Chapter 179 Husband 16

Wen Hui sat on the sofa, thinking about it over and over again, but she really couldn't let go of her worries.

Lately, she's been experiencing inexplicable palpitations. It's as if things are going off the rails, heading off into an unknown and dangerous journey...

She didn't know what had caused these random thoughts. Perhaps it was Zheng Song's change that had caused her to become anxious and worried.

Wen Hui waited for a while. The study was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. She recalled the change in Zheng Song's expression before he left the study.

Even in the dim environment, one could still see his cheeks gradually turning pale and losing their color, and his limbs hanging slightly stiffly. The strangest thing was that he anxiously asked her if she liked him the moment before, and the next moment he pushed her out of the study... Wen Hui thought that with their current relationship, she could stay in the study with him. She liked to see him working seriously and didn't want to be separated from him for even a moment.

It was rare for Wen Hui to reveal her innermost emotions. She nervously played with her hair, which cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall. Her jet-black hair made her skin look white, and a teardrop mole dotted her eyes, adding a touch of softness and weakness.

It would have been fine if Zheng Song was working before, as he was too shy to show affection to her in front of outsiders, so Wen Hui would reduce the number of times she went to his studio... But now he is working from home, and she wants to be close to him and be in the same room with him. This is a very normal thought, as they are the closest couple.

Wen Hui thought silently.

She went to the bedside, picked up a book, and knocked on the study door: "Can I come in?"

No response.

Wen Hui bit her lip and said again: "Zheng Song? I want to go in."

Still no response.

Wen Hui was a little anxious. She thought that Zheng Song's face was not very good when she left, and when did he draw the curtains of the study? She patted the study door anxiously: "Zheng Song, Zheng Song, say something, what's wrong with you? Open the door..."

A layer of sweat broke out on her forehead. The key to the study was inside, and she couldn't open it from the outside. Zheng Song didn't respond. Could he have fainted inside? She was nervous and didn't know what to do. She looked around, looking for tools to break open the door.

Just then, the door opened.

Zheng Song's face was pale, his eyes bloodshot. He staggered forward, and Wen Hui quickly stepped forward, holding his waist to steady him. Wen Hui was thin. The Zheng Song she remembered was tall and thin, unlike the heavy, mountain-like figure he now was. She struggled to help Zheng Song to the bed in the bedroom.

Wen Hui half-knelt on the bed and touched his cheek: "What's wrong? You were fine before. Where does it hurt? I'll call and we'll go to the hospital..."

She fumbled for her phone, tears falling, wetting her eyelashes and clinging to them. She touched her face. Her fingers trembled, and she couldn't hold the phone steady.

Zheng Song raised his hand and held her wrist: "Don't cry yet, get me some cold medicine. I've been feeling groggy lately, I think I have a cold. Go quickly, I have a terrible headache."

His brows knitted together in pain, his face completely drained of color. Wen Hui didn't dare delay, and after preparing the potion, she placed it before his lips, holding Zheng Song's head. She waited for him to finish drinking it before wiping the spilled potion from his lips with a tissue.

Zheng Song lay in the quilt.

The temperature measured by the thermometer was just right. Wen Hui wondered anxiously if she had caught a cold while sleeping. The weather had been unusual lately. It was clearly the transition between summer and autumn, but the temperature inside the house was only around 10 degrees Celsius.

He looked uncomfortable, and she felt sad too, desperately wanting to do something to make him feel better.

Wen Hui lifted the quilt and lay down in it, rubbing her palms to warm them up, and gently pressed his solar plexus. Zheng Song raised his head comfortably, moved closer to Wen Hui, and buried himself in her arms. His tone was full of clear dependence: "Use it again, harder." He called her wife vaguely. Wen Hui raised the corners of her lips and her eyes were gentle.

Wen Hui slept with Zheng Song. When she woke up, Zheng Song looked at her straight in the eyes, and Wen Hui felt uneasy at the sight of him.

"What's wrong?"

Zheng Song's fingers touched her collarbone, which was covered with bruises and reds. His head was already aching, and now it felt like it was exploding. He suddenly tore the collar open with force. As the fabric crackled, Wen Hui couldn't help but tremble. She stepped back in fear and shame: "What are you doing? Did you sleep?" Her tone was still good, but her slightly trembling voice revealed her nervousness.

Wen Hui's strength was vastly different from his. Zheng Song used such force that the collar ripped, and a red mark instantly appeared on the back of her neck. Wen Hui's brow furrowed. Zheng Song grasped her wrist with one hand, holding her in a humiliating position on the bed, staring intently at her exposed body.

Zheng Song was actually somewhat pleased with his marriage to Wen Hui, but at the same time, he also looked down on her. He had a high degree and a good job, while Wen Hui only graduated from an ordinary university and didn't even have a decent job. However, she was beautiful and had no undue pride. After marrying her, he kept the house in perfect order, and he was willing to pamper her. Most importantly, men are visual creatures, and Wen Hui was beautiful in her daily life. She was even more beautiful without clothes, making him unable to take his eyes off her.

For example, at this moment. Wen Hui's eyes were filled with tears, like a bud about to bloom, wet by the rain. The tears in her eyes gave her a pitiful and bewitching look. She couldn't understand what had gone wrong with Zheng Song. She asked him to take her hand away, saying it hurt, but Zheng Song ignored her and held her hand, tearing at her nightgown.

In fact, Zheng Song was also so domineering at the beginning. Even if Wen Hui felt uncomfortable in her heart, she could only endure it. What else could she ask for? Zheng Song was already a very good partner. Even if she married someone else, how many would be like him, with good looks and a career, but with a slightly worse temper. It wasn't that bad after all, many of the men she met were like this, and there were many who were worse than him.

Wen Hui, who is immersed in love, had no idea that she would suffer from her husband's cold treatment and the picky nature of her in-laws after marriage. Wen Hui is not the type to complain. Her love for Zheng Song is enough to make her burn herself out without regrets, and take care of and maintain harmony with Zheng Song's family with care and tenderness. But what she didn't expect was... Zheng Song's sudden change made her fall into a dream. As she became more and more obsessed and didn't know why, was her dream going to be shattered?

Wen Hui shrank back, suddenly exposed to the air. Waves of chills spread from her arms to her entire body. Her face turned pale, her lips trembled, and she tried to push Zheng Song's arm away. His arm was as hard as a welding iron, and he suddenly pinched her waist, leaving a purple mark.

Wen Hui cried out in pain, "Zheng Song! What on earth do you want to do... Let me go!" Her eyes widened, tears welling up in her eyes. She said in a panic, "I don't want to now, I don't want to! Let me go..."

Zheng Song was stunned, his face dark as if a dark cloud had descended upon him. "Wen Hui, what do you think I'm going to do? Look at what you've done! Who is it, you and who! I work so hard to earn money to support you, not for you to have a secret meeting with someone behind my back!"

Veins popped out on his forehead, and the scars all over Wen Hui's body stung his eyes. He spoke without restraint: "...When I wanted to marry you, my mother tried to persuade me. I thought you were different from others, but it turns out there's no difference! Shameless, shameless, lewd, and wanton... I've had a terrible headache lately, like there's a stick stirring inside. Don't tell me it was me! Wen Hui, tell me the truth..."

Wen Hui was completely stunned and cried, "Zheng Song, how could you? What right do you have to scold me?"

At first, Wen Hui's crying sounded like the whimper of a kitten. Later, perhaps because Zheng Song's hand was too strong and it hurt her flesh, she really couldn't help crying, crying out loud, as if to cry out the inexplicable insult she had suffered.

Zheng Song suddenly let go.

Wen Hui broke free and burrowed under the quilt, covering her naked body. Muffled sobs emanated from her body. Her cries were weak and powerless, without any momentum, only endless grievances: "Zheng Song, you are sick, I hate you so much, why do you scold me, why do you say such harsh words?"

She sobbed.

The atmosphere in the room suddenly grew dull and oppressive. It was as if a thick scent was slowly filling the air. The faint smell of blood, combined with heavy, panting breaths, echoed in the silent room.

Where Wen Hui couldn't see, Zheng Song's body was slowly becoming strong and upright in a strange way. It seemed as if a living scarlet substance was growing from the soles of his feet and wriggling towards his body, until this shriveled and pale skin was stretched into the most suitable shape, and his pale cheeks were dyed with a healthy honey color.

He saw his wife hiding under the covers, her slight trembling betraying her anger and anxiety. He opened his mouth to speak, but remained silent. Even when he fell into a deep sleep, he still slept restlessly, wanting to return to his wife at all times. Unexpectedly, when he opened his eyes, he saw this scene before him -

Wen Hui huddled in her blankets like a wounded animal, her voice thick with tears. His chest felt as if it were being torn apart, a cold wind pouring in. The sticky substance surged uncontrollably toward Wen Hui, as if to replace the blanket and personally envelop his wife in its warm, moist flesh.

The forward movement suddenly stopped.

He picked up what Zheng Song had done in his mind -

At the door of the study.

Zheng Song leaned on Wen Hui's shoulder, and Wen Hui hugged him and supported him back to the bedroom.

Right here on this bed.

Wen Hui's face was gentle, concern hidden in her eyes. She pressed her hand against his forehead. Zheng Songhe nestled into her arms, and Wen Hui smiled and hugged him back. Their breaths mingled, and they fell asleep in an intimate embrace. Then, Zheng Song tore Wen Hui's nightgown, restrained her body with brutal force, and hurled vicious abuse at her...

His eyeballs gradually became covered with bloodshot.

The pain in the chest spread and even spread to the limbs. Even the flesh and blood squirming on the ground were infected by this dense pain and began to spasm uncontrollably.

Huihui, Huihui, Huihui, Huihui...

He shouted in his heart.

He was jealous, so jealous that he was almost going crazy. He wanted to wrap Wen Hui up at all costs and hide her in his flesh and blood.

He had to face the reality: Wen Hui and Zheng Song were husband and wife. Wen Hui was Zheng Song's wife, and he was an outsider. Everything he had done these days was just the treatment he could get by wearing Zheng Song's guise. If it weren't for Zheng Song, Wen Hui wouldn't even look at him, and would even run away in fear... He was a monster, a disgusting monster...

In an instant, the monster with Zheng Song's face became extremely terrifying.

The flesh on his face surged, tore, and healed at a speed too fast for the naked eye to grasp. If Wen Hui had lifted the quilt, she would have fainted instantly. The flesh and blood silently overflowed everything around Wen Hui, leaving only her space. He restrained himself and calmly kept his distance, his face sinister and terrifying, as if he wanted to destroy everything—

Huihui is not his wife.

Huihui is not his wife.

He clenched his fists.

At the same time, a huge wave of rage surged towards his face. Zheng Song's coercion and insults, Wen Hui's fear and grievances, played continuously in his mind. Wen Hui's crying filled his ears, and that cry seemed to penetrate into his flesh and blood, making every inch of his body tremble, entangled, and grief-stricken...

“Meihui, Meihui…”

He was wearing Zheng Song's skin, and his round, innocent cat-like eyes revealed deep jealousy and anger, like a ball of fire that made his exposed body - those squirming scarlet flesh - burn red, and the temperature in the room rose as a result.

Zheng Song is Wen Hui's husband.

He is not.

These words hit his heart like an axe.

Zheng Song, Zheng Song, Zheng Song!

Every time I recite this in my heart, my teeth start to chatter.

I wish I could eat their flesh and drink their blood...

Thinking of this, his expression suddenly changed.

As early as the beginning of his arrival, he devoured Zheng Song's flesh and blood. The skin he now wears is nothing more than a conjuration of his own flesh and blood based on Zheng Song's appearance. The remaining consciousness took advantage of his weakness to seize control of his body. In fact,

It was him who was with Huihui these days.

It's him.

Instead of Zheng Song.

Zheng Song is not worthy of Wen Hui at all!

His face once again showed familiar features, similar to Zheng Song's, but softer. He used an apologetic and pitying tone to clean up the mess for the owner of this face for the last time.

He gently touched the area of her shoulder outlined by the quilt: "Huihui, I'm crazy, I'm sick. I said that to you, I deserve to die. Don't be angry, it will make you sick. Wait for me at home for a while, and when I come back, you can punish me."

After saying that, he pushed the door and left without waiting for Wen Hui to react.

Zheng Song is not worthy of being Wen Hui's husband.

He has to do it.

He wants to occupy the position of Wen Hui's bedside man forever and ever.

No one can snatch it away, not even for a minute or a second.