Now that the child had been returned by Mr. Van, Liao Fang could finally leave with peace of mind. To be honest, she hadn't slept much all night while looking for the child, and now she was extremely tired. She stumbled into the elevator and pressed the close button, leaning her head against the wall, ready to rest for a while.
Suddenly, a scream filled with fear came from the seventeenth floor, making her shiver all over. Her head slid forward along the metal wall and hit the corner hard, instantly awakening her. She quickly changed the floor number and rushed to the seventeenth floor to check what had happened.
"What just happened? Is the child okay? Open the door for me, or I'll kick it down!" She knocked on the door, her extreme fatigue fueling her anger, making her attitude much rougher than before.
The door opened, and Mr. Xu helplessly waved his hand, "It's nothing, it's nothing. The child's mother slipped and fell while changing his clothes, and it hurts a lot."
Liao Fang stretched her neck to take a look and saw Xu Yiyang wrapped in a large towel, standing in a corner of the living room, while Mrs. Xu knelt in front of him, sweating profusely, her hair all wet, appearing to be in great pain.
"Be more careful. When the child went missing, you didn't seem to be worried, but when he falls, you're all in panic." Liao Fang glared disdainfully at Mr. Xu, then walked away with slow steps. The heavy security door closed hurriedly behind her.
Mr. Xu sat down against the door panel, his calm expression gradually twisting into a panic-stricken look; Mrs. Xu scraped the floor with her hands, moving herself back bit by bit. Her eye sockets seemed to be bursting, and her bulging eyeballs stared fixedly at the child's abdomen, as if she wanted to shift her gaze, but couldn't resist the immense fear and hopelessness. She couldn't even stand up because all her bones were shaking with fear.
Before this, they still clung to the last bit of luck - perhaps the child was not dead, and all those things before were just a hallucination. Otherwise, how could the child come back alive? But, when they lifted the child's clothes and saw the deep purple bruise imprinted on his chest and abdomen, as well as the bruises covering his body, all their fantasies were completely shattered! This was not a living child at all; it was a body that had been kicked and died from internal bleeding!
"Dead, dead, dead! Don't come here!" Mrs. Xu's face was covered with tears and mucus.
However, the little boy didn't listen to her instructions. Instead, he took two steps closer, almost occupying her entire field of vision with his eyes, which were wide open and staring right at her without blinking, and then slowly raised his arms.
Mr. Xu opened his mouth and let out a silent scream, then opened the security door and ran out without looking back.
The little boy stood by his mother's side, lifted his arms high, and looked at her with eager expectation.
Mrs. Xu trembled as if electrified, then pushed her son away, and ran into the bedroom, locking the door behind her.
The boy's expressionless face seemed even more numb, and the light in his pitch-black pupils gradually faded. He didn’t need a key; with a gentle twist, he broke the copper lock, walked smoothly into the bedroom, and stood by his mother's side, staring fixedly.
Faced with such a child, Mrs. Xu suddenly lost the courage to beat him; her fists dared not strike him, and her stick dared not lash out at him. She couldn’t even make eye contact, struggling with the torment. She scurried around the house, like a mouse driven by a crowd into the open, unable to find a safe corner. She could only cover her head with a blanket, cry, and call her husband, begging him to come back, or to take her away.
She had never known that the feeling of being abused and having nowhere to escape could be like this!
—
When there was chaos at the Xu's, things were also difficult for Song Wannuan over here. She felt that one of her paintings was not safe, so she quickly rushed back to the villa, found the problematic painting left by Yu Yuntian and had it scanned and restored at a specialized research institute. Luckily, the security company she hired was very efficient; they didn’t allow Yuntian to approach the villa gate after receiving her instructions. Otherwise, the evidence would already have been taken and destroyed by him.
After signing a confidentiality agreement, the institute conducted a comprehensive scan of these paintings, with the first to be scanned being the one referred to by Van Gaara as the "Fatal Arrow."
"This painting is smudged and chaotic, with overlapping oil colors that are indistinguishable, and only a rough outline can be seen. We need to use more sophisticated software to carefully outline it, which will take quite some time, probably eight to ten hours," a staff member pointed to the X-ray film showing a pile of jumbled colors.
"That's okay, I can wait as long as necessary. What about these few? Are they difficult to process?" Song Wannuan pointed to the other paintings in the scanning area.
"I'll look at the X-ray film first," the worker inserted the film into the light panel one by one and nodded, saying, "The outlines and colors of these oil paintings are very distinct, indicating that the artist's concealment technique has improved, which also facilitates our restoration work. Three hours should be enough."
"Great, thank you. Please do it as soon as possible. This matter cannot be delayed," Song Wannuan was filled with anxiety she couldn't suppress.
The staff member apparently sensed something and promptly promised to complete the task. So, just two and a half hours later, Song Wannuan received four relatively clear restored images. Each child in the images seemed like a lamb laid on the devil's altar, the ugly lines and color blocks pierced Song Wannuan's eyes and shattered her heart and stomach, causing her to hastily run into the bathroom and vomit profusely into the toilet.
She had been in a relationship with such a person for three years, and had lived and eaten with that person for more than seven hundred days and nights. How could she allow such dirty hands to touch her? Song Wannuan firmly closed her eyes and spat out bile.
Adhering to a policy of turning a blind eye and a deaf ear, the workers left after setting down the paintings.
It took a long time for Song Wannuan to stagger out of the bathroom. Her privately hired detective had already identified the identities of several children and was printing out a form, "This is the contact information for their guardians. Miss Song, should I talk to them or do you want to do it yourself?"
"I'll speak to them personally! Prepare the evidence packet; I must send it to their email," Song Wannuan pointed her finger at the list, then sequentially dialed the numbers. Some parents angrily rebuked her for talking nonsense after just a brief introduction; some patiently listened but dared not face the situation; some hung up in silence, their thoughts unknown; and some were just shocked, sobbing, repeatedly asking "how is it possible," without offering any substantial response.
Song Wannuan did not expect them to accept the brutal reality at once, so after hanging up the phone, she sent the evidence to them. She was waiting for the response of those guardians, because it was only through them that justice could be sought for the young children, and no one else had the right to file a lawsuit.
As time passed, Song Wannuan's heart sank little by little. Then, at that moment, the phone rang. She lunged for the desk and quickly picked up the phone, but the voice at the other end whispered, "Miss Song, I appreciate you informing us about this, but we also hope you won't cause any trouble. Several years have passed, and we have no evidence at all. Even if we file a lawsuit, it's no use. It will only make this matter public. He is a great artist, and we are ordinary people. What can we use to fight him? The child is young and won't remember anything. We are planning to take her for reparative surgery; she will be okay in the future, she will forget all this as time passes. Miss Song, I beg you, for the sake of the child, please don't force us anymore."
"No, I'm not forcing you..." Song Wannuan's words were interrupted by a beeping sound.
Immediately, another guardian called in, asking, "How much money are you planning to settle for? Let me tell you, without five million, I won't keep my mouth shut!"
"No, I've already broken up with Yu Yuntian. I called you to ask you to report to the police," Song Wannuan quickly explained.
"What? You broke up with Yu Yuntian? Are you trying to use me to attack him? I won't be your pawn; do you think I'm stupid? Give me Yu Yuntian's phone number, I'll talk to him!"
"I won't give you his phone number, shouldn't you be fighting for your child? She has suffered so much harm."
"What are we fighting for, just for a painting? As long as Yu Yuntian pays enough money, and he paints a few more, what then? Hey, why are you..." The phone was snatched away from him, and a frantic female voice said, "Miss Song, don't come after us for your boyfriend; we can't afford to provoke people like you. I will take the child to a place where no one can find her; please spare her!"
"Why do you have the right to take the child? She's my cash cow; do you know that..." This phone call ended in the sounds of a man and woman fighting, clearly indicating that the couple didn't see eye to eye, yet they both agreed not to call the police.
Song Wannuan stared at her phone, feeling desolate and bitter.
A while later, the third call came in, with the same sentiment: they were not going to report the case to the police because the child couldn’t withstand a second injury.
The last call came in around three or four in the morning, with a hoarse voice analyzing the situation calmly. "Miss Song, I consulted some legal professionals, and they said this case is old, with not much evidence left, and Yu Yuntian has a very strong background and good reputation. Our chances of winning the lawsuit are only 30%. Even if we win, he will at most serve a ten-year prison term, and he may even come out in 7-8 years by painting in jail and earning commendations. What's the point of that? If Yu Yuntian's arrest during the legal proceedings becomes public, my child will be exposed to public attention. My child will be exposed to my neighbors and relatives, and even my child's classmates will learn about what she endured. Can you imagine what kind of life she will have in the future? We can't ruin our child's life for an uncertain lawsuit. Miss Song, I am very grateful for informing us, but we are not going to report to the police or file a lawsuit. Please understand our feelings."
"I understand! Of course, I understand!" Song Wen warmly assured, but cold tears streamed down her face. She knew the mother's feelings as she spoke these words, she certainly loved her child, otherwise she wouldn't have gritted her teeth and swallowed blood. Society places far more blame on victims than on perpetrators, especially in cases like this. Even adult women collapse under public pressure and lengthy lawsuits, let alone children.
Perhaps what they need is not justice, not consolation, but forgetfulness and disappearance! Song Wen tightly held her hot phone, but her heart gradually cooled.
At this moment, her phone rang again. Song Da, who had previously refused to answer the call, replied personally, warning, "Song Wen, I heard that you are preparing to sue Yu Yuntian? What are you trying to do, make things difficult for Nini? Be honest, don't make a scene anymore! Nini has not been harmed. Can't you let go and let this matter pass? After messing around with Song Rui, have you also become a cold-blooded animal? By doing this, have you thought about Nini's feelings? Her dream is to be a dancer, she wants to stand on stage and be seen by the world, she cannot be connected to this ugly incident in any way! Let her go, can you? Consider it as your atonement for her. I will talk to Grandpa Yu, you don't need to interfere with anything! Be more careful when finding a boyfriend next time, don't bring just anyone home!"
"Are you all mistaken? Isn't Yu Yuntian the last person who should be let go? Why are all of you here to blame me one after the other?" Song Wen's voice trembled. "Did I do something wrong? None of you are suing him, wouldn't he harm more children in the future?"
"I can't control other people's children, I can only take care of my own. Song Wen, forget it, ask the parents of the victims, how many of them want to make a scene? You haven't been a parent, so you don't understand our feelings." Big Brother Song hung up the call icily.
Song Wen slammed her phone onto the ground, then picked up a stack of documents and slapped herself in the forehead, blaming herself: Are you wrong? Are your actions truly unforgivable? If you had a child, would you also choose to let go of that demon? Would you allow your child to experience a second hurt?
But she didn't have a child, so she couldn't find the answer. Her courage and indignation were all but gone in this torturous night. She didn't know if she could continue, if this so-called "right choice" was really correct. Why did everyone say she was wrong?
She didn't see the tender eyes and angry expression of the private investigator leaning over the table. He quietly left the lounge, went to the scanning area, and only returned after about one or two hours, holding a restored image and an investigation report.
"Miss Song, there's a breakthrough. Don't lose heart, I believe your efforts will yield good results in the end." The private investigator gently unfolded the image on the table. Unlike the previous ones, the child in the picture had a purely Western face and fiery red hair. According to the investigation, even though the painting was completed seven years ago, she had just turned thirteen this year, but had a history of depression for three years and had attempted suicide five times.
Her parents didn't understand why their seemingly normal child was depressed and often posted help-seeking messages on social media. Their most recent post, ins, was just yesterday, with only one sentence - [God, please save the child; please tell us what happened to her; please help her regain hope and live on courageously!]