“You’re really unlucky! Dying by hitting a pillar in my house—so what?” Lin Xiwei rolled her eyes at her.
Fu Cuilian pointed a finger at Lin Xiwei’s nose, stomped her feet, glared, and spat as she shouted:
“You killed my daughter! It’s you! You and that Wang woman are working together! My Yulan was played around by you two, and even in death she has to take the blame, boohoo!”
Lin Xiwei kept her mind clear and analyzed her words:
“Wait a minute—if you’re saying I killed Lin Yulan, where’s your evidence?”
Fu Cuilian’s crying suddenly stopped. A hint of confusion flashed in her eyes as she instinctively looked at Lin Haojie.
He didn’t speak, his eyes flickering.
Lin Xiwei pressed further: “Since you have no evidence, why are you here spewing accusations?”
Fu Cuilian seemed to suddenly remember something and added, “Oh, right! My Yulan died on your property. If it wasn’t you who killed her, then who?”
Lin Xiwei sharpened her retort like a needle: “Just because she died outside my house doesn’t mean I killed her. Last time, Fu Xinghan also died on our property—did that mean you killed him?”
Fu Cuilian was stumped. Her already not-so-bright mind was now twisted into a complete mess by Lin Xiwei’s words.
Lin Haojie cursed silently at the useless woman and had to step in to steer the conversation:
“The last time in the gallery basement, some items went missing. Later, Yulan told us the truth: it was you and Wang Ma who moved the goods, threatening her not to reveal the truth.”
At this point, Lin Haojie gave a subtle glance to his surrogate mother.
She understood immediately, and her short-circuited brain seemed to reconnect:
“That’s right! Yulan herself told us you and Wang Ma had threatened her. You promised her a reward if she kept quiet and threatened her if she didn’t cooperate.”
Lin Juying also chimed in from the side: “You had guns in your hands and threatened my sister. She couldn’t sleep at night and had nightmares every day.”
Fu Cuilian was completely manipulated by her son and daughter, carefully weaving the story as she lied:
“My poor Yulan! If she hadn’t muttered in her sleep for us to overhear, we wouldn’t even know things had gotten this serious!”
Mother and daughter clung to each other, wailing loudly.
The first floor of the Lin residence was already huge; their cries echoed and reverberated endlessly through the halls.
…
Lin Xiwei even had the leisure to make tea, serving it one by one to the two officers:
“Please, have a seat. Have some tea to quench your thirst.”
This embarrassed them a little. The lead officer cleared his throat awkwardly and took the teacup:
“Miss Lin, we’re here about the matter, not you personally. We mean no harm in our visit.”
They were the local law enforcement officers, well aware of the Lin family’s traditions and conduct.
The aroma of tea wafted gently—it was fine West Lake Longjing tea.
In this era of scarcity, drinking good tea was a luxury.
Seeing Lin Xiwei’s sincerity, the two officers naturally became more polite:
“Everything we do is in service of the people. We hope you can understand.”
Lin Xiwei graciously invited them to sit: “I understand. You have official duties—that’s human nature.”
She gave them enough respect; the rest, she didn’t care.
The officers now thought more highly of Lin Xiwei, their tone softening:
“Miss Lin, regarding what they’ve said, do you have any response?”
Lin Xiwei didn’t play the high-and-mighty card of ‘the innocent will be clear’; instead, she methodically dissected their claims:
“First, their claim that Wang Ma and I killed Lin Yulan is entirely false, with no evidence to support it.”
“Second, their claim that Lin Yulan died on Lin family property, and thus it was Lin family who killed her, doesn’t hold logically—look at Fu Xinghan’s death.”
“Third, their claim that Wang Ma and I moved the gallery basement goods also lacks evidence. Now they suddenly say Yulan was a witness, but the witness is dead—too convenient.”
“Fourth, Lin Yulan is dead. Everything she supposedly said is only the word of one family, and cannot be fully trusted.”
The two officers listened to Lin Xiwei’s careful, logical analysis and couldn’t help nodding repeatedly:
“Reasonable. There are far too many logical gaps here. A case must be judged based on evidence, not just someone shouting accusations.”
They were professionals. Even if they weren’t homicide detectives, they had handled all kinds of cases.
Fu Cuilian’s brain wasn’t exactly quick; she relied most on muddling through with shameless tantrums to win:
“Lin Xiwei, what nonsense are you babbling on about? A life for a life—that’s heaven’s law! My Yulan died in your house. If it wasn’t you, then who else but you and that Wang Ma?”
Lin Juying, by contrast, was much calmer. She understood.
Lin Haojie understood as well.
The two of them knew perfectly well that what they were doing was framing an innocent person.
As the real killer, Lin Juying couldn’t sit still anymore. She challenged Lin Xiwei sharply:
“Aren’t you just guessing here, flapping your gums? Tell me—do you have any solid evidence? Evidence that proves my sister wasn’t killed by you?”
“Easy.” Lin Xiwei remained composed, casting her a sidelong glance and smiling faintly.
“I have evidence. Enough to bring the real culprit to justice and clear our name.”
…
Fu Cuilian could no longer make a scene. Lin Haojie couldn’t force a smile.
Lin Juying, meanwhile, grew increasingly panicked, twisting her clothes tightly in her hands, all color draining from her face.
The two comrades sipped their fragrant tea at an unhurried pace, exchanging a look. There was clearly more to this.
These people had already come to the Lin residence several times to stir up trouble—obvious scoundrels.
This time, the two comrades were especially cautious, afraid of offending someone they shouldn’t.
Lin Xiwei, too, held her blue‑violet enamel cup painted with iris flowers, gently blowing away the tea foam. Her beautiful eyes lifted and lowered, taking in every expression.
She was waiting.
Waiting for the right moment.
Second by second, time dragged on. Fu Cuilian, Lin Haojie, and Lin Juying grew more and more restless.
Especially Lin Juying—she was losing control, her voice dry and trembling:
“What are you dragging this out for, huh? Lin Xiwei, what exactly are you playing at? If you’ve got evidence, hurry up and show it!”
Lin Xiwei’s rose‑colored lips parted, her smile subtle:
“What’s the rush? You’re not the real killer anyway…”
Lin Juying suddenly exploded, roaring, her eyes bulging:
“Who says I’m the killer? You—you’re slandering me!”
Her breakdown was abrupt and extreme. She sprang onto the sofa like a rabid dog in the middle of an attack:
“What damn evidence do you have? Lin Xiwei, who are you bluffing? You don’t have any—no evidence at all! The killer is you! It can only be you! It must be you! Hahaha—hahaha!”
Lin Haojie turned deathly pale, screaming inwardly:
“It’s over, it’s over! This crazy woman ruins everything! Lin Xiwei, Lin Xiwei—I really underestimated you. I thought with Lin Weixin not at home, I could just bring people over to scare you and get it done. I never imagined you’d be this hard to deal with…”
Judging the timing just right, Lin Xiwei stood up and called toward the stairwell behind her:
“Wang Ma, are they all washed?”
Everyone looked confused.
Then they heard—
“All the key evidence has been washed. I’m coming up now,” Wang Ma replied loudly and confidently.
Thud, thud, thud!
As Wang Ma’s footsteps drew closer, Lin Haojie’s face turned increasingly pale with terror, while Lin Juying bolted for the exit.
“Where do you think you’re going!” The two comrades were already prepared. One grabbed Lin Juying by the arm.
“Heh. You’re not the killer, are you? Then why run?”
The words came back to strike them again and again. Terrified, Lin Haojie turned to run as well.
The other comrade blocked his path with a cold smile:
“And you? Why are you running? Could it be that you’re the real killer?”
“No! No, no… I’m not!” Lin Haojie calmed himself instead—old fox that he was.
“I’m definitely not the killer. I swear on my mother’s life!”
Dragged into the oath by her stepson, Fu Cuilian stared blankly:
“What’s going on? You—you told me the killer was Lin Xiwei and Wang Ma!”
“Who said it was me and the young miss?!” Wang Ma strode in, a stack of freshly washed photographs in her hand. With a sharp motion, she scattered them across the snow‑white marble coffee table.
“Take a good look! This is the crime scene. The real killer isn’t us—it’s your precious daughter, Lin Juying!”
Lin Xiwei delivered the final blow without mercy:
“Heh. The second daughter smashed the eldest daughter to death with a rock. Fu Cuilian—does that make your life feel complete or not?”