Three years have passed since I got married to Mao. I wanted to make a child for Mao as soon as possible, but time passed without it coming true, and I was impatient with the days when there was no progress. I consulted with Mr. Nabeta, the department manager, who I trusted the most about my troubles, but all I could do was boast that if I shot 100%, I would hit, and I felt irritated and jealous. Half a year later, I forgot my work documents and returned home. I heard the voices of my wife and Mr. Nabeta from the front door, so I immediately hid in the attic.
