The marinade mix has clearly been left for quite a while.

When I was still shocked, unsure if my eyes were playing tricks on me, I actually saw the mouth cut in half struggling to curl upwards.

I grabbed the basin and tossed it into the living room. The pieces of flesh rolled towards the water like balls, disappearing into it in the end.

I took a deep breath, leaning against the glass door in the kitchen.

It must have been an illusion just now. Otherwise, how could those things disappear in such shallow water?

Upon closer inspection, I confirmed that they were indeed gone. Instead, to my surprise, I noticed several cheerful fish swimming freely in the water.

"Darling, what's wrong? I was going to make hot pot tonight. How could you throw it away?"

I continued looking at the water's surface without acknowledging my wife's presence. I didn't realize when she had arrived beside me. Her voice was soft, tinged with a hint of grievance.

"What kind of hot pot were you planning to make?"

I impatiently retorted, still feeling the aftereffects of the scare I had just experienced. I still hadn't fully recovered.

"Obviously, a human flesh hot pot,"

My wife licked her lips after speaking, making a clicking sound with her tongue.

Just as I was beginning to recover, a chill ran down my spine.

When I turned my head, the first thing I noticed was her hand, still covered in blood.

Unconsciously, I swallowed in an attempt to ease my fear.

When I looked up again, she was less than ten centimeters away from me.

A pair of lifeless eyes stared at me. Apart from her hair, her face was covered in dark gray fish scales, enough to trigger my ichthyophobia.

"Ah..."

I screamed in terror, drenched in sweat. I was clammy all over as if I'd just taken a bath.

Looking around my location and then at the floor, I realized it was clean and devoid of anything.

It was all just a dream, though an incredibly scary one at that. Being a grown man, I was still scared out of my wits.

Shaking, I wiped the sweat from my face with my hand.

After lying in bed for a while, I finally got up. Whether it was the result of lying down for a while or not, the tiredness from earlier had dissipated entirely.

Feeling light and agile, I quickly straightened up and headed to the stall.

Arriving at the stall, I found my wife's clothes to be overly familiar. I racked my brain.

It was only then, after recalling the terrifying dream, that I unconsciously furrowed my brow, feeling a sense of repulsion.

"Why are you wearing this color? It makes you look old."

My wife glanced at her clothes on both sides, speaking with some confusion:

"But you said this color looked best on me. Why the change today?"

Perplexed, I realized that I had never said that. Since it was me who had supposedly said it, and she remembered it so clearly, I simply clamped my mouth shut. After all, it meant a great deal to my wife for her to have taken my words to heart.

However, the more I looked at the clothes, the more repulsive they seemed. It felt as if she might turn around and morph into that sticky fish head at any moment.

Even my throat began to itch.

I had to drink some water to suppress the revulsion I felt inside. But no matter what, I couldn't shake it off. I even began to turn pale.

"What's wrong? Why are you sweating so much again? Are you feeling unwell? You should go to the hospital."

As she spoke, my wife reached for a tissue to help wipe my sweat. However, the closer she got, the stronger the feeling of revulsion in my heart, causing me to vomit.

"Wife, go change your clothes. Don't wear this color again. It makes me sick."

After speaking, I slumped into a deck chair. I didn't even look at my wife to see how she reacted. I was sure she felt wronged.

But what could I do?

It was absurd that I would dislike a color of clothes because of a dream. Due to my distraction today, I packed up the stall early.