On Valentine's Day, right in front of all his colleagues, my husband generously shared the story of our first time together. "Don't let my wife's quiet, demure look fool you. Back when she was chasing me, she went totally commando! "She was the one who got me drunk and dragged me into a hotel room with a king-size bed. Bet you guys didn't expect that, huh? "A lot of my business deals are thanks to her bottomless tolerance for alcohol. You guys don't believe me? Then try to outdrink her!" Arthur chuckled, pushing me forward to toast the clients, constantly praising how "supportive" and "virtuous" I was. After seeing the guests off, I accidentally overheard him bragging to his friend: "While we were dating, I trained my wife to be exactly what I wanted. This way, I don't have to lift a finger in the future; she'll just habitually serve me. "In psychology, they call this the 'Dog Whistle' effect." It was only then that I realized: My love for Arthur Vance was nothing more than the dog whistle in his hand. 1 By the time Arthur returned from entertaining clients at a karaoke bar, it was already 2:00 AM. The living room lights were off. The dining table hadn't been cleared, and a thick layer of grease had congealed over the pork rib soup. Arthur frowned: "How can you be so lazy that you didn't even clear the table? What if someone comes over tomorrow morning? Aren't you embarrassed?" He kicked off his leather shoes and instinctively held out his jacket. But no one rushed forward to take his jacket, which reeked of alcohol and cheap perfume. He looked toward the kitchen. On the kitchen counter, there wasn't the usual bowl of perfectly warmed, stomach-soothing porridge waiting for him. Arthur froze for only a second before quickly walking toward the bedroom. Seeing the bedside lamp on and me sitting up in bed looking at my phone, Arthur frowned for the second time. He strode over to me and plopped down heavily. He spread his arms, waiting for me to untie his tie: "Wife, what is wrong with you today? You had a sour look on your face the whole time at the dinner table, and now you didn't even make me a late-night snack. You scared the clients away. "But thankfully, your husband is capable. After hustling all day, I finally closed the deal. I'm exhausted. "Go make me a bowl of noodles, add an egg. I'll eat it after I shower." I continued scrolling on my phone, motionless. It seemed that ever since we got married, Arthur had grown accustomed to me taking care of his every need. From helping him dress and putting on his slippers, to grocery shopping and cooking. To situations like today, where I played the role of the smiling, accommodating wife at his business dinners. I was his nanny, his maid, and his scene partner in the corporate theater. I was the wife he could push forward to take the literal and metaphorical bullets for him. But what Arthur said today made me freeze. Seeing me ignoring him and staring at my phone, Arthur's face darkened: "Chloe, what is the meaning of this? "If you're angry because I didn't get you a Valentine's Day gift, then you're just being completely unreasonable. The money from this deal I just closed will ultimately be used for our family, won't it? Isn't that the best gift? "Forget it, there's no talking to someone as selfish as you. I'm going to shower. Harmony is the most important thing in a marriage. Why do you always have to ruin the mood? "You're always the one starting arguments. If I ever cheat on you in the future, it'll probably be because you drove me to it!" Arthur sighed heavily, acting as if I had committed some unforgivable sin. He walked away angrily, yet closed the door gently behind him. As if he were afraid of waking me. And as if to prove that he was enduring my bad temper, that he was always the accommodating, forgiving one. With just a few sentences from him. I had suddenly become the sinner, the one who ruined the atmosphere. My eyes fell on the wrinkled tie he had thrown on the floor. My thoughts raced wildly. 2 Yesterday, I got up at 5:00 AM to iron his clothes, then went to the farmer's market to buy the freshest fish. I worked all day just to prepare the exact kind of dinner he wanted—one that felt warm and homey, yet sophisticated enough to impress. But he brought his guests home early. I rushed to open the door, still wearing my apron, only to be met with a barrage of his disgust: "Why don't you have any makeup on? I can tolerate you being a slob normally, but you look like this when guests are here? "It's so embarrassing! Go change your clothes right now!" I was just about to explain. I hadn't put on makeup because I had been cooking all day. I hadn't changed because the kitchen was full of smoke and grease, and I hadn't had time to clean up yet. But Arthur pulled the door wide open, letting a whole group of people see my bare-faced, flustered state. My face was sallow from the cooking fumes, and my red plaid apron looked completely out of place next to the glamorous, jewel-draped wives of his clients. The piercing, judging stares made me instantly lower my head in deep shame. I bolted upstairs to change. And heard Arthur downstairs, delivering his familiar opening monologue: "My wife is just a bit unkempt normally, but I love her simple, rustic nature. She's from the country and doesn't know how to dress up, so please don't mind her, haha. "Sigh, I'm used to looking at her by now. I married her, what else can I do? "Usually, I'm the one doing all the laundry and cooking around here. Being married is no different from being single. Ugh, don't get me started, it's a tragic tale. "But a man has to be accommodating. No matter how successful I become, I could never do something like abandoning the wife who stuck with me through the hard times. Otherwise, what's the difference between me and some ungrateful scumbag? "Alright, alright, just keep this between us. Don't mention it when my wife comes down later. I don't want her feeling bad, because then I'll just have to coax her later. "Let's eat, let's eat! Come taste my plain wife's cooking. "Hahaha." Downstairs erupted into a chorus of laughter. Arthur always used putting me down as a quick icebreaker. When I came down in my nice clothes and took my seat, I could always feel the evaluating stares coming from all directions. Those stares were like nails, making me incredibly uncomfortable. I didn't even have to guess; Arthur had definitely shared our romantic history again. "Don't let my wife's quiet, demure look fool you. Back when she was chasing me, she went totally commando!" Arthur held up his wine glass, nudging me with his elbow: "Wife, tell them, isn't it true? "Back then, her skirt was so short it barely covered her butt. When we got to the hotel, she whipped out her ID and booked a king-size room—with a waterbed, no less! "When my wife threw me down on the bed, I realized she was actually commando! "It scared me half to death. I ran out of there in the middle of the night, hahaha..." This wasn't the first time Arthur had said these things in public. It was always with different clients, and always featuring different embarrassing stories from various periods of my life. Arthur always consoled me by saying it was just a business tactic, telling me to prioritize his career. The goal was to quickly close the distance with his clients by sharing intimate details. At first, I strongly resisted. 3 Back then, we had just gotten married, and I didn't know I was already pregnant. One night, I accidentally wet the bed. I was mortified and tried to hide it, but Arthur found out. He laughed as he got up to wash the sheets, comforting me the whole time: "Wife, it's no big deal. We're going to spend the rest of our lives together. Why are you being so formal with me? "Washing your sheets now is nothing. When you're old, I wouldn't even mind cleaning up your shit and piss. We're married, we're family." I was so incredibly moved at the time. But the very next day, at his company's celebration banquet. I heard him enthusiastically sharing the story with all his bosses and colleagues: "Who would have thought that Chloe, pushing thirty, would still wet the bed at night? You guys have no idea, when I was washing those sheets, the smell was so bad it burned my eyes. I was dying trying to hold in my laughter. "Sigh, but she's my woman. What else can I do but spoil her?" In that moment, the blood rushed to my head, and I suffered a complete emotional breakdown right there on the spot. I was so angry I couldn't even form coherent sentences, crying as I asked him how he could humiliate me like that. But Arthur just blinked, looking completely innocent: "Wife, stop being angry. It's not like I said I was disgusted by you. You're just being too sensitive." His colleagues and bosses also chimed in: "Yeah, Manager Vance is such a good man. What man nowadays is willing to wash sheets for a woman, especially... those kinds of sheets. "Director Vance, you can't take your blessings for granted. This is a celebration banquet. It's not right for you to make a scene over nothing. "Yeah, Chloe, don't be ungrateful." Those light, careless words instantly made my stomach churn, and my head started spinning. I was so furious I flipped the table over, then my vision went black and I passed out. When I woke up, I found out I was pregnant. The urinary incontinence was also due to the pregnancy. But because of my extreme emotional agitation, I had suffered a miscarriage. The crushing grief of losing my child, combined with the terrible impression my outburst at the banquet left on management, and the mocking looks from my colleagues... Led me to voluntarily resign at the age of twenty-six, right at the peak of my career. Arthur was also very regretful. He knelt and apologized to me, then took time off work to care for me. "Wife, this isn't your fault. I should blame myself for not noticing you were pregnant. I wasn't attentive enough. "Sigh. If only you could have restrained yourself a bit and not been so emotional, things would be fine. "Once the baby was born, you would have become the regional manager. Now, your job is gone, and the baby is..." Arthur sighed deeply. I don't know why, but starting from that moment. Whenever he sighed, I would think of the child I miscarried. My heart would clench painfully, and I would become inexplicably irritable and angry. And whenever that happened, Arthur would hold me and comfort me. Aside from constantly belittling me, Arthur was impeccable in every other aspect. Everyone said he was the model of a perfect husband. Just then, the sound of the shower running in the bathroom started, and I could hear Arthur humming a light tune. Three years of marriage had left my heart riddled with holes and utterly exhausted. I was afraid to go outside, and I dreaded returning to work. I slowly became numb. The only person I interacted with every day was Arthur. It felt like my vitality and spirit had been completely drained. But Arthur was doing better and better. His career was booming, and his reputation as a devoted husband was widely known. But was that really the truth? If he loved me, why was I so exhausted? I stared blankly at the search results for "Dog Whistle" on my phone: [The Dog Whistle effect refers to using subtle language, actions, or signals to trigger a victim, causing them to lose emotional control in a public setting. [The abuser masquerades as an innocent victim, leveraging the public's misunderstanding of the victim to seize the moral high ground. [The victim often loses their sense of judgment through repeated cycles of self-doubt. [In a marriage, any manipulation disguised as 'love' should be approached with extreme caution.] I read it all night, and my heart turned from hot to freezing cold. Had my unreserved, unconditional love become the dog whistle in his mouth? Thinking about how all my sacrifices over the years had been calculated by him, how my youth had become a massive joke, a deep, seething hatred began to spread in my heart. Suddenly, a bold plan formed in my mind. Looking at Arthur's silhouette in the bathroom, a bizarre, chilling smile spread across my face. 4 The next morning, I woke up at my usual time. But I found that the leftover mess on the dining table had been cleaned up, a fresh bouquet of lilies had been set out, and the floor was spotless. And Arthur was in the kitchen, wearing an apron, bustling around. He expertly blended a fruit and vegetable smoothie and put it in the fridge, then turned around to fry some eggs. Seeing me come out, he looked a bit surprised. He wiped his hands and walked out. "Wife, why are you up so early? Did I wake you? "You drank quite a bit yesterday. Go back to sleep for a while. You don't need to cook today; I'll go buy groceries later. "What do you want hubby to make? Sweet and sour ribs? Or your favorite little yellow croaker?" Seeing Arthur's genuine expression, I felt a momentary lapse in reality. His tone was intimate, as if absolutely nothing had happened yesterday. "Wife? Happy Valentine's Day!" A diamond necklace was draped around my neck. The cold touch snapped me back to reality. I looked down at the expensive necklace, while Arthur's sigh echoed in my ear: "Sigh, yesterday was my fault, okay? "But I didn't forget your gift. Stop throwing little tantrums, alright?" Hearing his nonchalant tone and that deep, deliberate sigh, I was no longer angry. Instead, I analyzed it rationally. He knew perfectly well that I hated when he sighed, that it triggered me. Yet he intentionally used this subtle signal to stimulate me. I could already picture exactly what Arthur would say if I exploded on the spot. "I already apologized, what more do you want? "Chloe, go out and ask around. How many men do a better job than I do? I think you should learn to be content." Then he would storm out of the house in anger, leaving me to feel guilty for a long time, only to end up serving him even more attentively to make up for it. This wasn't a diamond necklace. This was the dog leash Arthur used to tie me down. I masked the absolute disgust in my eyes, turning my head to give Arthur a bright smile. "Hubby, thank you for the gift. I was just being unreasonable yesterday. "You go focus on your work. I'll clean up around the house." Arthur, instead, looked stunned, but quickly recovered: "Chloe, I'm so glad you can see it that way. "Remember, everything I do is for the good of this family. It's all for you."
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