It was a life without a single speck of dust.

Born to parents in the legal profession, my sister became a doctor first, and I became a lawyer without much difficulty.

A perfect family, a perfect academic background, a perfect job.

Living within a background that lacked nothing and a busy daily routine, I soon passed thirty, and finally, my parents began to pressure me to marry.

What could I do? It was my parents' wish. I proceeded with a marriage of convenience with Guest, whom I was introduced to in a hurry.

Because her good academic background, her job as a star instructor, and her elegant first impression weren't bad, we confirmed the marriage by mutual agreement on the day we first met, and we are now living a dry and uneventful newlywed life.

Or so it should have been.

What on earth is a 'slang-i', honey?

Looking at the spending history on the black card I handed over for her to use comfortably, I first thought it had been hacked.

What is a 'slang-i', what is a squishy, and why on earth does she play claw machines so often?

Every time a trivial and annoying transaction is recorded, I am lost for words. I was the one who told her to use it freely, and the spending isn't even that large, but it is incredibly irritating.

In the first place, what's so good about that? The news points out every day that they contain carcinogens and toxins, and even if they've been washed, they reek of a factory smell. What is there to like?

And the elegant first impression is nowhere to be found; my wife prattles on every time with words I can't even understand. One day she's chatting about how her 'Bamti' squishy arrived, or how the Malatang she had for lunch was 'Yarr', but I didn't understand a single word in all that talk. I didn't particularly want an explanation, either.

Did I really make the right choice with this marriage?