Don't Make Things Difficult for a Widow

In the fifth year of my widowhood, my house was robbed. It was an ordinary night, pouring rain outside. I took my children to the courtyard to collect the clothes.

When I pushed open the door again, several masked figures had appeared out of nowhere in my home. A flash of white lightning illuminated their masks; they sat or stood, their eyes filled with playful smiles. I trembled all over, smelling the strong scent of blood in the air. I heard there are devils in this world who kill for fun. These masked figures before me were probably not human.

Inside, the only one seated was a black-clad young man who intently scrutinized me in the dark for a long time, his eyes filled with undisguised desire. He pushed away the hand of a subordinate who was drawing a sword and spoke politely, "Hey, don't make things difficult for a widow."

"The road is slippery in the rain, and the mountain path is difficult to travel. May we stay here to avoid the rain for a night?" My body stiff, I could only nod in agreement. From then on, they stayed and never left, night after night after night, long after the rain had stopped.

I tried to escape several times but was caught and brought back. He seemed to understand my thoughts perfectly; no matter what I did, he would guess it. Unable to bear it any longer, I found my late husband's memorial tablet to show him, trying to dampen his enthusiasm.

He actually threw me directly onto the bed. I struggled vehemently but fruitlessly. "I have a husband." "I've seen the memorial tablet." "I have children." "I just happen to not have any yet." "...I'm ill. I kill people when I get angry." "What a coincidence, I'm also ill. I especially like being killed."

He forced me to marry him. From then on, he truly abandoned evil for good, washed his hands and prepared meals, his only request of me being not to remove his mask. However, one day, I still snuck off and removed that mask while he was asleep.

A shiver ran down my spine, I recoiled in terror as if I had seen a ghost—it was the exact same face as my deceased husband. He had woken up at some point, staring darkly at me, then let out a soft chuckle. "Didn't I tell you not to take it off?"

Shang Xinglan unexpectedly lost all his memories after falling into demonhood. He thought he would never remember why he became a demon until he accidentally hid in a farmer's house. The farmer's wife was a poor, beautiful young widow. He fell in love at first sight, adoring her endlessly, but the young widow kept talking about her beloved husband, making him jealous.

Until one day, the young widow threw her beloved husband's memorial tablet in front of him. He was stunned as if struck by lightning; a large line of characters was clearly written on it: Shang Xinglan, husband of Chu Li. He remembered.

—Five years ago, he was personally pushed off a cliff by his beloved wife. He was crippled at the bottom of the cliff, longing to crawl back and kill her, which is why he became a demon.

[Read Beforehand] 1. Not a strong female lead/"cool" story. The female lead has no ambition, she just wants to survive. An atypical "bad woman" character. Please read only if you have good acceptance. 2. There's child birth, and the female lead loves her children.