I even made her wear Song Lingyue's clothes and wander around the mansion at night. Shen Zhihuai couldn't distinguish reality from hallucinations. Terrified by me, he wept bitterly as his mental condition deteriorated further.
'Xingxing, save me!'
'I see your sister covered in blood visiting me every night!'
'I'm so scared! I'm so scared!'
I smiled: 'Oh, so you can feel fear too?'
I recorded Shen Zhihuai's madness and sent the footage to his parents. Soon after, he was admitted to a psychiatric hospital.
26
Devastated by the loss of his daughter, my father fell gravely ill. With failing health, he handed the company over to me.
On my inauguration day, a masked man suddenly lunged at me with sulfuric acid, but I dodged the attack. Pinned down by security guards, I recognized the assailant and laughed.
'Xiao Duo? You?'
Xiao Duo looked haggard and aged, a far cry from the elegant art teacher he used to be. His face contorted against the floor as he screamed: 'Song Lanxing! You deserve to die horribly!'
'How can you sleep at night after all the evil you've done?'
I pondered his words carefully.
'With a clear conscience - I sleep soundly every night!'
Xiao Duo received a three-year sentence for attempted assault. Shen Zhihuai, unable to bear his guilty conscience, cut his wrists and died shortly after entering the psychiatric hospital.
After taking over the Song Corporation, I soon transferred ownership, cashed out, and left. When my father learned I'd sold our family business built over two generations, he nearly died of a heart attack.
'How could you do this? How can you face the Song ancestors? How can you face me?'
I smiled: 'Father, Jiejie is dead. Brother-in-law committed suicide.'
'There's nothing left for us here.'
'Shouldn't you retirees enjoy your golden years?'
Though resentful, my aged father had to accept reality. I moved them abroad for retirement, buying separate homes for my parents and myself. We only met during holidays.
I never worked again. The money from selling the family business and wise investments sustained our comfortable lives. One might expect someone as wicked as me to suffer insomnia, but I slept soundly - never even dreaming of them.
I thought I'd face retribution.
Yet through my father's death, my mother's passing, until my own demise at eighty-eight - no punishment ever came. Closing my eyes for the last time, I murmured at the rising white light:
'So... the so-called cosmic justice and karma were all lies.'
If I could relive it... no, never again.
(The End)
