"When the perfect victim puts on the mask of the perpetrator, every silent person is an accomplice in this hunt that spans eighteen years."
The night Wen Jin was locked in the dance studio, the hot ballet bar burned peacock tail feathers on her back. Twelve years later, she walked into an international kindergarten wearing a Van Cleef & Arpels four-leaf clover necklace. Her fingertips brushed Bai Yan's daughter's fetal hair: "Baby, do you know? The whole hell can be hidden in a bow."
Zhou Yanzhi, an upstart architect, covered the morgue with bloody architectural drawings: "To dissect evil spirits, you should use their own fangs." The 3D modeling pen he handed over was building a bloody trial court in the virtual space.
During the live broadcast of the charity dinner, Bai Yan's haute couture gown revealed burn marks; the heir to the Kwon Group drove drunk and smashed into a load-bearing wall filled with chemical formulas; and when the Education Bureau suddenly received a video of bullying twenty years ago, Wen Jin was rehearsing "Sleeping Beauty" with the children - this time the tip of the spindle was coated with hallucinogens.
