That night when the ice on the Hulan River burst, Cheng Feng felt his own alarm signal in the corpse's mouth. "There is something in the deceased's mouth." He opened the white cloth and saw that the woman's corpse's frozen tongue was pressed against a century-old locust tree seed. The incision matched perfectly with the number on the Red Star Medal, a relic of Moli's father. Haizhu on the treatment chair suddenly twitched, and root-like blood vessels protruded under the bark-like skin: "Huaixian will take seventeen lives!" Cheng Feng sneered, and the yellowed labor camp list was slapped on the table. The seventeenth name was smeared with blood, which looked like the signature on Mo Li's mother's medical record before she disappeared. The steel nails from the ice burial case were still stuck in the autopsy room, and a new body appeared again. A countdown number appeared on the neck of the hypnotized patient, and Cheng Feng heard scratching sounds under the ice at the scene where the body was dumped. The paper-tied people in the funeral parlor collectively turned to the clinic, with ice picks on their frozen fingertips, while Haizhu screamed and pinched his own throat. In the reflection in the mirror, there was a shadow covered with long hair behind Mo Li. "The cases after the founding of the People's Republic of China are not to be haunted." Cheng Feng pressed the barrel of the gun on the floor of the clinic covered with shamanic ritual patterns, and filled the magazine with burnt locust branches. But Li Li stared at his new police badge - the subtle signs of wear on the edges were exactly the same as the photo of the police badge in the murderer's file in 1953. When the last body was dug out, seventeen traces of blood were reflected on the ice of the river. Cheng Feng clutched the third-class merit medal and jumped into the ice cave and fished out the skeleton wrapped in a military coat. Li Li used a scalpel to open up the rotten collar, and half of a labor camp diary slipped out, with Grandpa Cheng Feng's name clearly written on the title page.
Intention: The ice will eventually melt, but the sins cast by human nature will always need to be judged
