After a night of silence, at daybreak, my soul was once again pulled to Fu Hanyi’s side.
He was sitting in the passenger seat, with his assistant, Zhou Zheng, driving the car.
Fu Hanyi’s eyes were closed as he leaned back against the seat.
I pressed myself against the car window, staring at him coldly. I do not understand why heaven would give such a cold-blooded man such a handsome face, let alone overwhelming wealth and supreme status.
Heaven is blind.
I, who have been kind my entire life, ended up dying a violent death, my very corpse left in an unknown place. Yet he, wicked and selfish, lives in comfort and ease.
The man resting was the picture of calm.
He showed no emotional fluctuation regarding my disappearance, as if I were nothing more than a complete stranger to him.
And yet, I died carrying his child.
Thinking of the baby, grief surged within me, and the way I looked at Fu Hanyi turned even more bitter and hateful.
Perhaps my resentment was too strong, as Fu Hanyi suddenly felt something; his eyes snapped open, and his body gave a slight, noticeable tremble. He turned his head slightly and looked toward me.
To be precise, he looked past my body and toward the street.
A faint change crossed his cold eyes. After a moment of hesitation, he spoke, "Stop the car!"
Zhou Zheng immediately pulled over to the side.
But Fu Hanyi didn’t get out; he continued to stare at the street.
I couldn't help but turn, following his gaze, and my expression froze in shock.
The person Fu Hanyi was looking at was my mother.
She was holding a brush, applying paste to a wall by the roadside.
What is she doing?
After a few strokes, Mom put down the brush and stuck an A4 sheet of paper onto the wall.
So, she was using rice paste.
But what was she posting?
I looked at the paper, and my heart was instantly pierced by a sharp pain.
What Mom was posting—was my photo!
It was in color.
In it, I was smiling like a flower, beautiful and vibrant.
Several passersby stopped to watch.
Mom held a stack of printed photos in her hand, likely dozens of them.
Seeing that she had drawn attention, Mom stopped posting and asked the crowd with eager desperation.
"Sir, have you seen this girl?"
"Miss, have you seen this girl?"
"Ma'am, have you seen her?" After asking several people, all of whom shook their heads at me, the hope in Mom’s eyes turned into sorrow, and her voice choked. "This is my daughter. She has been missing for six days.
She works at the hospital near here during the day. Ma'am, have you seen her?"
Only then did I realize this was near the hospital where I worked.
"I haven't." The woman shook her head. As a mother herself, she showed a trace of concern for mine. "It's been so many days—have you called the police?"
My mother’s lips trembled, and her eyes turned red in an instant.
Her gaze was helpless, sorrowful, and filled with a hidden, simmering rage.
Fu Hanyi refused to allow a criminal case to be opened, and the Wen family didn't care whether I lived or died. She had no other choice but to post my portrait in places I frequented, desperate to find even the smallest trace of a lead.
But Mom, the place where I met my end is not near the hospital. Even if someone recognized me, what clues could they possibly provide for you?
Watching Mom pick up the brush to apply more rice paste, seeing her helpless silhouette as she posted my photos, I felt a pain like ten thousand needles pricking at my heart, dense and suffocating.
The more it hurt, the deeper the hatred I felt for Fu Hanyi swelled within me.
Why did he stop the police from opening a criminal case?
I suddenly raised my hands in a rage, pounding against the car window. I truly wanted to ask this heartless man why he wouldn't let the police file it as a criminal case.
Clearly, if it were a criminal case, the police would solve it much faster, and their investigative focus would be different from a simple missing person’s report. They would soon find my body and follow the trail to the murderer.
Yet he insisted on obstructing them at every turn.
Why!
I opened my mouth, shouting silent, angry questions.
Fu Hanyi, naturally, could not feel my presence. He remained with his head turned, silently watching my mother, his expression incredibly cold, his eyes as deep and dark as a sunless sea, impossible to read.
Zhou Zheng also saw my mother posting my portrait. After hesitating, he finally whispered, "Mr. Fu, perhaps Miss Wen really has met with foul play..."
"A bitch has a long life; she isn't dead!"
Before Zhou Zheng could finish, Fu Hanyi interrupted him with cold certainty. His tone was so frigid it made my entire being shiver.
I am already dead!
Fu Hanyi, I am already dead!
The "bitch" you speak of is truly gone.
By what right do you assume I am alive and block the police from investigating?
I screamed, the anger in my chest nearly tearing my fragile, wing-like soul apart.
The helplessness and weakness of the poor were laid bare before this man who could blot out the sky with one hand.
"Who is this?"
Suddenly, a low, gravelly voice entered my ears.
My withered spirit jolted.
This voice—it was so familiar.
It was like...
I drifted toward my mother instantly.
A tall, burly man dressed in black stood beside her. His mouth and nose were covered by a mask, and he wore a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, casting them into shadow and making them look sinister and cold.
My heart seized, and my body trembled.
The murderer who killed me—it was these very eyes.
I would never forget this heartless, cruel gaze!
It is the murderer!
He had actually appeared.
Catch him!
I instinctively reached out to grab the man’s shoulder, but my hand merely passed through his body.
Only then did I remember: I am dead, nothing more than a soul without the power to touch.
But the killer’s appearance still filled me with agitation. I drifted to my mother’s side and said anxiously, "Mom, this is the one who killed me! Catch him, quickly, catch him!"
But Mom couldn't hear me at all. She was responding to the man: "This is my daughter. Sir, have you seen her?"
The man looked at my photo, his cap brim shading the coldness in his eyes. "I haven't. I just thought she was pretty. What happened to her?"
The man’s answer disappointed her, but she still replied politely: "She has been missing for six days. The police won't open a criminal case, saying they can't unless they find her body.
I have no other choice but to post her photos where she used to spend time, hoping a witness might provide a clue..."
Before Mom finished speaking, the man’s phone rang. He glanced at the unsaved number, then turned and walked away.
My mother, not expecting a stranger to offer any real leads, kept on babbling, brushing rice paste to stick up more photos.
I was as anxious as an ant on a hot pan.
Mom, the killer is right there! Posting more pictures is useless if you let him go!
But how could Mom know?
Filled with desperate urgency, I had no choice but to follow the killer.