yet begun!

A man walked up to me and lit up my face with a flashlight.

Many times in my dreams, in the cold and darkness of the end of the world, when I was lonely and desperate to bow my head and weep, a man appeared in front of me, he illuminated me with a beam of light, and then grabbed my hand and escaped from hell.

The young man who handed me the flashlight, a Chinese man in a supermarket uniform, had the same face as the one I had seen in my dreams.

His name is Tao Ye, five years younger than me, and he works as a tally clerk at Calford Supermarket.

Tao Ye lives next door to us, he knows my mind and always cares about helping me. Every time Shota slipped away from me, he always helped me find it.

Once, I took Shota to the bookstore on the fourth floor, which is where Tao Ye frequents the most, and sure enough, I saw him sitting on the floor reading a book, "Hell Becomes a Murder Incident", which was the work of my father, Matsukawa Kotsuki.

He didn't want me to find out that he was reading the book, and I could guess why he did it. And I don't want others to know that I am the daughter of Matsukawa Furutsuki.

My father's favorite writer was Ryunosuke Akutagawa, and he liked Akutagawa's short story "Hell Change" the most. When his father was young, he aspired to win the Akutagawa Prize, but he accidentally embarked on the road of mystery fiction, and was fortunate enough to make a name for himself in the 80s, winning the Naoki Prize without controversy - but he was haunted by the Akutagawa Prize until his death.

For an isolated lupus erythematosus patient, writing is the only chance to change his life. My father often told me about his miserable childhood, because he couldn't see the sun, he couldn't go to school normally, he didn't have any friends since he was a child, and he was always alone at home. Fortunately, there are hundreds of books in the family, especially my grandfather, who is particularly fond of reading novels, in addition to masters such as Natsume Soseki and Akutagawa Ryunosuke, it is Edogawa Ranbu, Yokozo Masashi, and Matsumoto Kiyohari's mystery novels. I think that in such a lonely and dreary childhood, watching Ryunosuke Akutagawa in a dark room in the dark, he will either grow into a genius or turn into a ghost.

I think my father is a genius and a demon in one.

And the one who created such a combination of genius and evil spirits, in addition to the lupus erythematosus gene buried deep in our veins, was my grandfather.

I remember my grandfather as a taciturn man who always wore a kimono and lived in a Japanese-style house. He likes to read, read haiku, play Go, has a strong Kansai accent, is quite lustful at his age, and often visits weathered areas. My grandfather's favorite novel is also "Hell Changes" by Ryunosuke Akutagawa.

When I was 12 years old, I heard my grandfather tell me that he had fought in World War II in China as a young man. Once, his squadron captured a temple, and at first they had great respect for the monks, but later it was discovered that the temple was hiding anti-Japanese guerrillas, and the captain ordered all the monks to be killed. The grandfather stabbed three of them to death with a bayonet. He said that this was not a confession, because the tone of the narration was quite steady, as relaxed as reciting haiku. The point is that in this thousand-year-old temple, Japanese soldiers accidentally discovered a beautiful mural. My grandfather, who had been obsessed with antiquities since childhood, recognized them as Hell Alterations—the scenes in which they were so brutal that he described them to me in Kansai dialect: the demons cut people into dozens of pieces naked, poured hot iron into women's mouths, and poked people into a sieve on the tips of dense knives......

My grandfather said that the Hell Variation was originally a Buddhist painting, which depicted the scene of hell, which was popular in ancient China, and can be seen in many ancient Chinese murals and cave carvings. During the Heian period, it spread to Japan, and evolved into the "Jill Straw Paper" with a picture scroll. Ryunosuke Akutagawa's "Hell Changes" is written about this kind of hell diagram from ancient China. My grandfather, who was over the age of old, couldn't help but be fascinated, and the more he lay on the tatami mat, the more excited he became, and he couldn't extricate himself...... Twelve-year-old me was only frightened, huddled in the corner of the house, afraid to look at him. After a few moments, I smelled the smell of urine and panicked to my grandfather, who was cold.

I think that when my father was a child, when he was locked up alone in a dark room to study, his grandfather must have told him this story, detailing the massacres in ancient Chinese temples and the blood-stained murals of Hell Transformation - probably for this reason, my father was obsessed with "Hell Changes" for life.

When I was holding my grandfather's funeral and sorting out his belongings, I found a thick pile of diaries left behind by my grandfather's participation in the Sino-Japanese War. I hid my diary without telling my father and read some of the passages. What the diary describes is the real hell! My grandfather had slaughtered many innocent Chinese, including the elderly, the weak, women and children, and he had no remorse in his diary, on the contrary, he was triumphant - I was sure that my grandfather was a demon. I'm afraid my father already knew everything, and his inherited lupus erythematosus may also be a kind of retribution.

Later, I chose to study Chinese, on the one hand, I wanted to understand China and its culture, and on the other hand, I had a sense of atonement - to try to make up for the sins that my grandfather had committed, although it was destined to be irrepayable.

My father published his first mystery novel at the age of thirty, which immediately became an instant sensation. He began to have his own social circle, met my mom, who was a reader of my father, fell in love with him because of his admiration, married him without a wedding, despite his lupus erythematosus and peculiar habits, as well as the opposition of his mother's family, and gave birth to me two years later.

That is the most wrong choice in my mother's life, literary young women who admire writers, don't commit to the man you admire!

No one would have imagined that the master of mystery fiction, Matsukawa Furutsuki, has all kinds of outrageous quirks.

He had many cats, and every time he wrote a new novel, he would catch one and knock it to death with a hammer. The dozen or so cats in the family were all tortured and killed, except for the last two kittens who were taken out by me and released. Not satisfied, he raised another litter of hamsters - this small animal is characterized by rapid reproduction, and soon raised more than a hundred. He kept these hamsters in his study, and every time he put down his pen, he would suffocate them into a glass of water and drown one.

My father was also obsessed with my body.

That year, I was just starting to develop. Watching the TV series "Human Disqualification" and "Kanedaichi Juvenile Incident Book" every night, and being even more obsessed with KinKi Kids' cousins, presumably because they are also from Kinki. Every morning I wake up feeling as if someone has broken into my room. I didn't suspect my father until I took a shower and there was some movement outside, and I didn't have time to get dressed, so I quickly opened the door and found that it was my father peeking! He walked away as if nothing had happened, and I crouched on the ground and cried. Actually, my mother knew these secrets of his, but she was a submissive woman, and she could only go to my room often to sleep in order to prevent my father's various perverted behaviors.

Soon after, there was a great earthquake in Kobe.

I miraculously survived. I touched my mother's body first, and then my father, who was still breathing. He took my hand and died.

I guess he still loves his daughter.

Before I was dug up by the rescue team, I found myself unable to move my hand and was firmly grasped by my dead father. In the cold air, my father's fingers were as stiff as iron after his death, and I tried with all my strength until all four of his fingers were broken.

I lived in a relief tent for half a month, and then I was taken to my old house in the countryside by my relatives. Soon, the publisher who had previously published his father's novel came to the door and said that his father had already signed a new book for them, and he didn't know if it had been completed. I first heard about "Hell Turns Murderous."

So, I went back to Kobe and dug up a mutilated manuscript from under the rubble of my house.

Unfortunately, I only found the first half of my father's posthumous work, "Hell Becomes a Murder Incident", and the second half may have been taken away by wild dogs, or maybe it was never written in the first place.

After reading the first half of this mystery novel, I found that there is a character in the book who is based on me! Whether it's age or personality, it's almost exactly the same as me. I have to admire my father's first-class portrayal of the characters, like a painter's sketch to accurately describe all the details. Even if you haven't seen me, you can imagine what I look like after reading this book.

I understood why my father was obsessed with my body.

Because his life circle is extremely narrow, it is impossible to get to know other girls, and he can only take his daughter as a target.

What makes me sad and indignant is that my father actually wrote this thirteen-year-old girl who was based on me as a tragic character who was forced to sell her body!

I hate him. Therefore, I decided to take revenge on him in a special way.

At the age of thirteen, I had read all of my father's works and knew his style and language well. Many of his novels have similarities, almost the exact pattern, and they can be deduced accordingly, as long as the last ruse is not repeated. However, I don't want to write this father's posthumous work as his cliché. Through this book, I want to create a real Matsukawa Futsuki, a person who never sees the light of day, who is extremely perverted and violent, and who thinks that the world is completely dark. And unlike his seemingly weird but warm but warm works, singing and sighing, readers think that the author is a good husband and father with a good nature and a desire for innocence! I'm going to uncover the true face of Matsukawa Furutsuki and let readers all over Japan know that he is not the perfect mystery fiction master you imagined to be.

Half a year later, I handed over the complete book to the publisher. No one knew that I actually wrote the second half of the book.

The editor was shocked when he read it, but since it was the posthumous work of Master Matsukawa Kotsuki, he decided to print it word for word.

At the memorial service on the first anniversary of his father's death, a grand launch ceremony was held for "Hell Becomes Murderous". This book quickly became the most controversial work of Matsukawa's life. Some people hate this book very much, thinking that its dark style will cause a psychological shadow to the reader. There are also people who are full of praise for this book, and they are all young readers with heavy tastes. Some people also pointed out that the style of this book is very different from that of Matsukawa Kotsuki, and that it is very different from the usual style of Matsukawa Furutsuki, and it is suspected that it is ghostwritten.

A few months later, there were special suicides in various parts of Japan, and the deceased carried this book "Hell Becomes Murderous" with them when they decided, and some also left suicide notes saying that after reading this posthumous work of Master Matsukawa Furutsuki, they completely lost confidence in humans as animals, and it was better to die early to avoid suffering again. The most controversial plot in the book is that the girl who was forced to sell herself at the age of thirteen deliberately killed her father in order to get a screen of ancient Chinese hell - although there are also some reasons for revenge.

Yes, this is my revenge on my father!

The secret of "Hell Becomes Murder" has been buried in my heart for seventeen years, and I will not tell it until I die.

Now, in the bookstore of the end of the world, watching the Chinese version of "Hell Becomes a Murderous Incident", I hope Tao Ye is the last reader.

He looked at me with a nervous look, of course every time, especially when I approached, and his cheeks flushed when I touched his fingers occasionally. He may not have tasted a woman yet. I resisted the urge to talk to him, to stay close to him and smell the man's scent. Cultivation is like a blank sheet of paper, and I am afraid that leaving a single ink mark on it will be a great destruction and sin. And, after last year's tsunami, I felt like I could never really love a man again.

I don't mean to say I only love my husband.

Actually, I need a man. In the past year, I have been lying in bed for many lonely nights, tossing and turning, and some desire is burning more and more intensely in my body.

On the fourth night of the apocalypse, I waited until my son fell asleep and couldn't hold back my tears. In the last two days, seven of the survivors have died, most of them brutally murdered - listening to Tao Ye talk about this asura-like scene, a hell map floats in my mind. I believe that every murderer has his own reason - despair of certain death? Or some kind of irrepressible hatred? Or is it that in an environment where there are no police and no law, people can do whatever they want and kill as they want?

I didn't want to wake up Shota, so I hid in the hallway and cried alone. A figure approached me, and I knew that he was cultivated, so I was not afraid. He crouched down, touched my face, and wiped away tears. I didn't resist and let the tears flow. As his fingers ran over my lips, I boldly bit it. I wrapped the tip of my tongue around his fingertips and felt salty.

Tao Ye picked me up.

I subconsciously struggled while he gagged me firmly and carried me into a small dark room. He slammed me against the wall, tears not stopping him, and he rudely pressed his mouth to my lips.

"Ahh In an instant, I couldn't switch Chinese in my mind, and I shouted it directly in my native language.

I really regret it, this shouting made him even more excited......

I don't know how long it took, I got up from Tao Ye's body, straightened my clothes and hair, and returned to Shota next door.

The next day, we were a little embarrassed by each other and didn't say much. However, Zhengtai's eyes looking at Tao Ye were a little strange, which made me faintly uneasy.

At night, I tossed and turned, thinking about the madness of last night, even though I was surprised, but gradually became excited. I walked to the next room and pounced on the twenty-five-year-old Chinese man. He's just a supermarket tally clerk, from the countryside to the big city, and he's looked down upon by everyone — but I don't care, I just care that he's a man, a man with clear eyes.

I don't have a few days left in my life, and this is the last chance to indulge in my short life of constantly suppressing myself. But I still despair, it was a fate that I couldn't get rid of, and when I kissed my body, I thought of my husband.

I met Eiji Tamada when I was a student at Kyoto University. That year, he was preparing to take over the Chinese branch of the family business, and he often came to visit the Chinese professor at our school, and from then on he began to pursue me. My first impression of him was not very good, although his thin appearance resembled that of a fashion star, he was dressed in a brand, and he drove a BMW Z4 sports car in and out of school, which often caused many girls to scream, but I didn't care. My father's legacy, as well as the royalties from the republication of my work every year, were enough for me to make a good living.

What I'm missing is love.

When I was thirteen years old, I pretended to be my father and finished writing "Hell Becomes a Murder Incident", and I fell into my inner fear - only then did I begin to understand my father, how twisting the mind it must be for a person to write so many horrific murders and pretend that the world is still beautiful. What's more, I finished writing "Hell Becomes a Murder Incident" with resentment, and this resentment and dark emotions will undoubtedly be brought into my life and will never be erased.

I wish there was a man who made me love him madly and took me out of the dark room of my father buried in my heart.

Eiji Tamada was my first boyfriend, and after I graduated from college, he became my husband.

My grandfather was only an army soldier in World War II, and Eiji's grandfather was a general in the Combined Fleet, and it seems that the status of our two families is very different, but fortunately, my father is a famous mystery novelist, and he also won the famous Naoki Award - it is not a bad thing for the son of a big entrepreneur to marry the daughter of a great writer.

Soon after the marriage, Shota was born.

Because Shota suffered from congenital lupus erythematosus, my husband soon stopped pampering me, and my parents-in-law began to be cold to me, often suggesting that the Tamada family was a samurai, and the generations of bows and horses were skilled and healthy, and they never had strange problems.

Soon, I found out that my husband had another woman outside.

I tolerated it, just as I tolerated my father before. Although, I also thought about suicide to break off the sins that my father had left me. However, as long as I think of Shota who never sees the sun, I force myself to live.

However, there was one thing that made me completely hopeless about my husband.

Three years ago, a fire broke out at one of the Yutian family's factories in China. On the night of the incident, her husband received a call from the Japanese factory director. I overheard a few numbers in bed and couldn't help but feel creepy. Ten minutes later, my husband hurried out and told me to come home in a few days.

The next day, I saw on TV the news of a fire in a Japanese-owned factory, in which nine Chinese workers were killed. But the number of victims I heard last night was clearly in the triple digits! It just so happened that Shota returned to Japan a few days ago and was taken care of by my grandparents in Tokyo, so I decided to go alone to find out the truth.

I chartered a business car and drove four hours on the highway to a city in Chinese mainland where the fire broke out at a Japanese-owned factory. There were numerous police cordons at the scene, and no one, including journalists, was allowed to enter. I saw my husband's assistant and lied that he had left important information at home and asked me to send it quickly. I infiltrated the scene of the fire and found that the windows of the staff dormitory were equipped with iron railings to prevent employees from leaving the factory at night. As a result, the fire reached the dormitory, and many people were burned alive by the windows—and many of the corpses were not cleaned up, and the charred bodies were as black as charcoal, shrunk to the size of children. Some of them put their hands out of the railing, but their bodies were burned to ashes. I saw a look of despair on the faces of the burned corpses......

It's a scene that no real hell can be depicted, and it will be eclipsed by any master of painting, including Ryunosuke Akutagawa's Yoshihide.

I vomited on the spot and escaped from the factory over the wall before anyone else could find out.

Nine victims? Come on! I've seen more than dozens of corpses! Plus those who have been shipped out, and those who have been completely burned to ashes, at least one or two hundred Chinese workers, have fallen victim to these iron railings!

My husband is familiar with the Chinese market, especially good at dealing with local officials, and he has resorted to many despicable methods, spent money to buy off local officials, and concealed the truth about the heavy casualties, and he is really worthy of being the heir carefully cultivated by the Yutian family.

But I can't do anything, I can't tell my husband. If I divorce Eiji Tamada because of this, the Japanese judge will find that I am the party at fault in the marriage, and that I betrayed my husband's family and betrayed them, resulting in a significant loss of profits. What's more, the Yutian family is very influential in the political circles, and there have been many members of Congress, and the balance of judges will also be tilted in their favor - Zhengtai's custody will definitely be awarded to the man.

How will a son with congenital lupus erythematosus survive if he loses his mother? The child may give up on himself, maybe he will accidentally get into the sun, and then ......

It's just that I don't sleep in the same bed with my husband anymore, and he doesn't mind, he can get satisfaction from other women anyway.

A year ago, we returned to Japan to look for a cure for lupus erythematosus at a private hospital on the Pacific Ocean. As you all know, the flood came and the whole hospital was submerged, leaving only the roof to take refuge. Shota was the first to escape, and I followed him closely. My husband was half a step slower, and when the sea reached the top floor, I grabbed his hand in time. Eiji's desire to survive was very strong, and he clung to the eaves and climbed up desperately, and when he was about to climb onto the roof, I let go of my grip on him.

I did it on purpose.

The cold sea breeze blew my hair and blurred my vision, and I thought my gaze must have been cold - it was the last time my husband saw my face, and the first time he saw such a merciless look in my eyes. No doubt he would have been terrified by my expression, falling into the icy filthy waters.

I'm sorry, I was lying at the beginning!

Zhengtai is right, I am the murderer, I killed his father, my husband.

When I stood on the roof and watched my husband being swallowed up by the flood, I looked back and saw my six-year-old son's eyes, and his gaze was as cold as mine.

Before I could be terrified that he had seen me kill his dad, I covered his upper body with my trench coat. Shota must not be exposed in the daylight, even if there is not a glimmer of sunlight. My wide trench coat was like a tent, covering a child who could not see the light.

After we were rescued from the roof by helicopter, I explained to Shota privately that Mom didn't mean to let Dad fall, but that Mom accidentally missed it.

However, when I explained to the police and Eiji's parents, I never mentioned that I had grabbed his hand, only that my husband had been swept away by the flood.

I could see from my son's eyes that he didn't believe my pale excuse at all, and he knew very well in his heart that it was Mom who killed Daddy!

However, Shota never pierced my lies, and when he was alone with his grandparents, he never told the secret of what happened on the roof.

This child is very smart, he knows that he has no father, let alone another mother.

I owe his dad his life. What is this? Revenge? Extrication? Or, the impulse of the moment?

Just like at this moment, under the apocalyptic underground, I and this Chinese man named Tao Ye are frantically enjoying the last lingering.

I will not forget my husband Eiji Tamada, who will be a demon who will follow me forever, maybe floating above my head, watching me with another man.

That night, Mo Xing'er was killed*. Out of a woman's compassion, I washed and wiped her body, but she refused to change into her original white clothes. Early in the morning, she stubbornly walked alone. I also felt scared of Mo Xing'er.

In the afternoon, all the power supply was cut off, and the entire mall was plunged into endless darkness. Tao Ye accompanied us and moved to the eighth floor with relatively clean air. I grabbed his hand, trying not to imagine my own death.

Night-although there is no day or night for a long time, we will no longer avoid it, as long as we wait until Zhengtai falls asleep, I will give myself to Taoye.

Every time it was so crazy, so pleasant, it was something I had never experienced in my eight years of marriage.

Unfortunately, none of us will live long.

In the wee hours of the morning, I shine a tiny flashlight on my cultivated body, how much I like this body, a body that brings me safety and happiness. I found a horrible scar on his shoulder, which he said was bitten by a dog as a child, but it didn't look like a trace of a dog's teeth by any means.

The only thing that can be confirmed is that this is a man, or boy, who has been wounded, both physically and mentally.

As I fell asleep in the dark, I don't know how long it took, I suddenly heard a screeching sound.

I immediately jumped up alertly. I don't know what time it is, but Tao Ye is not by my side, and even Zhengtai is gone! I hurriedly grabbed a flashlight and rushed out, and the voice came from downstairs, and it was actually "help" in Japanese!

"Shota!" I screamed and ran from the escape to the seventh floor. Oh my God, it's pitch black everywhere, where are you? Finally, I heard strange noises. Following the sound of rushing over, in a shop that probably sells model cars and airplanes, two figures were illuminated by a flashlight.

The child below is undoubtedly Zhengtai, and above is an adult man, covered in dust and debris, emitting an unpleasant stench, and is pinching Zhengtai's neck!

Without hesitation, I pulled the knife from my waist - what Cultivation had given me last night for self-defense, and he said that the animals here were very dangerous, and stabbed the man in the back.

One, two, three, four......

When blood splattered my hands, he was finally killed by me and turned into a corpse.

In addition to my husband, I killed a second person.

What's that? I'm here to protect my son, not to mention that everyone will eventually die at the end of the world, I'm just so that poor Shota can live a little longer.

I didn't have time to tell who I had killed, so I picked up Shota from the ground first, I didn't want to blame the kid for running around, I only blamed myself for not keeping an eye on him. I said "I'm sorry" repeatedly, but wiped the remaining warm blood of the dead man on my son's face.

At this moment, there was a terrifying gunshot from downstairs - where did the gun come from?

I quickly carried Shota back to the eighth floor, wiped the blood off him, and hugged each other in the corner.

Ten minutes later, Tao Ye staggered back. I asked him where the gunshots came from, but he didn't answer.

And I didn't say anything about the killing.

All day, all three of us waited in despair. Occasionally, I saw Zhou Xuan and Ding Zi a few times, they were equipped with weapons all over their bodies, and they passed upstairs with murderous energy. I can be sure that Mo Xing'er is still alive, but she ignores us. As for Professor Wu and Mr. Luo and his dog, they have all disappeared from this world.

At nine o'clock in the evening, there was a noticeable vibration upstairs!

I stared into Shota's eyes, as if I could feel some kind of change in him every time disaster came!

Don't...... I was surprised and delighted, but also frightened, kissed Tao Ye's ear and said, "If you can escape alive, I will live with you with Zhengtai!" ”

He nodded gratefully, took my and Shota's hands, and rushed to the ninth floor in one go.

There were still a few people running ahead, and we followed behind and rushed into the exit aisle of the movie theater. Tao Ye rushed straight to the front to explore the way, but he didn't expect the ceiling to fall. I covered Shota with my whole body, all the weight on me.

Finally, when I was about to choke, the angel came.

You know the rest - Shota and I were the first survivors to be rescued to the ground, and became the focus of countless shots.

At night, sleeping in the isolation ward, I still miss Tao Ye, I miss every moment with him in the seven days and seven nights underground, every second of excitement brought to me, I really want to hug him tightly now!

Sleepless ......

The next day, the police officer named Ye Xiao came to interrogate me, but I would never tell him any secrets.

I don't want to burden myself with the sin of murder, and I don't want the police to know about other cruel deaths.

A few hours ago, Shota's grandparents flew from Japan to see us. I was embarrassed by their presence, my husband is still on the missing persons list, so legally he is still alive and they are still my parents-in-law. I still received them very politely and said that everything was normal underground and that everyone was united and got through the storm.

After that, Shota's grandfather said excitedly, "Shota! Your dad isn't dead! He'll be back soon! ”

In an instant, my heart was petrified, but I still had to disguise a smile of surprise!

My parents-in-law told me that the Japanese police recently found a patient who had lost his memory in a hospital. A year ago, he was spotted on the beach after the tsunami receded. However, he suffered a severe blow to the head and lost most of his memory, making it impossible to confirm his identity. And the place where he was found was far away from the hospital where Eiji Tamada was at the time of the accident. It wasn't until a few days ago that his identity was finally confirmed, and they had visited him, and there was no doubt that he was Shota's father.

When Shota heard the news, he just nodded faintly and continued to bow his head and play with the toys that his grandfather brought from Japan. And I pretended to be so happy that I almost burst into tears.

Shota's grandfather told me that Eiji is gradually recovering, but the doctors can't tell when he will regain his memory, and he may have to wait ten years or suddenly remember it all tomorrow.

When my parents-in-law left the hospital, I collapsed on the bed in cold — I had to take Shota back to Japan to take care of my husband, who had lost his memory and could have to recuperate for the rest of his life.

Once my husband regains his memory, he remembers the moment I let go of my hand on the roof of the hospital a year ago and let him fall.

He knew I did it on purpose.

Looking at my son's face as pale as a dead man, I despaired—I would rather Shota had been saved and I was left at the end of the world.

There is a saying that is true: everything will be different.