Summary
My husband says I’ve been sick for three years, yet the calendar on the wall never turns.
Every day, Lu Yi’an tells me that today is August 17th, marking the third year of my “illness.” It wasn’t until I reached into a ventilation duct and found an old cell phone that I realized I wasn’t the one who was crazy. The date on the screen had already jumped to 2026. I wasn’t insane; the person who had kept me locked inside this “home” for exactly one thousand and ninety-five days was.