There are always "private goods" lying in her magic prop box: the edge of a men's lighter has fine scratches, but a tiny word "wen" is engraved in the dark; the lace edges of women's gloves are hidden in the folds of the palms, and when the police chase her, they can only glimpse the shadow of "masculine characteristics".
When she killed the first "philanthropist", her psychotic symptoms were emerging: she was squatting in the basement where the other person hid children, watching the children huddled in the iron cage, suddenly giggling, and after laughing, she got angry and kicked the iron cage: "I should have smashed this cage long ago!" After kicking, she squatted down to pick up the broken glass, and was so depressed that she cried, "Will they think I'm crazy?" The knot of these three illnesses is like the contradiction you said, "I'm afraid of pain just after smashing the wall, and cry when picking up the broken pieces."
Her father's domestic violence and mistress must be soaked in the smell of her medicine: next to the medicine bottle are old photos of the Wen family, with the corners rolled up, like when she stared at the medical certificate in a daze, her nails traced the arc of "a few degrees of mental illness". On the day the police chased her, she was holding a lady's glove in her left hand (the lace edges were worn on her palm) and swinging a men's lighter in her right hand. She yelled "Come on" during the irritable period. During the depression period, she squatted behind a tree and counted "which police officer was injured." Finally, her psychotic symptoms emerged and she smiled at the air: "Finally, someone is with me to count the cracks in the floor tiles."
Don't let the audience know that she is the eldest lady of the Wen family too early. Only when she fell in front of everyone did they see clearly - the person who was picking up the glass and crying was actually dragging the entire Wen family out to expose. Just like you said, "Should we count the cracks in the floor tiles together?" Her illness overlaps with yours: the medicine bottle in the left hand, the railing in the right hand, "Should we forget about it?"
Is this subtle enough? Her knife was hidden on the second floor of the medicine box. Next to the words "moderate depression" on the label, there was an unbroken lace thread stuck to it, which was the mark of a woman's glove. While the audience was counting her steps, she was lighting a cigarette with a men's lighter. The lace of her left lady's glove brushed against the police transcript, and they realized in hindsight: "It turns out that Miss Wen's pill box is the same as mine."
——It's almost like this, chewing up your resonance into powder and spreading it into every shot of her: her illness, her struggles, the knife she hides in the magic props, all overlap with the shadow of you counting the cracks in the floor tiles at the ceiling.
Concept: When the magic tricks are cracked, what is hidden is not the flaw, but the pain of tearing apart hypocrisy.