Jennie Yang had a dream.
She sat on the icy snow, the cold seeping through her pores, piercing her bones, wriggling through the cracks and coursing through her veins, freezing her blood into sharp icicles that pricked at the walls of her veins, causing pain with every movement.
She was enveloped by the vast night, surrounded by a silence broken only by the whooshing wind. She felt utterly alone, a loneliness emanating from deep within her soul, more terrifying than the biting cold.
A fierce-faced woman pushed her outside, locking the door behind her. Jennie cried and banged on the door, but it remained closed all night.
She crawled into a pile of firewood, seeking refuge from the cold, but instead, she fell into a bottomless black hole.
The nightmare jolted her awake, drenched in a cold sweat.
Staring at the ceiling, she recalled the details of her dream. The face of that fierce woman was elusive; she couldn’t remember her features, yet the fear was etched deeply into her veins.
It was her mother, the woman who had shown her the harsh realities of the world.
She blinked, banishing the remnants of the nightmare from her mind.
Then she remembered: Liu Tianshi was dead—murdered, to be precise.
Liu Tianshi’s parents had died ten years ago, and his son had passed away six months prior. She was the sole heir; the Fangzheng Group was now entirely hers.
Backed by a mountain of gold that now bore the Yang name, no one could take it from her, no one could drive her away. She should feel completely safe.
But the nightmare reminded her of the fear lurking in her heart—the inevitable had finally come.
Her attentive secretary, Ms. Huang, had prepared breakfast for her: a steaming bowl of millet porridge, a warm bun, and a dish of the cheapest pickled radishes from the supermarket.
Who would have guessed that Jennie Yang, the chairwoman of Fangzheng Group, ate a breakfast that cost less than five yuan?
The rising steam warmed her face, and the heat from the bun thawed the icicles in her veins.
Jennie ate while listening to Ms. Huang outline the day’s schedule. She canceled all appointments except for one: the auction at a fundraiser for the Little Angels Children’s Charity.
The Little Angels Children’s Charity, which Jennie had founded ten years ago, was dedicated to helping children with disabilities or severe illnesses by providing financial support for their medical care, rehabilitation, education, and training.
The sudden death of Liu Tianshi had shocked the business community and made national headlines. The entire country’s netizens were watching her every move, and everyone expected her to cancel her plans. But she chose to attend, providing excellent publicity for the charity.
She didn’t need to notify the media; there would naturally be those eager to spread the news for her.
When she arrived at the auction, the entrance was packed with media. Cameras and cellphones focused on her car, a BMW she had been driving for twelve years.
Years ago, a financial magazine interviewed her and made a note of her car, emphasizing in the report that she had been driving it for nearly a decade. Despite her wealth enabling her to change cars daily, she chose frugality and discretion, earning several thousand words of praise.
In truth, she didn’t change cars simply because she disliked the hassle. Familiar with every nook of her old car, she knew exactly how to adjust the seats for comfort, the best settings for the air conditioning, what was in the glove compartment, and how the car handled and accelerated.
She enjoyed the familiarity, the feeling of control—it made her feel safe.
Rubbing her eyes forcefully, she checked her appearance in the rearview mirror. Not red enough, she thought, and rubbed harder until tears formed, now properly reddened as if she had cried for days.
As soon as she stepped out of the car, the media flooded around her. With security’s help, she managed to enter the building, navigating through the crowd. She didn’t need to speak to the media; the less said, the better. Now a widow and bereft of her only child, she didn’t need to utter a word to garner sympathy.
At the auction, she donated two items: a pearl necklace of her own and an expensive gold watch that had belonged to Liu Tianshi.
She mentioned that Liu Tianshi had intended to attend the auction himself but unfortunately could not make it. Her voice choked up, her eyes reddened, and tears almost spilled over.
Wiping her eyes, she paused and pursed her lips as if struggling to suppress her sorrow before continuing that she was there not only on her behalf but also representing her husband, who had always encouraged her to devote herself to the children’s charity.
The auction was a success; both the necklace and the watch sold for ten times their value.
The final highlight of the auction was inviting several children who would benefit from the funds to come on stage. Jennie personally handed them cards displaying the donation amounts, and the children affectionately called her “Mommy Yang.”
She gently caressed each child’s head, drawing them close, her smile warm and inviting—a perfect image captured by the cameras.
Returning to the sanatorium at dusk, Jennie took off her high heels and the tight suit that clung to her body, changing into loose, comfortable pajamas and slippers. She lay on her soft bed, her body and mind slowly relaxing.
Ms. Huang’s suite was right next door. A simple press of a button on the wall allowed Jennie to speak to her, and with just a command, Ms. Huang would be at her beck and call.
This arrangement made Jennie feel secure.
She fell into a deep, dreamless sleep until a ringing phone woke her, annoying her deeply—she hated being disturbed while sleeping. Ms. Huang knew her routine well enough not to interrupt without urgent reason. It wouldn’t be her, nor would it be a subordinate, as they typically contacted Ms. Huang first to see if it was a convenient time to call.
Glancing at the caller ID, her expression turned icy. She hesitated for a moment before answering.
The other end was silent, seemingly waiting for her to speak first, but she knew who it was just from the breathing.
“Never contact me again if you want to stay alive,” she spat venomously before hanging up.
Staring at the phone for a while, she moved the number to her blacklist before setting the phone down.
What should have been a perfect day, her performance flawless, was spoiled by that call.
Her mood plummeted, overwhelmed by worries flooding her mind, making it hard to breathe.
Lighting a cigarette, she walked towards the balcony but stopped before drawing the curtains. Always cautious, she didn’t want to be seen in a moment of distress.
She sat on the bed, slowly exhaling smoke rings, imagining her troubles dissipating with the smoke.
Efficiency was key in everything she did, always on edge, demanding of herself to find a solution before finishing her cigarette.
The current dilemma was indeed thorny. Only when the cigarette burned her fingers did she snap back to reality.
Turn off the lights, go to sleep.
For a long time, she had developed a skill: never to sleep with unresolved issues. Regardless of the problem’s complexity, she had to have a solution before going to bed.
There were always more solutions than problems, of course. She wasn’t a god, and there were issues she couldn’t resolve. If she couldn’t solve a problem, she’d eliminate the person causing it.
With Liu Tianshi’s sudden demise, his shares in the corporation naturally passed to her, making her the largest shareholder.
Some were unhappy about this, scheming to dig up dirt on her. Rumors even circulated that some were investigating the possibility of a secret child of Liu Tianshi, hoping such a revelation would dilute her inheritance and rob her of this rare opportunity to wield power.
She would not allow anything or anyone to obstruct her path to power.
She had dedicated decades to Fangzheng, transforming it from a modest toy factory into a leading business empire. She wouldn’t claim all the credit but certainly played an undeniable role.
That highest seat rightfully belonged to her.
At the same time, in a secluded villa, Li Zizi finally shed her elegant disguise, reverting to her true self—free-spirited, unrestrained, and boisterous.
Li Zizi’s performance in bed greatly pleased Shen Kuo, who clung to her relentlessly until both were exhausted.
Li Zizi lay in her boyfriend’s arms, half-asleep, while Shen Kuo, still energized, relished his post-coital cigarette.
“Hey, the police won’t bother us again, right? Ah, for you, my reputation is completely shot. Those cops are such idiots. I’m so manly, so MAN, do I look like a transsexual? They actually believed it.”
Li Zizi, barely awake, hummed and hawed, too tired to open her eyes.
Shen Kuo continued, “What if the police find out we lied? We won’t end up in jail, right? Hey, what are those two up to anyway? Why would she find women for her husband? Was Liu Tianshi really a transsexual? Hey, tell me the truth, could he get it up when he was with you?” He laughed lewdly, noticing Li Zizi’s silence and gently nudging her arm.
Li Zizi turned irritably, muttering, “As long as there’s money to be had, who cares about the rest?” before falling back asleep.
Shen Kuo chuckled self-deprecatingly, looked around the luxurious room, and thought about living in such a mansion every day, laughing happily at the prospect.
The Lin Kun case had been a small, unremarkable one, without much media attention. In the U.S., dozens or even hundreds of unsolved cases accumulate each year, most of which gather dust in archives.
Long De had only stumbled upon it by chance, and thanks to his incredible memory, he remembered it when he saw the photos from the Liu Tianshi case. Otherwise, who knows how long that old case would have remained buried.
Translator: Not sure why but the author skipped chapter 10 and go straight for chapter 11 instead 🤷🏻♀️
