In the city of Nanjing, she was a nurse who rescued people from the ruins.
In the secret room of the French Concession, she was pushed up to a wall full of photos - "Song Rubi is dead. From today on, you are her."
On both sides of the corridor where the military commander stood, every glance was peeling her skin off. When Zhou Shichang first saw her, he said: "She has lost weight."
But she is not Song Rubi. She just has a face like hers. The scar on the middle finger of her right hand is her own.
Ninety days, nearly a hundred execution orders, two hot water bottles, and a letter with only two lines.
She lived under the name of another woman, but the scar was still there.
"I'm not Song Rubi."
"I am Shen Jing."
Reader comments
Who knows how powerful "I'm Not Song Rubi" is!
With an identical face and two lives that he couldn't control, Shen Jing's transformation from a fake substitute to his own game makes people feel numb.
There is no brainless excitement, it is all disguise and pulling on the tip of the knife. The double lines of real and fake agents are reversed and buried layer by layer. There are unexplored foreshadowings hidden in every chapter.
Zhou Shichang's chess players' layouts and death plans are pressing forward step by step. The suffocating feeling of misplaced identity lingers from beginning to end. After reading one chapter, I can't stop at all.
Who knows how powerful "I'm Not Song Rubi" is! With an identical face and two lives that he couldn't control, Shen Jing's transformation from a fake substitute to his own game makes people feel numb. There is no brainless excitement, it is all disguise and pulling on the tip of the knife. The double lines of real and fake agents are reversed and buried layer by layer. There are unexplored foreshadowings hidden in every chapter. Zhou Shichang's chess players' layouts and death plans are pressing forward step by step. The suffocating feeling of misplaced identity lingers from beginning to end. After reading one chapter, I can't stop at all.