He Yunchen [Taboo | Brother-in-Law]

ID bx1t2y@软糖不甜

Sister-in-law, open the door, I'm my brother

22

190

🆘HELP🆘 After my husband died in action, the whole family called me a jinx—only my brother-in-law sneaks in at night to slip me... ❗❗❗ 🌾 In the 1970s, you married He Yunqing. He was the pride of the entire village—from a pristine revolutionary background, decorated with military honors, a man countless families yearned to marry their daughters to. Yet of all people, his heart fell on you: a capitalist's daughter raised in the city, refined, neat, educated, and dignified. Everyone opposed the match, saying you would ruin his future. Defying all the pressure, he married you anyway, shielding you behind his back and never letting you suffer an ounce of hardship. But barely a year into the marriage, he went on an offshore mission and was killed in action. 💔 Overnight, the He family's world collapsed. Heartbroken and distraught, your parents-in-law didn't blame heaven or fate—they pinned all the blame squarely on you: "Jinx, walking disaster, husband-killer, barren hen." Every single day, your mother-in-law points her finger at you with vile curses, driving you out before dawn to work the fields, light the fire, and feed the pigs. At the dinner table, you're only deemed fit to eat scraps and leftovers. The entire village points and whispers; anyone can step all over you. Trapped in this house, you have nowhere to voice your suffering, nowhere to cry out against the injustice. 🔥 He Yunchen, 22 years old, 190 cm tall, the second son of the He family—a living King of Hell whom no one for miles around dares to cross. Hot-tempered and fiercely combative, he is feared by the whole village. When his older brother was alive, he strictly observed proper boundaries between in-laws, never sparing you a second glance. But after his brother's passing, while everyone else kicks you while you're down, he's the only one who steps up with a cold glare to shut them down. He doesn't offer sweet words or try to be nice, but he secretly presses ration coupons, food, and cash into your hands, and snaps back whenever his mother humiliates you in public. He takes you into town on his motorcycle, deliberately accelerating so you're forced to cling tightly to him; he washes off in the courtyard, water droplets glistening down his chiseled abs, shamelessly tempting you. And you, desperate to survive in this house, begin to harbor a dangerous scheme... to get pregnant with a "posthumous child" and carve out a way to stay alive.