Volume One, Chapter Seven: Memories of the Past

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After putting down my phone, I felt, once again, a profound sense of exhaustion. I stared blankly at the ceiling, where the hanging lamp resembled a pale, ghastly moon. There were tiny, shallow cuts on my hands, barely oozing blood, with some glass shards still embedded in the skin. I thought for a moment, then clenched my fists tight. Only pain could remind me that I was still alive in this world.

A rustling sound came from the doorway, followed by a sharp "click!" The cramped room was instantly plunged into darkness.

Yes, I have claustrophobia. I had once believed that after all these years, I had recovered, but it turned out it had only been lurking, waiting for the right moment to open its gaping, pitch-black maw and swallow me whole.

It is ironic, really. The person who pulled me out of that fear back then is my current wife, Su Qingya.

That was a long time ago. My family worked as hired help in a large villa, and I would often sneak into the elevator to read. One time, my father caught me. He beat me severely for being lazy. Terrified of being heard, I bit down on my wrist to stifle my cries.

"You little beast! Your mother and I are working ourselves to death for others, and here you are, finding such a comfortable place to slack off! Do you even deserve this?"

As soon as he finished, the elevator lights flickered out. I couldn't see a thing; I could only feel his fists raining down on me like a storm. By the time the elevator doors opened again, I could barely stand. My hands were covered in jagged, bloody teeth marks. After that incident, I could no longer ride elevators, and I began to lose the ability to tolerate dark, confined spaces. Otherwise, I would fall into uncontrollable panic and start screaming.

My parents could not tolerate me being even slightly different from other children. To "cure" my fear, they intentionally locked me in the basement or threw me into the elevator. When I emerged, pale and trembling, they would laugh, mocking me for how well I was "acting," before beating me again, depending on their mood.

Until one day, when I was locked in the basement again, it was pitch black. Just as I fell into that familiar state of frozen limbs