Marriage Crisis
Spring Reckoning
Ten years into our marriage, my husband began lavishing attention on a Transmigrator outside our home.
While the two of them were in the throes of their affair, that Transmigrator, in all her ignorance, came to make a scene before me.
“As expected of a feudal relic trapped in the inner residence until death. You think everyone is like you, unable to live without a man. You underestimated me and belittled him. Apologize.”
I sat in my warm, cushioned sedan chair, my head propped lazily on one hand, without even lifting my eyes.
“Slap her mouth. Use the roughest bamboo paddle.”
This feudal relic might not have much else, but my rank was a little higher, and my methods a little harsher.
So when they beat her, they put a little more force into it.
