I died on the day when Bo Wangchuan hated me the most. He smashed my urn with his own hands, threw the powder into the cold rainstorm, turned around and hugged his beloved woman tenderly: 'Shen Tingli, this vicious woman, even her death is so disgusting, she deserves to have her bones crushed and ashes thrown away. ' He didn't know that my soul was floating half a meter above his head, calmly watching the muddy water swallow up my remaining bones. I was finally free, even if it cost me my soul. On the first seven days, in order to please Bai Yueguang, he forcibly ordered people to pry open the basement where I was imprisoned during my lifetime, and wanted to destroy all traces of me. But when he smashed the disguised load-bearing wall, an iron box stained with dried dark red blood fell out. There was no cursed doll in it, only a diagnosis of severe depression, a completed miscarriage report of the twins, and a tape recording Bai Yueguang pushing me down the stairs with his own hands. At that moment, the high-ranking tyrant of the Beijing Circle clutched the bloody paper with both hands, and wailed like a wild beast amid the mess on the ground. Later, the entire Beijing circle knew that Mr. Bo was crazy. He tortured those who had bullied me to death, kowtowed step by step to the top of Fanyin Mountain in the cold winter, broke his knees and begged the Taoist priests to gather my soul. But he didn't know that I was smiling as I watched my soul turn into little bits of starlight amidst his desperate roar, completely dissipating in the sky and earth, never to be seen again.
