That night, Liu Qiang took a knife and slashed us 138 times.

　　The splatter of blood stained several walls in our home, and the smell of blood was so strong it made people nauseous.

　　He even felt unsatisfied and kicked our bodies a few times, like marking his territory, even urinating on us.

　　His wife, Tian Lili, seemed to be shocked and watched the entire attack without moving.

　　It was only when a neighbor heard the commotion and came to knock on the door asking questions that Tian Lili snapped out of it.

　　Her first reaction was not to call the police, but to help Liu Qiang stage the scene to make it appear as if our family had attacked first.

　　She handed a kitchen knife to my father, a wine bottle to me, and a hammer to my mother.

　　However, my mother held her hand tightly, unable to open it.

　　She exerted all her strength until she broke two fingers and revealed what was in her palm - a band-aid and a small bottle of antiseptic.

　　They were things my mother had just taken out of the medicine box to treat Tian Lili's domestic violence wounds.

　　My mother, being such a kind person, had helped Tian Lili by intervening when she came to our house with bruises on her face, afraid of getting beaten.

　　But every time, Tian Lili would cry and say she wanted a divorce, only to forgive her husband the next second.

　　They were on-again, off-again, and we became the villains in their marriage, until my whole family ended up dead.

　　Now, they still want to frame us.

　　Enormous resentment and unwillingness fill my heart.

　　The next second, I find myself back to the day they moved in.