Ji Ya lay in the car's backseat, her world reduced to darkness by a blindfold, her limbs bound tight. Shi Bi drove in complete silence, never taking his eyes off the empty road ahead. When the car finally stopped near a ditch in the middle of nowhere, Shi Bi yanked her out and pushed her down into the cold earth. She heard the car's engine fade into the distance as she struggled at the bottom. Working methodically, Ji Ya managed to slip off her blindfold and found sharp rocks to saw through her bonds. She ripped the tape from her mouth and screamed for help, her voice echoing in the emptiness. Each attempt to climb out ended with her sliding back down, dirt coating her clothes and skin.
The highway had been deserted until a truck's headlights cut through the darkness. A couple occupied the vehicle - the wife driving while her husband slept in the back. Ji Ya burst into the beam of their headlights, arms flailing desperately. The woman hit the brakes hard, the truck's tires screaming against the asphalt. Ji Ya stood frozen before them, arms raised high, eyes squeezed shut. Both husband and wife leaped from the cab.
"What were you thinking? You could've gotten yourself killed!" the woman yelled, still shaking.
Ji Ya collapsed to her knees. "Please," she begged, "help me."
At the police station, Ji Ya sat exhausted, her appearance telling its own story of the night's events.
"Did he give you any contact information?" the officer asked.
When Ji Ya nodded, they had her call Ji Dashun to set up a meeting. She dialed with trembling fingers.
Ji Dashun ignored the unknown number at first. Then a text appeared: "It's Ji Ya."
He called back immediately. "Brother Ji," she answered, her voice small.
"So you haven't forgotten me," he said with a dark laugh.
"How could I? You spoke up for me. I might not have made it home without you," she replied quietly.
"And how do you plan to show your gratitude?"
"Let me buy you dinner."
"I'll pick the spot." He hung up abruptly.
The night market pulsed with life around them. Ji Ya sat alone in a corner, conspicuous despite the crowds. Ji Dashun observed from a distance, scanning for any signs of trouble. As he approached, he noticed Ji Ya wouldn't meet his eyes. His instincts screamed danger. He slowed his pace, and when he was just meters away, three men emerged from the kitchen - their sharp gazes marking them as anything but waiters. Ji Dashun turned and ran the moment he recognized the trap. The men gave chase, but Ji Dashun knew these alleys like the back of his hand and vanished into the night.
"Deng Ligang knocked out two of my teeth with that slap," Ji Dashun told me later. "We fled to Shaanxi that very night. That lesson changed him - after that, he made sure we never left witnesses."
Song Hongyu proved to be a puzzle during interrogation, playing the role of perfect compliance. We got nowhere with her, and Deng Ligang, Shi Bi, and Ji Dashun all maintained she hadn't killed anyone. Their stories aligned perfectly - a coordinated effort to protect this mother. Without concrete evidence of murder, we had to build our case piece by piece.
But in her cell, Song Hongyu showed her true nature. Though assigned a small space at the far end of the crowded dormitory bunk, she claimed the prime spot at the head. When the cell leader tried to enforce the rules, Song Hongyu struck her across the face. As other inmates closed in to teach her respect, Song Hongyu sprang into their midst, every bit the predator beneath her facade.
"I've killed before and I'm not afraid to die. Anyone want to try me?" Her voice cut through the cell like a blade.
The cell leader stood frozen, stunned by the threat.
Song Hongyu's eyes swept across the room. "Step out of line, and you might not wake up tomorrow morning."
Seeing their leader's uncertainty, the other inmates retreated. Song Hongyu calmly arranged her pillow and closed her eyes. The guard spent the night wide awake, watching her every breath.
Each night before lights out, inmates had to sit cross-legged on their bunks for thirty minutes to contemplate their crimes. During these quiet moments, tears would stream down Song Hongyu's face as she thought about her son. Since his birth, they'd never been apart. Now she could only imagine him crying out for his mother.
The harsh fluorescent lights made sleep impossible. Song Hongyu lay there, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
"How many times have they questioned you?" A nearby inmate whispered. "When's your sentencing?"
Song Hongyu didn't respond.
"I'm in for fraud," the inmate continued. "My lawyer says since I wasn't the mastermind and it wasn't too serious, I'll probably get two years max."
"Do you have kids?" Song Hongyu asked suddenly.
"No," the inmate replied after a moment.
"My son and I... we've never been separated since he was born. I keep wondering how desperately he's searching for me."
"You've barely touched your food or water. Guards told us to keep an eye on you. They're worried you might take the 'short way out.'"
"Short way out?"
The inmate just looked at her, meaning clear.
"Suicide?" Song Hongyu let out a harsh laugh. "That would be too easy, don't you think?"
"If it were me, knowing I was facing execution anyway... might be easier to do it on my own terms."
Song Hongyu's expression hardened. "What makes you so sure I'll get the death penalty?"
"Well, didn't you just say you killed someone?"
"Courts need evidence," Song Hongyu said flatly. "Do you have any? If I told you I gave birth to an alien, could you produce it right here?"
The inmate turned away to sleep, unnerved by the cold emptiness in Song Hongyu's stare.
After her rescue, Qiu Feng had fled to Thailand. Now, with all four criminals in custody, she returned to China to visit family and testify. She arranged to meet Zhen Zhen at a coffee shop in the Qingtan Building.
Zhen Zhen arrived early and took the escalator down to the basement. The wooden cruise ship model still dominated the counter. She studied its details - a meter long, five decks high, with window frames delicate as toothpicks and tiny figures dotting the deck. Her hand found the smooth walnut in her pocket, and she shook her head with a bitter smile. Du Zhong, the craftsman who'd carved it, had drifted through her life like a ghost, never to return.
When the meeting time came, she found Qiu Feng already tucked away in a corner. Qiu Feng had filled out, carrying herself with quiet confidence. She barely recognized Zhen Zhen, who'd grown into a tall, graceful young woman. But any awkwardness vanished as they rushed to embrace, crying like sisters reunited.
Qiu Feng gripped Zhen Zhen's hand tight as they sat together.
"You look exactly the same. I knew you right away," Zhen Zhen said.
"But you've changed so much - you've grown half a head taller!"
"Seven years... how have you been?" Zhen Zhen asked softly.
"After they rescued me, I couldn't stay here - I was too scared. I went to Thailand as a worker, married a Chinese man there. We have two kids now, a boy and a girl. I only felt safe coming back after they caught everyone. The court needed my testimony, and I agreed. But I really came back to see you."
"I needed to see you too."
Qiu Feng smiled. "Funny, since we promised never to meet again seven years ago."
"We were both terrified then. But now they'll face justice. We don't have to be afraid anymore."
"Will all four of them be in court tomorrow?"
"Ji Dashun died last month. Cancer, in the prison hospital."
Qiu Feng stared intently at her friend. "Zhen Zhen, you're the closest thing to family I have. I wouldn't be alive if you hadn't risked everything to save me."
"Sister, we saved each other. If you hadn't helped me to that window, I never would've made it down from that height."
"I wasted over a decade of my life," Qiu Feng said. "My carelessness brought disaster on both of us."
"Everything has two sides," Zhen Zhen replied. "Without that horror, I wouldn't be a police officer now. I wouldn't have caught those murderers myself and stopped them from hurting anyone else."
They talked until darkness fell, then walked together under the streetlights. Zhen Zhen walked Qiu Feng to her hotel.
"Come up for a while?" Qiu Feng asked.
Zhen Zhen shook her head. "You need rest for tomorrow. Get some sleep."
The gallery was packed for the trial - Liu Liang and his wife, Qiu Feng, her brother, Ji Ya, Zhen Zhen with her parents, Huang Laoqi, and Zhang Ciyun all watched in tense silence.
The guards led in Deng Ligang, Shi Bi, and Song Hongyu in chains. Deng Ligang and Song Hongyu's eyes met briefly. Shi Bi just slumped in his seat, head bowed, like he'd already given up.
When Qiu Feng took the stand, her testimony came raw and unflinching.
"They kept me tied up the whole time," she said. "No sleep, no food, barely any water. If I didn't obey, Song Hongyu would pin me down and drive her elbow into my chest. She was too afraid of hurting her hands to punch me, so she used needles and spatulas instead."
Qiu Feng pulled back her hair, revealing a deep depression in her skull.
"Song Hongyu did this with a hammer. Every time it started to heal, she'd break it open again. When I bled, she'd grab my hair and hold my head under the tap. Once when I said the water was too cold, Deng Ligang kicked me and screamed that he'd boil me alive if I complained again."
Song Hongyu sat silent, staring at the floor.
Deng Ligang snapped his head up to glare at Qiu Feng. "We should have killed you when we had the chance!"
Qiu Feng stood straighter, drawing strength from Zhen Zhen's steady gaze.
"Justice always comes," she said, voice shaking. "Now I get to watch you pay for what you did."
"Killing them once isn't enough!" Qiu Feng's brother spat.
Huang Laoqi shot him a dark look.
"What are you staring at? Your family's just as bad!" Qiu Feng's brother snarled.
"Don't think this limp will stop me from beating you senseless," Huang Laoqi fired back.
"Let's take this outside then, old man, if you've got the nerve."
"Only a coward wouldn't show up."
The courtroom dissolved into shouting. Deng Ligang's lips curled into a small smile, satisfied by Huang Laoqi's rage.
Zhen Zhen pulled Huang Laoqi toward the exit. I followed them out. "I'll handle this."
I flagged down a taxi and handed the driver twenty yuan. As Huang Laoqi got in, he gave me an approving nod. "You're alright, Second Brother of Xinqiao. A man who keeps his word."
When I returned, Zhen Zhen was waiting by the courtroom door.
"Chief Peng, why do you let Huang Laoqi get away with so much?" Zhen Zhen asked, clearly frustrated.
"What do you mean?"
"He shows up at the station every few days asking for favors, and you always welcome him."
"If what he's asking doesn't cross any lines, I'll help. I owe him that much," I said. "Without his help back then, this case would've dragged on forever. He knew everything about the Deng family - their relatives, friends, classmates. He showed us who to talk to, gave us shortcuts. That's what moved the case forward."
Zhen Zhen went quiet, knowing I was right.
Qiu Feng sent a letter to the court: "In the Luancheng kidnapping case, Song Hongyu was just as guilty as Deng Ligang, Shi Bi, and Ji Dashun. Her crimes are countless and horrific. Following the principles of legal enforcement, thorough investigation, and evidence-based prosecution, I strongly urge the Xuecheng Intermediate People's Court to sentence Song Hongyu to death, with immediate execution. Let Liu Xingyuan and Huang Ying rest in peace! Let the victims find closure! Show us that justice still exists!!!"
Qiu Feng was preparing to leave Snow City without an answer. At the airport, she asked Zhen Zhen when they'd announce the verdict.
"We still haven't found some of the victims' families," Zhen Zhen explained. "We can't close the case yet."
"Will they execute Song Hongyu?"
"Without Huang Ying's family, we don't have enough proof."
"She confessed while we were captive," Qiu Feng insisted.
"She said that to scare us. It was just talk - there's no evidence she actually killed anyone."
"She has to die for what she did. Huang Ying deserves justice."
"No death is meaningless," Zhen Zhen said quietly. "But we need solid evidence - witness statements, physical proof. Otherwise, she might walk free."
Qiu Feng's face hardened. "Her claiming she never killed anyone is like me saying I've never eaten food."
"Sister, trust me. I won't stop looking for the victims' families. As long as I'm breathing, Song Hongyu will pay for what she did."
Qiu Feng studied Zhen Zhen's face for a long moment.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Zhen Zhen shifted uncomfortably.
Qiu Feng touched her hair gently. "You're beautiful. Don't any men notice?"
"That kidnapping... it broke something in me," Zhen Zhen said. "I'm still healing. It's hard for me to trust men enough to get close."
"What about someone you already know?"
Zhen Zhen just smiled.
"What's so funny?" Qiu Feng pressed.
"Must be something in my DNA. Every time a man shows interest, we end up just being friends," Zhen Zhen said.
"I'm talking about real feelings here, and you're going on about DNA?"
After Qiu Feng left, another man's face flickered through Zhen Zhen's thoughts. She found herself back at the Qingtan Building, riding the escalator down to the basement. The counter across from the elevator still held that massive wooden cruise ship model. This time, someone was sitting at the counter, his back to her. Zhen Zhen froze, just watching. The owner must have felt her presence - he turned around. It was Du Zhong.
"Looking for something special?" he asked warmly.
Zhen Zhen couldn't speak.
Du Zhong looked up at her, confused.
She managed a smile.
"Wait... are you...?"
"Yes."
His face brightened. "Zhen Zhen?"
"It's me," she nodded, still smiling.
"I can't believe it! When did you come back to Snow City?" His smile revealed perfect white teeth.
"You knew I left?"
"Your mother came looking for you here. Your classmate told her. Same one who told me your family moved away. Have you talked to her?"
She shook her head. "Did you make this ship?"
"Yes."
"How long did it take?"
"Three years. We read this old text in school, 'The Boat Carved from a Walnut Shell.' That's what gave me the idea."
Zhen Zhen pulled out a worn walnut from her pocket.
"Remember this?"
Du Zhong turned it over in his hands. "The carving's pretty rough. You kept it all this time?"
"Always carry it with me."
"Seven years," he said quietly.
"Yes."
"Where are you working now?"
"Police station."
Du Zhong's eyebrows shot up, but his phone cut through the moment. "Hello? What? Which hospital? I'm on my way."
He hung up. "I'm sorry, my son has a high fever."
He rushed to lock up the shop, then stopped and turned back.
"If you need anything, I'll be here," he said softly.
Zhen Zhen watched the elevator doors close, taking him away. She touched the walnut in her pocket one last time. After that day, she never returned to the shop, never let her eyes linger on the cruise ship model again.
The courts handed down their final judgment: death sentences for Deng Ligang and Shi Bi, life imprisonment for Song Hongyu. Despite their repeated appeals over five years, fighting through every level of the judicial system, the original verdicts stood firm.
Prison life had transformed Shi Bi. He'd grown plump, his skin had lightened, and somehow he'd acquired an almost gentle demeanor. When he heard the final verdict, he released a long breath. "I'm just taking up space here," he said. "Eating food that could feed others, sleeping in a bed someone else could use. Better to end it now."
"The press wants to talk to you," I told him. "Would you consider it?"
Shi Bi shook his head. "What's the point? There's nothing left to say. Let my life be the cautionary tale."
"Is there anything you want to tell me?" I asked.
He looked at me with an unexpected smile. "Let's be honest here. If you hadn't caught me five years ago, I would've kept killing. You stopped that. You stopped me."
"How do you feel about the rejected appeal?"
"These five extra years were already more than I deserved. I won't beg. I still have my pride. After everything, I'm ready. I'll face what's coming."
"Would you like to see anyone?"
"There's no one left for me in this world," he said quietly.
Song Hongyu took the news differently. She raged in her cell like a wounded animal, her fists raw from hitting the walls, her forehead bruised from ramming against them.
Deng Ligang sat still as stone when he heard. Even after five years, the guards couldn't read him. By some twist of fate, they'd arrested him on November 3, 2011, and now he would die on November 3, 2016. I remembered how he'd once told me three was his lucky number. Perhaps it was, in its own way.
The day before the execution, Huang Laoqi visited Deng Ligang, representing the families. Prison had bleached Deng's skin pale, though his hair remained stark black without a trace of gray. Huang Laoqi brought food and watched him eat. Gone was the arrogance he'd shown during interrogations.
His first words came out in a whisper: "I've been wronged."
Huang Laoqi met his gaze. "Wronged? I'm your cousin. I watched you grow up. You've never been good. Always using people, twisting words, taking what you wanted. Don't talk about being wronged. The government could execute you ten times over for the lives you've taken. You're only dying once. What right do you have to complain?"
Deng Ligang bowed his head, words failing him.
"Does the truth hurt?" Huang Laoqi asked.
Deng Ligang wiped his eyes with his hand. "Brother," he said quietly, "this is our last meeting in this life. How could I not be upset?"
"You've had it easy here. Your mother sends you two, three thousand yuan every month."
"I can't take care of her anymore."
"She's my aunt. I'll look after her."
Deng Ligang set down the sausage, his appetite gone. "I had a dream last night. I was in a foot massage parlor, and Peng Zhaolin was chasing me with a gun. I ran for the exit, but shutters kept coming down, turning everything black. The floor turned to mush under my feet. I could barely stand. Something kept pulling me down. I woke up gasping. You think it means something? Like everything's about to fall apart?"
Huang Laoqi let out a heavy breath. "Brother, tomorrow's your last day. What's left to interpret?"
The guard stepped in. "Time's up."
Huang Laoqi stood. "I'll be here tomorrow to see you off."
"Take care, brother," Deng Ligang said flatly, his face blank. "This is goodbye."
At the door, Huang Laoqi turned back. "Walk straight tomorrow. Keep your eyes forward."
Deng Ligang gave a slight nod.
That evening, when reporters came, he refused to speak to them.
In the women's prison, the guards assigned two people to watch Song Hongyu. They followed her everywhere. She understood what it meant.
"They're executing Deng Ligang, aren't they?" she asked a guard.
The guard just looked at her, silent.
"The appeal failed. We knew what would happen. You don't have to hide it. Just nod if it's true. We were married. Let me grieve for him," Song Hongyu said.
"Don't think too much," the guard said. "Focus on your work."
In the cell, while other inmates kept busy, Song Hongyu sat frozen.
She traced the character for "prisoner" on her bed over and over. "Why do they put 'person' inside four walls?" she mumbled.
Then she screamed, "I don't want these walls! I want out!"
A guard burst in, ordering her to quiet down. Song Hongyu's eyes were raw and red, but she fell silent.
As darkness settled over the prison, Deng Ligang sat alone with a creased photograph of his son. His eyes burned, but he refused to let the tears fall.
In her bunk, the cell leader spread playing cards across her thin mattress, reading fortunes. As she flipped each card, the deep lines in her forehead suddenly smoothed away. "I see it - great fortune! I'm getting out soon!"
The women crowded around her, each begging to know their fate.
In the corner, Song Hongyu curled into herself, her hair wild, tears running unchecked down her face. "Try to stay positive," another inmate whispered. "This pain won't last forever."
With nowhere to direct her rage, Song Hongyu grabbed the prison-issued notebook and began destroying it, methodically tearing each page into thin strips. The sound grated on a nearby fraud convict until she snapped, "Stop that noise!"
When Song Hongyu kept tearing, the woman lunged for the notebook. They grappled, hands at each other's throats until guards rushed in with handcuffs. Song Hongyu crumpled to the floor, her voice breaking as a guard knelt beside her, trying to calm her down.
"I lived for my debts," Song Hongyu choked out. "Then I had my son, and he became everything. I can't die. He'll be alone - no father, no mother."
Shi Bi prepared for bed with mechanical precision - jacket and pants folded perfectly beside his pillow. He slipped under his blanket and into sleep.
Guards peered through the observation window throughout the night. Deng Ligang sat cross-legged on his bed, still as stone, eyes fixed on the blank wall before him.
Outside, snow drifted down while the city carried on, oblivious.
I arrived at the execution ground early morning. Huang Laoqi was already there when they brought out the condemned. Shi Bi emerged first, squinting in the harsh light, chains rattling with each step. Four inmates wheeled out Deng Ligang, his head lolling, body slack in the chair.
"What happened to him?" I asked, startled by his condition.
The supervisor shrugged. "Strange. His fight just... disappeared. Can't even stand anymore."
"Some tough guy," Huang Laoqi spat. "Turned coward overnight."
After confirming their identities, the guards transferred them to the execution vehicle, securing them to the beds. The heart monitors told their stories - Shi Bi steady, Deng Ligang's heart racing. The lethal injection slid into their veins.
Both monitors flatlined. Their evil was finished.
The Biishui Garden dismemberment happened in 2002. Deng Ligang's execution came fourteen years later, in 2016. I'd gone from thirty to forty-four, youth to middle age.
Snow blanketed Snow City in white silence. Inside my warm apartment, Christmas cacti bloomed on the windowsill. It was Winter Solstice, and I stood in the kitchen, chopping meat at Cheng Guo's direction.
I heard my wife come home and walked to the kitchen doorway, a cleaver in each hand, straddling the threshold as I looked out.
Cheng Guo wheeled in a cart loaded with produce.
"What are you doing in there - chopping meat or destroying the cutting board?" she asked, eyebrows raised.
I set down the cleavers and helped her with the cart. "That's a lot of food."
"It's Winter Solstice. We're having dumplings, chicken soup, and I'm making braised fish."
"Didn't we just have dumplings? This is a lot of food for just us. Should I call some people from work?"
"Hold on - Zhen Zhen called. She's coming over. This is for her."
"She's back?"
"Yes."
Right on cue, the doorbell rang. Zhen Zhen and Qiao Zhi walked in, both beaming.
"Qiao Zhi! What a surprise! When did you get to Snow City? Why didn't you tell us you were coming?"
"We came straight here from the station," Qiao Zhi said.
Cheng Guo caught that "we" and shot Zhen Zhen a knowing look.
"I rearranged things to go with Zhen Zhen on her assignment," Qiao Zhi explained. "We searched everywhere until we found who she was looking for."
"Sit, sit," Cheng Guo said. "We can talk over food."
As dishes filled the table, Peng Cheng sat beside Zhen Zhen, constantly filling her teacher's bowl.
I took a drink of beer. "Tell us about your trip, Zhen Zhen."
"That silver bracelet Huang Ying left - it was handmade, the style and materials typical of ethnic minorities. After digging into it, I learned Dai women often wear these. So I went to Yunnan."
"I invited myself along," Qiao Zhi added. "We went to Dehong, in Yunnan. Asked around until we found their most famous silversmith."
He was over eighty, his face dark and lined with age. Zhen Zhen showed him the bracelet. One look and he said, "I made this. Made two of them, actually."
"Do you remember who bought them?" Zhen Zhen asked, keeping her voice steady despite her racing heart.
"Never sold them. Made them for a woman I loved, gave them to her myself. She married someone else in the end."
"What was her name?"
"Yan Xiang. Lived in a town ten miles from here. She passed last year - you're too late to meet her."
"Did she have children?"
"Yes."
Zhen Zhen and Qiao Zhi made their way to the town, asking directions as they went. They found a rose cake shop where a woman named Yu Jiao was working dough. When she heard someone was asking for her, she looked up. Zhen Zhen nearly cried out - the face before her was Huang Ying's, pulled straight from the police files, just softened by time.
Hands trembling, Zhen Zhen showed her the bracelet.
"Have you seen this before?"
Yu Jiao took it, her eyes widening. "This is my family's. Where did you get it?"
"You're certain it belongs to your family?"
Yu Jiao pushed up her sleeve, revealing its twin.
"My grandmother brought these when she married. When my sister and I turned eighteen, she gave us each one."
Zhen Zhen pulled up Huang Ying's photo on her phone. "Is this your sister?"
"That's her. Yu Man. We're twins."
"Yu Man became Huang Ying," Zhen Zhen said. "In 2002, she left Dehong with a Malaysian man. Your parents thought she'd married him, had children, lost touch. They never knew she'd been gone so long, or died so horribly."
"Yu Jiao came to Snow City three days later," Qiao Zhi said. "She's ready to help with the investigation."
"We should drink to that." I raised my glass.
Peng Cheng lifted his soda, joining the toast.
"We need to run DNA tests right away," I said. "If it matches the remains from Biishui Garden, Yu Jiao can file murder charges against Song Hongyu as next of kin."
"I've carried this weight for years," Zhen Zhen said. "Finally, I can let it go."
"Where are you from?" Cheng Guo asked Qiao Zhi.
"Chengde, in Hebei."
"First visit to Snow City?"
"Yes."
"Too cold for you?"
"The cold doesn't bother me."
"What do you think of our city?" I asked.
"I love it!"
"Why not transfer here then?"
Qiao Zhi's eyes flickered to Zhen Zhen. "Would Snow City want me?"
"Of course! We need talent like yours!"
Cheng Guo looked at Zhen Zhen, who just smiled, saying nothing.
In the prison, women hunched over their work - knitting, sewing buttons, embroidering - racing to meet their quotas. Song Hongyu sat with them, head bent over her knitting.
"Why do you work so hard?" the inmate next to her whispered. "Never even looking up."
"I'm trying to reform," Song Hongyu murmured. "Maybe they'll reduce my life sentence. Every year less is another year closer to seeing my son."
The iron door scraped open. A female guard stepped in. "Song Hongyu. Visitor."
Song Hongyu's head snapped up. "Who is it?"
The guard shook her head - no idea.
In the visiting room, Song Hongyu stared through the glass partition. Two women walked in. She recognized the first one - Zhen Zhen, the detective who'd arrested her. The woman she hated most in the world. The second woman was shorter, hidden behind Zhen Zhen, face obscured. As they reached the window, the shorter woman stepped forward. Song Hongyu felt ice in her veins. The woman was Huang Ying's mirror image, wearing the same clothes Huang Ying had worn the day she vanished.
Song Hongyu's tough exterior crumbled. She shook violently, her voice cracking. "No! That's impossible! You're dead!"
"I'm very much alive," Yu Jiao said quietly.
"You're dead! I flushed your flesh down the drain!" Song Hongyu screamed.
"The woman you killed wasn't me."
Song Hongyu lost control, her words tearing from her throat. "Still lying, you bitch! I killed you!"
The guard rushed in, pinning her arms.
"Finally, a confession," Zhen Zhen said. "This isn't Huang Ying - it's her twin sister, Yu Jiao. She's hired a lawyer and she's pressing murder charges. Your case is going back to court."
Song Hongyu's world spun, then went dark.
-End-
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