His wife's novels had always been niche, because she always liked horror stories. In the past, she had written romance.

Like those "Domineering CEO, Little Fairy You're Mine, Don't Run!" types.

But,

perhaps it was postpartum depression that caused his wife to start leaning towards horror and supernatural themes in her creative direction.

However, his wife's problem wasn't serious. Her personality might have become slightly colder than before, and she became less willing to go out and didn't like interacting with strangers, but she was still enthusiastic and considerate to him and the children.

Holding a fountain pen,

writing one word at a time,

he just sat there, transcribing.

Actually,

at first,

his wife didn't quite understand his hobby.

Later, he explained that because they were her books and her stories, he could get closer to her heart by writing them down with a fountain pen and reading them.

His wife was very touched.

For writers,

this kind of sweet talk that doesn't cost money can be cleared out in bulk, but women seem to like it.

Therefore,

every time his wife had a new book published and he made time to transcribe it,

his wife liked to sit beside him, watching him, and if she was tired, she would lean on him, watching him transcribe, enjoying the feeling.

The nib of the pen kept writing one word after another on the paper.

He didn't look back,

nor did he look around,

because he already had the feeling that his wife was by his side, accompanying him.

His wife was by his side,

yes,

she was by his side.

In the living room,

the three corpses were still quietly placed on the sofa.

Upstairs,

the dead woman's husband (father)

was sitting in the study, writing with a fountain pen in a serious manner.

It was like a horror scene from a black and white film,

with an incomprehensible yet scalp-tingling chaotic logic,

a bit like performance art.

True performance art shouldn't examine its logic, but rather find the inner meaning that needs to be expressed in the chaos.

He didn't go to work today.

It was a holiday after the Mid-Autumn Festival, and the workers in the factory needed time to rest after working overtime these past few days.

Moreover, now that the busiest time had passed, the factory wouldn't be so busy for a while.

His father-in-law and mother-in-law had gone abroad for a trip. Because his wife's personality had become colder, she rarely took the initiative to communicate with them by calling, and his father-in-law and mother-in-law rarely came to disturb their lives.

As for his brother-in-law, the policeman,

he was so busy with work that he was practically "divorced,"

so naturally, he didn't have time to visit.

All day long,

he was transcribing,

transcribing very seriously,

writing every stroke extremely neatly, completely immersed in it.

All day long,

without eating or drinking,

he didn't even move from where he was sitting.

He just kept writing, writing,

writing until the sun went down,

writing until the moon rose,

writing from day to night…

He was numb.

He couldn't feel the passage of time. It seemed that only this non-stop transcribing could make him forget what he didn't want to remember, and only then could he feel the warmth and attachment he wanted to feel.

The most amazing thing was that

the fountain pen

didn't even need to be refilled with ink.

It was as if it could write endlessly.

The ink here

would never run out.

On the other hand, the palm of his hand, which was tightly gripping the fountain pen,

began to show protruding veins,

revealing the kind of state that the intern nurses loved the most.

"Hoo..."

By the second half of the night,

this horror story with a blood-red cover, *My Beloved Home*, was finally transcribed.

He leaned back, stretched, and felt a series of crisp sounds coming from his joints. He didn't seem to feel any physical fatigue, and mentally, he seemed even more excited.

"Creak!"

The bedroom door was pushed open,

revealing a huge dog's head.

It was an Alaskan Malamute.

They didn't

have a dog at home.

He remembered that when they first got married, he and his wife had raised a small Alaskan puppy, but later, because his wife was pregnant, the dog had to be given away.

After the two children slowly grew up, his wife, because of her personality change, couldn't muster much motivation to raise a dog, because a dog was also a life. Buying it and raising it at home, feeding, watering, and taking care of it, was no less than taking care of a child.

But in her heart, his wife still liked dogs.

In the book he had just transcribed, there was a dog, a fully grown Alaskan Malamute.

It liked to eat sausages, was very smart, could sit, shake hands, and could even take the children for walks.

The Alaskan Malamute walked in and put its head on his lap, gently nuzzling him.

He reached out

and stroked

the dog's head.

Then,

he slowly got up.

But the dog blocked him, not letting him out, looking up at him, drooling from its mouth. It was hungry, begging for food.

In his wife's story,

this dog was very cute, very sensible, very obedient.

It liked to eat sausages,

but what it really had to eat every day was not sausages or dog food,

but the fresh blood of living people.

In the story, every night, it would go out for a while to hunt for food.

It would go out to bite people, suck their blood, and then come back. People whose blood was sucked would only feel dizzy for a moment and a little listless, but they wouldn't have any other problems, and they wouldn't even realize what had just happened.

The amount of blood it sucked was actually the karmic debt on the target's body. If the person did little evil and few bad things, it would only suck a little bit. If it was a completely evil person, it could directly suck them to death. Of course, if it was a good person, it wouldn't find you at all.

He remembered that his wife had said that the Alaskan Malamute in her original manuscript wasn't like this at all. She wanted to write about a dog that would go out to find someone to suck blood from without anyone knowing, a demon outside and a well-behaved pet at home, a good playmate for the children.

That was the feeling she wanted, but in order to publish it and avoid policy reasons, she had to make such changes.

"Are you hungry?"

He pierced his palm with the fountain pen, watching the blood drip down.

But the Alaskan Malamute just shook its head, not interested in his blood.

"If you're hungry, go find something to eat."

He reached out and untied the leash on the Alaskan Malamute's neck.

The Alaskan Malamute wagged its tail happily and ran out.

Taking a deep breath,

he walked out of the study.

He hadn't been downstairs for a day and a night. He was still a little afraid to go downstairs,

even though

he had seen the dog.

Standing at the stairs, he hesitated for a long time and worried for a long time. He didn't dare to take the first step down.

Until,

he heard

the clear laughter of children coming from below.

"Hehehe... Brother... I want to eat... I want to eat too..."

"No, no... Mommy said eating too much candy will ruin your teeth... Sister isn't allowed to eat... Brother will eat it... I'll ruin my teeth for you..."

"Brother is bad... Mommy... Brother is too bad..."

The children were chasing each other below.

Although he and his wife often scolded their son to take care of his younger sister, the still-young brother often deliberately teased his sister.

Suddenly,

courage

arose in his heart.

He walked downstairs.

The children were chasing each other,

The younger sister couldn't catch up with her brother, stood there angrily, and ran to him as soon as she saw him, hugged his leg, and shouted:

"Daddy, brother is bad, spank his bottom!"

He reached out and touched his daughter's head.

Suddenly,

he really wanted to cry.

His nose started to tingle.

"I didn't, I didn't, Daddy, don't listen to Sister's nonsense. She finished her own candy and wants to eat mine."

The brother also ran over to explain quickly.

The children were gathered around him,

they were arguing,

they were complaining to him,

This feeling

wasn't annoying at all.

Instead, he found it very beautiful.

"Slap!"

His wife pushed open the kitchen door,

wearing an apron, she came out from inside,

leaning against the door frame, complaining a little dissatisfiedly:

"The nanny took a day off to go home today. I just made something simple, so just eat whatever. Your wife can't cook, you should have known that when you were chasing me."

"I'll definitely eat it all."

He said excitedly.

His wife smiled and urged, "Take the kids to wash their hands, it's time to eat."

He took the children to wash their hands. They went into the bathroom, and the two children were very well-behaved, lathering up and carefully scrubbing their little hands.

He looked at himself in the mirror.

His face was haggard, extremely tired, pale, and without much color.

He must be too tired. He had been extremely busy recently.

It seemed that

he needed to pay more attention to resting.

He brought the children out, and his wife had already set the table in the living room, and the whole family sat down.

"Where's Yolk?" the daughter asked.

Yolk was the name of the Alaskan Malamute.

"You need to eat, and Yolk needs to eat too. It's out looking for food," the wife said.

The daughter nodded. "I hope Yolk can eat its fill today and play with me tonight."

"You have to eat your fill too, so you have the strength to play with Yolk."

He took a bite of rice. The rice was a little overcooked, and there was a little too much water, but he found it particularly delicious, very fragrant and sweet.

He stood up, picked up the remote control on the coffee table, and turned on the TV.

The Tongcheng News was playing on TV.

"This station has just received news that in the evening, a woman was bitten to death by a large dog in front of a bank on the west section of Jianshe Road in Chongchuan District. The dog is now at large.

"The problem of walking dogs without a leash in the city is becoming more and more serious. This station calls on dog owners to raise dogs in a civilized manner and not cause trouble or harm to others. We hope this tragedy will not happen again.

"At the same time, we hope that the municipal government can strengthen the management and supervision in this area and improve the norms for urban pet management.

"It is reported that

"What is worth noting is that

"The woman who was bitten to death was a domestic helper, forty years old, and not a local from Tongcheng.

"The police investigated her ID card information and found that it did not match her identity.

"Now, the woman's real identity has been verified. She has multiple huge debt records under her name and was hiding from debt collectors and using someone else's ID card to register at a job agency.

"Before the accident,

"She had just returned from her job at a high-end villa complex..."

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