Lin Meiying believed she had married well.
Their home was not extravagant, but it was warm. A clean apartment in a respectable neighborhood. Two floors. Enough space for laughter, for noise, for four growing children who filled every corner with life. Neighbors smiled when they passed them in the hallway. Teachers praised the family during school meetings. Relatives spoke with envy about how lucky she was.
Zhang Weiming was attentive in public. He held her hand when they walked together. He spoke gently to her parents. He never raised his voice outside the home. To everyone else, he was a devoted husband and a responsible father.
Inside the house, things were quieter.
Not violent. Not yet. Just quiet.
The children noticed things Lin Meiying tried not to.
Chen Feng, the eldest at fifteen, sensed tension even when no words were spoken. He watched his father's expressions more than he listened to his words. Zhang Weiming smiled often, but his eyes were always measuring, always calculating.
Chen Yue, fourteen, stayed close to her mother. She helped with chores without being asked. She learned early to move carefully, to avoid drawing attention.
Chen Hao, thirteen, spent most of his time silent. He liked corners. He liked books. He flinched when doors closed too loudly.
Chen Xin, the youngest at twelve, still tried to keep things light. She laughed easily. She told jokes at dinner. She believed smiles fixed things.
At first, nothing seemed wrong enough to name.
Zhang Weiming began coming home later. Not every night. Just enough to make excuses normal. Business dinners. Clients. Meetings that ran long. His phone stayed face down on the table. He stepped outside to take calls.
Lin Meiying told herself this was adulthood. Responsibility. Stress.
When she asked questions, he answered calmly. Too calmly.
"You worry too much," he said once, brushing past her. "I'm doing this for the family."
The children heard it. They learned to stay quiet.
His parents started visiting more often.
Zhang's mother inspected the house with sharp eyes. Dust on shelves. Clothes folded the wrong way. Meals judged without tasting. Zhang's father spoke little but watched everything.
They praised Lin Meiying in public. In private, they corrected her.
"You should manage the children better." "You spoil them too much." "A wife should know her place."
Lin Meiying smiled and apologized. She did not want conflict.
The children learned another lesson. Silence avoided punishment.
Then the rules began to change.
Curfews became strict. Small mistakes earned cold stares. Meals were served without conversation. Zhang Weiming stopped sitting at the table every night.
The house felt different.
Still, no one imagined how far it would go.
At night, Chen Feng lay awake listening to footsteps in the hallway. Chen Yue held her mother's hand longer than before. Chen Hao pressed his ear to the wall, counting breaths. Chen Xin whispered stories to herself so she would not cry.
They were still a family.
They did not know they were already trapped.