“They said I told them it felt ‘good,’ but the tape can’t capture the blood clot in my throat.” Late at night, Lin Wan crushes her diagnosis in her fist and rasps at her psychologist.
After being shattered in an alley at fifteen, Lin Wan falls into an even more desperate hell
Jiang Yu, who had protected her for fifteen years, throws the vile video filmed by her abuser in front of her:
“Filthy as you are, you still dare walk past my window?” That night, he planted a “bastard” inside her with his own hands. But when the DNA results were read in court, his pupils blew wide open: “The parent-child relationship is confirmed: Jiang Yu!” “**Don't save me... Go tell her... The idiot who climbed through the window and jumped into the snow back then...**... I killed him myself long ago, nailing him inside this window!” “The family-signature line on the abortion form was like an epitaph. My mother signed ‘Zhou Hui’ with a trembling hand, then crossed out ‘Grandmother.’” “The thing you wear on your chest isn’t a token. It’s a gravestone with a knife stuck in it. The hilt makes you hurt, but the blade is buried in Jiang Yu’s grave!” “The iron bars at the visitation window froze against my forehead: ‘Please... let his mother see the murderer just once...’” Lin Wan gives a soft laugh in front of the burning portrait of the boy. “Protector? He was the longest thorn beneath my skirt, piercing my womb. But when I crawled out of hell... he was also the only vine I could hold on to!”
