SBCEJM -Chapter 60 Please… keep hitting me with the whip!

【Hmm… all of this is connected to his father who has already been dead for many years.】

A flicker of thought stirred in Feng Zexuan’s mind.

【Original family trauma?】

【Fast. Show me.】

The system didn’t respond. Instead, several silent images were directly projected into her mind.

In the first scene, a small boy was kneeling on the ground. His shoulder blades pushed up against his thin robe, several scrolls scattered before him.

It was the young Li Yanhua.

A man walked over holding a cane made of thorny branches, reeking of alcohol, his eyes bloodshot and filled with rage.

His father—a ruined scholar who had studied for decades yet never even passed the lowest imperial exam.

“Analects, Chapter Seven! Why can’t you recite it!”

The man roared. The whip-like branch cut through the air and lashed the boy’s back.

Smack!

Blood immediately bloomed across his skin.

The boy trembled, but clenched his teeth and straightened his spine even more.

“You won’t beg for mercy?”

The man’s fury was further ignited by that silence. The beating became more vicious.

“Who do you think you are? Born with pride?”

“I’ll tell you—you’re nothing but a worthless worm under my boot!”

Smack! Smack! Smack!

The boy’s body trembled in rhythm with each strike. Sweat soaked through his worn cloth shirt, gradually staining it with faint streaks of blood.

The scene shifted.

The boy held a meat bun, steam rising from it. Like offering a treasure, he handed it to the man.

“Father, I copied books for the Zhang household and earned ten coins. I bought this for you.”

The man snatched it, biting down greedily. Oil dripped from the corner of his mouth.

As he chewed, his eyes grew colder and colder. Suddenly, he slapped the boy across the face.

“You learned to earn money?”

“You think you’re better than me now?”

He smashed the remaining half of the bun onto the ground and crushed it under his foot.

Then he picked up the thorn whip from the corner.

“I’ll show you what you’re capable of!”

“I’ll teach you what it means to bring honor to the family!”

Again and again, he struck.

No matter what Li Yanhua did—right or wrong—what he received was always humiliation, degradation, and violence.

That thorn whip was the only “love” in his childhood.

Feng Zexuan’s consciousness returned to the rooftop. Her stomach churned violently.

【I… I get it…】

Her mind raced, piecing everything together.

【His logic is reversed?】

【His father beat him with a whip… and he interpreted that as love?】

【So he worked so hard to become a successful scholar not to rise in status… but to find someone who could become a new “father” and whip him? Someone who could give him that kind of “love”?】

【Correct.】

The system’s voice was flat.

【And that’s why Zhou Jingyi is the one he carefully selected as his “abuser.”】

【He slowly shattered her gentleness, trampled her dignity, and even personally killed their child…】

【All of it was to place that symbolic “whip of love” into her hands.】

【That poor child was the sacrifice… the token he offered to his own perverse desire.】

In the courtyard, Zhou Jingyi’s will collapsed completely.

The whip in her hand slipped from her fingers with a thud, falling into the dust.

The last pillar holding her upright broke along with it.

Her knees gave way and she collapsed, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Then—she laughed.

“Ha… hahahaha… hahahahaha…”

The laughter crawled out of her throat, broken and hoarse, like something scraped raw with sandpaper.

It grew louder, sharper, tearing through the night.

There was no joy in it—only madness and absolute despair.

Li Yanhua, meanwhile, stood there quietly, still savoring the situation.

The sound of the whip hitting the ground made him frown slightly in displeasure.

When Zhou Jingyi’s hysterical laughter erupted, he looked confused—like a child whose toy had suddenly broken.

He got up from the ground, his bloodied, mangled back exposed, and shuffled toward her.

He picked up the whip clumsily, yet with firm insistence, and tried to force it back into her hands.

“Jingyi.”

His voice was hoarse, urging.

“Stop messing around. Keep hitting me. Please.”

Zhou Jingyi’s laughter stopped abruptly.

She raised her head, her hollow eyes locking onto the man before her.

The man she had once loved—and hated.

So this… had all been a lie.

Her love, her hatred, their child, her suffering.

All of it… was just a tool for his twisted enjoyment.

A feeling colder and more nauseating than hatred rose from her empty body.

On the rooftop, Feng Zexuan grew anxious.

【Hit him?】

【Doesn’t that just make him enjoy it even more?】

【Wake up, woman!】

【For someone like him… you should break his legs and make him kneel in a pigsty for the rest of his life, begging pigs to step on him!】

【Let him understand what real suffering is!】

That thought—like a thunderclap—split through Zhou Jingyi’s chaotic mind.

She suddenly went still.

Right.

Beating him… only gives him pleasure.

Then she wouldn’t do that.

True revenge was not giving him what he wanted—but forcing him into what he didn’t want.

Zhou Jingyi looked at the whip in his hand. Her gaze slowly sharpened.

She did not take it.

She stood up, turned around, and walked toward the corner of the yard.

From a pile of firewood, she pulled out an axe used for chopping wood—its blade already slightly chipped.

When Li Yanhua saw the axe, his eyes lit up with excitement.

The whip was no longer enough for him.

He thought this was another “game,” an even more intense form of love from his wife.

He closed his eyes in blissful anticipation.

Zhou Jingyi dragged the axe back. The blade scraped against the ground, producing a harsh, grating sound.

She stopped in front of him.

Then she raised the axe high and brought it down—not the blade, but the thick back of it—aimed at his right knee.

With all her strength.

CRACK!

A sickening sound of bone breaking echoed through the night.

Li Yanhua’s face twisted instantly. Pure, unbearable pain forced a scream out of him.

“Aaaah—!”

This scream was nothing like before. It was raw terror and agony.

He collapsed completely, clutching his grotesquely bent leg, tears and mucus streaming down his face.

Pain.

Real pain.

Not the kind he desired.

Not the “love” he thought he wanted.

Just pure, unbearable suffering.

Before he could even recover—

CRACK!

Zhou Jingyi brought the axe down again on his other knee.

“Ahhhhhh!!”

She dropped the axe and looked down at him coldly.

Her voice was ice.

“Did my unborn child… feel the same kind of pain when he was eaten by pigs?”