This time, Fang Xiu woke up furious.
The pain from his st death had been unbearable. The agony of being eaten alive had shattered his nerves.
"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!"
He roared like a madman, his voice raw with rage.
"Honey, breakfast is ready."
His "wife" stepped into the room, smiling sweetly.
"EAT SHIT!"
"I’LL KILL YOU!"
"You can see me!"
"I SEE YOUR FUCKING FACE!"
Like a mb charging at a tiger, Fang Xiu lunged at her.
The outcome? Predictable.
He died. Horribly.
---
Fourth Attempt.
After his outburst, Fang Xiu finally calmed down.
This time, he kept his eyes shut.
If ignoring her was too hard, then he just wouldn’t look at all.
Maybe dying so many times had numbed his fear. He felt almost reckless now—like death was just a temporary setback.
"Honey, breakfast is ready."
He stayed still, eyes closed, pretending to sleep.
"Honey, still not awake? The sun’s up, zybones~"
Her voice was right beside his ear.
He could practically picture her—kneeling by the bed, chin resting on her palm, head tilted in mock exasperation. That beautiful, porcein face watching him with fake concern.
"Honey~ Aren’t you hungry?"
Fang Xiu didn’t move.
Because he knew the truth—
"Breakfast" wasn’t for him to eat.
He was the breakfast.
No way in hell was he getting up. Every time he did, she bit his head off.
Not exactly the "good morning" he wanted.
She tried a few more times, but when he didn’t respond, she fell silent.
"Did she leave?"
"Damn bitch walks like a ghost."
He didn’t dare open his eyes. He’d wait.
The room was dead silent. Only his own breathing and heartbeat filled the void.
Then he realized something—
If she really wanted to wake him, why didn’t she shake him?
Why just talk?
Could she not touch him unless he acknowledged her?
"Don’t let them know you can see."
The warning made more sense now.
He used the quiet to think.
What were they?
Who wrote the bloody words on the ceiling?
Why did they disappear when he saw them?
Why could he loop back after death?
Too little information.
He dug through the original Fang Xiu’s memories, searching for clues.
---
One Hour Later.
This was the longest he’d survived so far.
From the memories, this world was mostly the same as his old one—modern, urban.
Except for one thing:
Urban legends.
Ghost stories. Supernatural rumors.
Way too many of them.
"Is my wife… one of them?"
His bdder ached.
He had to pee.
But opening his eyes was risky.
He’d seen enough horror movies to know—
The moment you open your eyes, there’s a face staring back.
But holding it in wasn’t an option.
"Better piss in the trash can than wet the bed."
Slowly, agonizingly, he cracked one eye open—just a slit, peering through his shes.
Nothing.
No face. No monster. Just the ceiling.
He exhaled in relief.
Step one: clear.
Now, turning his head—
The bedside was empty.
No wife.
Encouraged, he sat up, stretching like he’d just woken up naturally.
He scanned the room through half-lidded eyes.
No one.
"She’s gone!"
But he couldn’t let his guard down. She might be outside.
Going to the bathroom was a death sentence.
Every horror movie victim dies on the toilet.
So he’d improvise.
The trash can would do.
Just as he shifted to stand—
"Honey, you’re awake~"
The voice came from **behind him.
His scalp prickled. His blood froze.
He whirled around—
And his heart stopped.
Embedded in the pillow—right where his head had been—was his wife’s face.
She smiled up at him, her expression tender, loving.
The rest of her body was submerged in the bed, as if the mattress were water.
She had been beneath him the whole time.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!"
Fang Xiu jumped, his scream tearing from his throat.
He’d been so careful—but he never expected this.
Had he been lying on top of her for two hours?!
The thought sent pure terror cwing up his spine.
Her lips curled wider.
"You can see me."
