1
Before we got married, I knew my husband, Tống Thuận Dương, came from a poor family. He had four older sisters, and their tuition had all been paid for with borrowed money. Everyone around me kept warning me not to let him take advantage of me.
Still, on the day he proposed, his parents sold their family heirlooms to help pay for a custom-made three-carat diamond ring for me, along with the savings Thuận Dương had put away after two years of work. My birth date was engraved inside, and his initials in elegant script on the outside, symbolizing his promise to protect me for the rest of my life.
Tống Thuận Dương made a solemn promise: “I want to show everyone that marriage isn’t a grave. It’s the beginning of a beautiful life. From this day on, I’ll give you all the best things in the world.”
“You don’t have any family left, but my parents will treat you like their own daughter. You’re the treasure of our whole family.”
Those words alone were enough to make me accept his proposal. Even when Thuận Dương was diagnosed with a terminal illness just one month after we married, I didn’t leave him. I cared for him for two whole years.
2
Perhaps because of his illness, after we got married, Thuận Dương became intensely possessive of me. He never let me out of his sight.
Once, while he was taking an afternoon nap, I went downstairs to the café to meet a business associate. When he woke and couldn’t find me, he drove his wheelchair himself through every street, going into one café after another to look for me. He looked just like a little dog whose owner had abandoned it, frantic with fear.
“Thank goodness I found you. Thank goodness…”
When he saw me, Thuận Dương was so agitated he could barely get the words out. He gripped my right hand and kissed it again and again, refusing to let go.
“Please don’t leave my sight. I’m afraid I won’t be able to protect you.”
In the two hours we’d been apart, he seemed to have aged several years. His skin looked wrinkled and dehydrated, dark circles sank beneath his eyes, his eyes were sunken, and even his teeth had started to loosen.
A young man who’d once been so full of life had been tormented by illness until he was like this.
I’ve never forgotten that day. He might not have long to live, but I was determined to stay by his side to the end.
3
After we got married, my health was poor. I often felt dizzy and weak. Sometimes, right after waking up, I couldn’t move my fingers or toes; it would take a long while before I could move normally again. I spent several thousand yuan on a full battery of tests, but they found nothing wrong, so I had no choice but to turn to traditional Chinese medicine and seek treatment over time.
But over the next two years, even after I switched doctors five or six times, my condition showed no signs of improving. I always felt worn out from caring for a sick person—mentally exhausted and physically depleted.
During several days of heavy rain in August, our apartment building lost power for one night. When I woke the next morning, I smelled something strange and foul, like rotting pork—sour and fishy, with an oddly sweet note.
I asked Tống Thuận Dương, who always slept in a separate room, but he said he couldn’t smell anything. I searched all over the house, and finally discovered that my wedding ring smelled awful.
I took off the ring to wash it, then went back to cleaning the house, drawing up designs, and preparing three meals. I forgot all about it.
Tống Thuận Dương slept until early evening and woke in fairly good spirits. He sat in the dim living room and drank a lot of water, then waved me over. When I reached to turn on the light, he shook his long, bony neck and told me not to.
I walked closer, and he immediately grabbed my right hand. The next second, he froze. “Where’s your ring?”
“Why aren’t you wearing your ring?”
It took me a few seconds to realize he meant my wedding ring. I was just about to explain when a resounding slap landed across my face.
The man’s bony, rigid fingers lashed across my cheek. His yellow, hard nails left five deep scratches, and blood welled up. He was like a vicious demon screaming in my face: “Why… aren’t you wearing the ring?!”
4
After screaming, Tống Thuận Dương fainted on the spot. The monitor attached to him began blaring an alarm, and my parents-in-law, who lived in the apartment downstairs, rushed up and helped get him into the ambulance.
Even after they took him into the emergency room, I was still dazed.
Outside the emergency room, my mother-in-law calmly reminded me, “It’s inevitable for married couples to argue, but remember, my son is sick. You should be patient with him.”
After we got married, my parents-in-law treated me very well. They sold their home and drained their assets to support us.
They even renovated the apartment my parents had left me: they installed a two-way air purifier that ran 24/7, bought an imported magnetic mattress for the bed, and insisted on using expensive bottled spring water even to wash vegetables.
They wouldn’t even let me eat takeout. The refrigerator was always stocked with fresh vegetables and beef.
After we’d talked for a while, my father-in-law suddenly asked, “Why aren’t you wearing your wedding ring anymore?”
“You’re supposed to wear your wedding ring. Thuận Dương loves you so much. You can’t hurt his feelings.”
I’d just forgotten. Could a ring really matter that much?
They told me to go home and rest, and to reflect on myself. They’d take care of things at the hospital. From beginning to end, no one asked about the injury on my face, or why I’d had to go to the hospital.
My heart was heavy with grievances, but I had no one to confide in. In a daze, I pushed open the door and stepped inside. Just then, a text appeared on my phone:
[XX Bank wishes you a happy birthday.]
So, as soon as midnight passed, I’d turned twenty-six.
The woman in the mirror had sallow skin, a gaunt face, and hair as dry as straw. Who would have guessed I was only twenty-six?
They had never considered me one of the family. Was this marriage really the right choice?
5
That night, Tống Thuận Dương was stabilized after emergency treatment. My parents-in-law took him back to their home to care for him and didn’t contact me. I didn’t reach out to ask after him, either.
After all, I hadn’t done anything wrong. I wasn’t Tống Thuận Dương’s slave. I could choose not to leave him, but I didn’t have to put up with his baseless tantrums.
Just then, an acquaintance who practiced traditional Chinese medicine recommended a new doctor to me—his student, who had just earned her doctorate and was very good at treating difficult illnesses. I immediately made an appointment.
The doctor who saw me was a young woman named Lộc Hà. She looked even younger than I was, with long, narrow eyes and smooth, fair skin. Hearing me come in, she didn’t look up. Instead, she said coldly, “The surgical clinic is out the door and to the left. And remember to get another rabies shot.”
I hurriedly explained why I’d come. She set down her pen and gestured for me to offer her my hand so she could take my pulse.
I placed my right hand on the silk cushion. She stared at my wrist for a few seconds, then asked, “Is your husband alive or dead?”
I froze. Of course he was still alive.
Lộc Hà replied calmly, “I’m not so sure about that.”
“It’s been two years, right? Your body’s getting weaker and weaker… You still haven’t noticed the stench?”
6
A cold sweat suddenly broke out all over me.
During the first three months of Tống Thuận Dương’s two-year illness, he remained in relatively normal condition. But after his heart suddenly stopped and he was admitted to the ICU, his body gradually weakened. His skin turned sallow and wrinkled, his hair fell out, he lost a severe amount of weight, and he had to use a wheelchair. Little by little, his fingertips and toes turned purplish-black. His whole body grew so gaunt he looked like a dried-up corpse, his skin clinging to his bones.
There was no cure for the illness. All he could do was lie at home and wait to die.
Many times, I thought he wouldn’t make it, but somehow he kept living for more than another year. He ate normally and had no trouble communicating.
As for the stench…
Hearing Lộc Hà say that, I suddenly remembered the air purifier at home, which ran around the clock. It had never stopped, except last night, when the power went out.
Worried, I asked her, “Could you just tell me plainly?”
Lộc Hà leisurely raised her eyes and held out her fair hand in front of me. “Your wedding ring is interesting. Take it off and let me have a look.”
I immediately took off the ring.
Lộc Hà took my wedding ring, lightly ran her fingers over it a few times, then turned it to the side with the engraving and showed it to me.
“A wedding ring shouldn’t be made like this. Your husband’s name is engraved on the outside, and your birth date and hour according to the Chinese zodiac are engraved on the inside. This should really be called a ‘corpse-wrapping ring.’ It uses one soul to nourish another, one body to nourish another. You’re nourishing someone who’s alive and well, so how could your own body stay healthy?”
“This ring is meant to keep him alive while you die. His fate is poor; the only way is for one life to be exchanged for another.”
“Your parents-in-law take such good care of you, don’t they?”
“Your birthday is in eleven days, right?”