Chapter 1

It is hard to imagine that someone like Bai Wei would fall into marriage at the age of 24.

He stood at the front desk of the psychology clinic, his slender fingers holding a pen. His fine, yet neatly trimmed bangs, the lace-edged shirt, amber eyes under long curly eyelashes, and his pale skin all made him look like a noble student who had just graduated from a prestigious school.

This exemplary student was neatly filling in his name on the form. The nurse, attracted by his face, was sneaking glances at him.

Name: Bai Wei.

Marital Status: Married.

Education: Graduate of Beidu University.

Occupation: Writer, works from home.

Spouse’s Occupation (if any):

Here, the ink spread out a little, and then:

Maintenance Worker.

Purpose of Consultation:

With no hesitation, he wrote: Marriage Counseling.

It is hard to imagine that a top graduate from Beidu University would show up in this small town, where the only thing to commend is the simplicity of the local customs, and where all institutions lack professionalism, and life is excessively monotonous.

It is now 3:30 PM.

“Due to the previous consultation running over time, you’ll have to wait another ten minutes,” the nurse tried to find a topic to keep the customer in good spirits. “Are you a writer? This is the first time I’ve met a writer.”

“Yes.”

“I thought such interesting jobs only existed in big cities. What brought you to live in Snow Mountain Town? Is it a writer’s quest for inspiration?”

“Snow Mountain Town is adjacent to the snowy mountains, and the air is fresh. It’s good for my respiratory system. My husband also likes it here,” Bai Wei placed his hands on his knees.

The way he said “husband” felt so rigid, like a chemist saying “methylphenyl dimethoxysilane,” as if his “husband” was not his lover but rather some compound placed somewhere in the world that nobody really understands.

“Husband… oh, I mean, you have a husband,” the nurse said.

What kind of person uses formal language to refer to their own spouse? Even more ridiculous was that the nurse found herself mimicking Bai Wei’s formal speech. This made her start speaking in formal language too.

Bai Wei stopped speaking. The nurse’s attempt to engage with him failed. She pitied Bai Wei, thinking he must be in a terrible mental state and suffering abuse in his marriage.

Every move Bai Wei made seemed to embody ancient etiquette. Every wrinkle-free fiber of his clothing screamed: I am an exemplary student from a prestigious family, not the kind that got rich from coal mining, but the kind with a heritage, the kind that eats at long tables. A writer, polite, from a noble family, who did not stay in the big city, but eloped with a man to this godforsaken small town.

Even that man was just a repairman.

Everyone would think that such a flawless young man would not enter marriage prematurely and would have the ability to control his life, making it as smooth as a promotional poster. But clearly, this young man had fallen into two traps of fate: marrying too early and being unable to control his life, to the point where he had to seek help from the only psychological counseling office in this small town.

In an instant, the nurse had completed a mental supplement of the entire story.

What a pitiful person… the nurse thought, deciding to forgive Bai Wei for the poor communication with her.

“Dr. Han Mo has finished his consultation. I’ll take you to his office now.” Hearing the noise in the house, she smiled brightly again.

A crying woman with heavy makeup pushed open the glass door, carrying a small red bag, and left this place that had made her sad.

The nurse held the glass door. She saw Bai Wei stand up from the waiting sofa, smoothing the wrinkles on his pants, everything was so impeccable—at that moment, the nurse’s eyelid twitched because she hadn’t even noticed there was a wrinkle there. It wasn’t until she walked her evenly-paced guest to Dr. Han Mo’s office and left the two in the room that an animal-like sense of crisis welled up in her heart:

She couldn’t find a reason, but everything about this guest made her feel an odd threat to life.

A clock hung on the wall of the consultation room. When Dr. Han came back from fetching water, he found the young man staring at the hour and minute hands with eyes like glass beads.

More than a young man, Bai Wei retained more juvenile features in his appearance, despite his tall and slender figure. His chin was sharp, the jawline was soft, and he had cat-like eyes with pupils much larger than average. These facial features made him look obedient and serious when focusing on something.

Now, those eyes turned to him.

Dr. Han suddenly felt a bit guilty. He wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, hoping Bai Wei hadn’t seen the lipstick mark left by the previous patient on his face.

“Dr. Han, are we starting the consultation now?” Bai Wei asked.

“Yes. Nice to meet you.” Dr. Han said, not telling Bai Wei that he had just taken the opportunity of fetching water to review Bai Wei’s file again.

“Okay.” Bai Wei seemed a bit reserved, “It’s now 3:42 PM, which is twelve minutes later than our scheduled time…”

“Oh, I apologize for that. I spent too much time with the previous lady. But our one-hour consultation time is still valid, we can continue until 4:50 PM. You are my last client today.” Dr. Han thought he was being humorous by winking.

—-

“It’s 4:42 PM, Dr. Han. I’m a bit worried that I won’t make it in time for my husband’s off-work time.” Bai Wei said.

Nitpicking control issues—instantly, Dr. Han made a contemptuous judgment about the reason for this young man’s marital problems based on his experience.

“Okay, 4:42 PM. Did you drive here? If not, I can give you a ride home.” Dr. Han said.

Bai Wei held the cup and stopped talking.

Before the consultation began, Bai Wei asked a new question: “Dr. Han, I want to know, are you professional?”

—A question every new client would ask, reflecting Bai Wei’s inner weakness and lack of confidence. Dr. Han judged again.

“You can look at those medals and certificates on the cabinet, which should be proof of my qualifications.” Dr. Han said confidently, having spent fifty thousand yuan on these certificates. He could guarantee they were the highest quality replicas on the market.

People might not trust the professional knowledge learned in four years of university because students often slack off, cheat for fake grades, and forget every page of their books after finals. But every penny spent on fake certificates was real, more sincere than signing in for each class. On this level, Dr. Han was already on the next level.

Bai Wei’s eyes moved to the direction of the certificates. He stared at them for a long time. Somehow, when Bai Wei’s eyes met his again, Dr. Han felt a bit creepy. Bai Wei’s amber glass-like eyes gave him the illusion of being seen through.

“I’m reassured now, Dr. Han.” Bai Wei said.

—How could Bai Wei see through his fabricated resume? Especially with just one glance! Dr. Han mocked his own needless worry again. To cover up his previous thoughts, he took out a navy blue pen and opened his notebook: “Bai Wei—can I call you that? Or do you have a preferred name?”

“Bai Wei. I don’t like other nicknames.”

“Okay, Bai Wei. You came here today for marital counseling, right?” Dr. Han asked gently, “What problems are you experiencing in your marriage?”

Silence.

Dr. Han was not surprised. Many clients are not good at describing their problems or opening up, often guarded. He turned to side hints to bridge the distance with Bai Wei: “You are a writer, right?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like your job? You mentioned you moved to this small town a year and a half ago. Has that had a positive impact on your work?”

Writers are often sentimental, with hormonal fluctuations, emotional, and prone to marital issues. Dr. Han made another judgment.

“I have no opinion about moving to the small town. I’ve always worked from home. Every Friday, I use a fax machine to send my week’s work to my editor, that’s what I do. Other than that, I stay at home.” Bai Wei said, “And my husband, he leaves at 9 AM every morning and comes back at 5 PM.”

——A househusband with too much idle time. Despite not knowing Bai Wei well, Dr. Han made a judgment again. He asked with concern, “It sounds like you have a very flexible work schedule. Does your husband expect you to do more housework?”

Bai Wei shook his head. “No. He does more.”

——Too much idle time indeed. People who work from home can overthink when they have too much free time. Dr. Han asked, “Do you two communicate often?”

“When he comes home, he greets me, then sweeps, mops, cooks, and talks endlessly about his day, asking me to go grocery shopping with him. Hmm, he also likes to read my scripts. In the evenings, we watch TV together, soap operas, talk shows, or movies. Besides his work at the repair shop, he’s considering converting part of our house into a bed and breakfast. He’s a restless person,” Bai Wei said, staring at his fingers.

He seemed absent-minded, playing with the cup in his hand.

Introverted, reserved, quiet, insecure. Dr. Han noted these observations.

“Does your husband’s high energy level put a lot of pressure on you?” Dr. Han speculated, “Do you feel stressed in your married life?”

“No… it’s nauseating. It wasn’t like this before we got married. Back then, everything seemed hopeful. But after marriage, everything changed…”

“Could you be more specific?” Dr. Han encouraged him. “I know it’s difficult to describe a feeling in general terms. But as a writer, you should know how to express your feelings through events. For instance, what has happened in the past week that made you feel nauseated?”

Maybe it was just that his husband talked more with a female colleague at the repair shop, or maybe it was about money, Dr. Han thought. The same-sex marriages he had seen were always so fragile.

“Everything about my married life makes me nauseous. Whether it’s the sticky feeling of the poison I put in my husband’s milk in the morning, the jammed device I set on the stairs, the revolver I hid under my pillow that clicked empty when I shot at my husband, or the gas igniter that suddenly malfunctioned while he was asleep and I was out buying groceries…” Bai Wei sat quietly opposite the counselor, picking at his fingers.

Dr. Han’s pen tip broke.

“What did you just say?” He tried to refocus. “Are you sure you’re talking about your married life?”

“In fact, my marriage was very normal. Everything went wrong after my husband crawled back from the grave,” Bai Wei’s eyes were vacant. “He died once, normally, like everyone does.”

Dr. Han was instantly horrified. He felt his body hair stand up like a legion of Amazon warriors, raising their spears, pointing at the enemy in shock.

That narrator with his head down…

So, a question breaking professional ethics slipped out: “Can I ask? How many of your husband’s deaths were your doing?”

As soon as he spoke, Dr. Han regretted it. Every cell in his brain convulsed, wanting to strangle the part of him that asked that question.

“That’s not important. I still want to continue this marriage; otherwise, I can’t get his death compensation as a spouse,” Bai Wei shifted the topic. “That’s why I’m here for marriage counseling.”

Dr. Han: …

Bai Wei first felt the urge to kill his husband six months ago.

Bai Wei was walking when he stepped on a piece of gum. He thought about his husband’s habit of not cleaning up trash in the car. Perhaps one day his husband would also casually throw gum on the ground, sticking to another lady’s shoe. A husband of six months was like unrecyclable garbage. At that moment, just like seeing the sun makes one want to sing, he decided again that he wanted to kill his husband.

Besides, the person who threw the gum had only two hands, but his husband had more than two.

And, his husband was already dead. He had every reason to send him back to the grave.