Jiang Shiyue walked in from outside and said to the secretary, “You’ve worked hard. Go get some rest.”
The young secretary looked as though she had been granted amnesty and hurried out.
Jiang Fu watched her nearly flee in panic and said helplessly, “Does my face say I eat people?”
Jiang Shiyue replied, “Maybe you should look in a mirror. It doesn’t say you eat people—but it’s not far off.”
“Sister Shiyue!”
Jiang Shiyue poured a cup of chrysanthemum tea and placed it in front of Jiang Fu. “You’ve been too tense lately. If Aunt Jiang saw you like this, how worried would she be?”
“….” Jiang Fu gripped the cup. There were traces of blood beneath her fingernails, and her fingertips still seemed to retain the sensation of tearing open human skin.
Her mother had once said that the impulse to torment someone comes from the fact that they have affected you. In this world, no one is worth seeking peace by torturing them.
And as someone in a position of power, one should never lose composure, restraint, or grace.
But she couldn’t control it.
Whenever she thought about those people stealing her mother’s body—for dissection, for slicing and research, for refining materials, or even being turned into specimens for collection or exhibition—she could not suppress the violence surging in her heart.
Whenever she saw anyone show the slightest disrespect toward her mother, she could not contain her anger.
Jiang Shiyue looked at her with concern. The current Jiang Fu was like a gas tank ready to explode. She could be like this for a time—but not forever.
She could make her subordinates fear her, even dread her—but that should be a method, not her nature. She must not become a madwoman herself.
Jiang Fu closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. She lifted the cup and took a sip. The slightly bitter, then sweet tea slid down her throat, and her emotions gradually eased.
When she opened her eyes, a small flame flickered at her fingertips. The blood on her hands was burned clean. By the time she raised her head again, she had already returned to her usual calm and composed demeanor.
Jiang Shiyue quietly let out a breath of relief.
Jiang Fu leaned back against the chair. “Minister Jiang, you didn’t come today just to remind me, did you?”
Jiang Shiyue smiled and adopted a businesslike tone. “No. There is something I need to report.”
Jiang Shiyue had been one of the first orphans her mother rescued. Even her name had been given by her mother.
There were many such rescued children. Most grew up in the Charity Orphanage and, upon reaching a certain age, were assigned work according to their abilities and interests.
Jiang Shiyue had no particular talent for combat, but she was patient and meticulous. So her mother arranged for her to stay by Jiang Fu’s side and take care of her daily life.
Five years ago, when the world transitioned from the Great Catastrophe Period into the Post-Apocalyptic Period, people began awakening supernatural abilities. Jiang Shiyue’s ability was not powerful, but she had a natural advantage in gathering intelligence. She was assigned to the base’s Intelligence Department, primarily responsible for collecting and organizing information for Jiang Fu.
Now, with Jiang Fu’s rise to power, Jiang Shiyue had naturally become deputy minister. Everyone knew that after two years of transition, she would unquestionably take the position of minister.
For someone this busy to report in person—
Jiang Fu immediately sat up straight.
As expected, Jiang Shiyue took out a report. “The water stains on the lid of the ice coffin have been analyzed. They are highly likely to be tears.”
“Tears?” Jiang Fu was startled.
She took the report and examined the data. The extracted residue contained electrolytes, proteins, and small amounts of inactivated enzymes—all components of tears.
So the intruder had cried while lying over her mother’s ice coffin?
That was very different from what she had imagined.
“We were unable to extract palm prints from the handprint on the coffin lid. The other party was very cautious and likely wore gloves.”
Jiang Fu: “…” Careful enough not to leave palm prints—yet left tear stains?
“In addition, we found several animal footprints. After analysis and comparison, they appear to be paw prints from a kitten approximately one to two months old.”
…So the person had brought a cat—and let it leave paw prints?
She looked up at Jiang Shiyue. Jiang Shiyue looked back at her. “Contradictory, right?”
Yes. Very contradictory.
The intruder had obtained the access code beforehand, avoided every surveillance camera, and left no trace or scent. Even after triggering the alarm, they managed to retreat unscathed. By then the research institute had been fully sealed. After Jiang Fu arrived, her spiritual power covered the area, and the military imposed layer upon layer of blockade.
Not only did they fail to stop the person—they hadn’t even found a single strand of hair.
Jiang Shiyue’s expression was grave. “This person knows the institute’s layout extremely well. Their strength is terrifying. They were fully prepared. Calm and cautious the entire way. Yet upon seeing Aunt Jiang’s body, they lost emotional control…”
The traces left in the secret chamber—if not deliberate—could only have been the result of emotional collapse.
Jiang Fu fell silent for a moment. “Could it be one of Mother’s old acquaintances? Or someone who once received her kindness?”
Jiang Shiyue shook her head. “I was with Aunt Jiang from the early days of the Great Catastrophe. Anyone who meets those conditions and possesses that level of strength—I would know.”
Jiang Fu rubbed the bracelet on her wrist thoughtfully.
The handprint was about the same size as hers. Judging by the height of the handwriting, the person’s height was similar to hers. Even the handwriting bore some resemblance. They moved through the institute as though returning home.
Even lying over the ice coffin and crying—she herself had done that many times.
That strange sense of déjà vu…
It was like seeing another version of herself.
She suddenly asked, “Mother wouldn’t have secretly had another daughter somewhere, would she?”
Jiang Shiyue, who had also been deep in thought, was stunned. “…What?”
Jiang Fu coughed lightly. She knew the guess was unreliable, but still—“There’s no way to extract DNA from the tears?”
Jiang Shiyue hesitated. “…We tried. It failed.”
Jiang Fu looked slightly disappointed. She set the report down on the desk and tapped it rhythmically.
Finally, she said, “Search the entire base for a woman of similar height to me who is carrying a kitten.” She paused. “Focus on the central district. She likely hasn’t gone far.”
Another pause. “Don’t make too much noise. If you find someone suspicious, do not act rashly. Inform me immediately.”
At that moment, her phone chimed.
It was her private phone. Only a handful of people knew the number.
She glanced at Jiang Shiyue, a premonition rising in her heart. She unlocked the screen.
As expected, a text message appeared—causing her pupils to contract.
[Do not kill Zhang Biao]
…
Central District First Hospital.
General Surgery Inpatient Ward.
Just past noon, the cleaners had mopped the floors with disinfectant. The entire corridor was filled with the sharp scent.
Jiang Fu, dressed in a gray trench coat and carrying a fruit basket, walked quietly down the hallway.
Passing room after room, she saw patients wrapped head to toe in bandages; patients with both legs suspended; patients with drainage tubes placed in their heads, sleeping; patients connected to numerous machines.
Medical supplies were scarce now. Those who could be hospitalized were almost all critically ill.
Yet at the single room at the end of the corridor, there was only one teenage boy inside—his injuries merely superficial.
Staff from the Charity Orphanage and community workers were there visiting him.
“Just focus on recovering. You won’t have to worry about your future.”
The boy’s head was wrapped in gauze. Leaning against the headboard, his eyes were filled with tears.
“Thank you, uncles and aunties… If I’d known, I would have asked for help earlier… My dad said if I dared to call the police, he’d break my legs…”
“Your dad has already been arrested. From now on, no one will hurt you again.”
The boy looked deeply moved. “My mom was right. She said that under Governor Jiang’s leadership, everyone in the base is a good person. She really admired Governor Jiang!”
The adults around him all showed even more wistful expressions. “Your mother was a good woman. It’s a pity…”
Their regret turned into sympathy for the boy. “The new base commander has said that you’ll be sent to the Charity Orphanage. Every child there receives excellent training. When you come of age, there’ll be professional assessments…”
Jiang Fu watched expressionlessly and raised her hand to knock three times on the door.
Everyone turned to look at her. “You are?”
Jiang Fu took out her credentials. “Deng Fang, Investigation Division under the Intelligence Department. There are still some details regarding this case that I need to clarify with the party involved. May I speak to the child alone for a few minutes?”
At this, their expressions grew serious. After offering the boy a few more soothing words, they left the room.
Jiang Fu closed the door, locked it, and walked to the bedside, looking at the boy lying there—Zhang Tong.
His entire forehead was wrapped in gauze, leaving only his face exposed. He looked rather delicate and refined—nothing about him suggested that in the future he would become a demon who raised his butcher’s knife against his own people.
Zhang Tong looked at her curiously and sweetly greeted, “Hello, big sister.”
Jiang Fu said nothing, simply stared at him.
Ever since the incident, every adult had looked at him with pity. Confronted for the first time with such a cold gaze, Zhang Tong shivered instinctively, sensing danger.
His expression changed. He edged backward and reached to press the call button by the bed.
Jiang Fu ignored the small movement. She set the fruit basket on the bedside table, took out an orange, and sat down on a stool to peel it. As she worked, she said lightly, “Those staff members just now need more training, don’t they? Otherwise, how would they not know that when government departments go out on duty, they almost never operate alone—especially for investigations. There are always at least two people. Otherwise, it’s an impostor.”
Zhang Tong’s fingers touched the call button, but no matter how hard he pressed, it wouldn’t go down. Hearing her words and seeing her overly calm expression, the hairs all over his body stood on end. He shrank toward the corner of the bed. “Who are you? I have nothing! I don’t know anything!”
The more he spoke, the more frightened he became, until he started screaming at the top of his lungs.
Unfortunately, no matter how loudly he screamed, the sound could not travel beyond the room.
Jiang Fu paid him no mind. With lowered eyes, she continued peeling the orange. Her long fingers moved with graceful ease, quickly removing the entire peel in one piece.
Yet what she revealed was not bright orange segments— but plump, dark brown, curled maggots.
Stimulated by the air, they began writhing one by one, burrowing about as though searching for something.
Zhang Tong stared in stunned horror, disgust and fear flooding him. He scrambled backward in panic, fell to the floor with a thud, and crawled away on all fours, ignoring the pain. “What is that? Who are you?! Help! Help!”
Jiang Fu gently stroked the worms. “I spent quite some time finding these. I fed them with resentment for an entire night before they grew this big.”
She looked at Zhang Tong and smiled. “See how much thought I put into this? For you, I didn’t sleep at all.”
Her smile made his scalp crawl. By now, Zhang Tong fully realized how terrifying the woman before him was.
He scrambled to his feet and lunged for the door. Gone was the weak and helpless act he’d shown before the staff—his movements were almost agile.
But Jiang Fu flicked her hand in his direction. The worms shot onto his body. Catching the scent of blood, they grew excited and crawled wildly—burrowing under the gauze, climbing onto his face, slipping into his mouth, ears, and nose…
Zhang Tong crashed to the ground, rolling desperately, trying to shake them off.
“Help! Ugh! Take them away—what is this?! Ugh! Aaaah!!!”
No matter how he struggled, the worms crawled into his mouth and wounds, quickly disappearing from sight. But he could feel them—writhing in his stomach, gnawing beneath his skin.
It hurt! It itched! It was disgusting! It was unbearable!
Zhang Tong completely broke down, rolling on the floor and wailing, clawing at his own body until it was covered in blood.
“Why?! Who are you?! Why are you torturing me like this?! Please, let me go!”
Jiang Fu stood up and looked down at him indifferently.
At this moment, Zhang Tong was filled with grievance. He truly could not understand why he was suffering such torment.
Kindly, Jiang Fu enlightened him. “You knew that your mother had long been abused by Zhang Biao.”
Zhang Tong froze, staring at her in disbelief. Just for that? Just for that she was torturing him?
“I was just a child! There was nothing I could do! My mom told me not to interfere…” His voice was thick with grievance. His mother had told him not to interfere—who was this person to meddle?
Jiang Fu continued, “You also knew that your mother was killed by Zhang Biao.”
Zhang Tong’s whole body trembled. He stared at her in shock.
“You simply didn’t care. A woman who could only do housework at home—if she was gone, then she was gone. After losing your mother, you couldn’t lose your father too, could you? So you pretended not to know. You walked in and out of the yard where your mother was buried, stepping over it again and again, without the slightest burden.”
Zhang Tong began shaking violently.
“Until Zhang Biao lost his punching bag and started taking it out on you. Only then did you realize how important a shield could be. Only then did you understand that having this father was worse than having none at all. So you deliberately let Zhang Biao injure you badly, covering yourself in wounds and blood. Then, at dawn, you ran out—ran straight to the Public Security Bureau, into full view of countless people.”
Drunkard or not, Zhang Biao was unlikely to go mad early in the morning. That timing had been designed by Zhang Tong—he had deliberately provoked him into a frenzy.
Zhang Tong stared at Jiang Fu as if she were a ghost. How did she know all this?
“You’ve been spying on me?”
Jiang Fu picked up the photo by the bedside—Zhang Tong and Chen Yinyu together. In the picture, the woman gazed at her son with gentle, loving eyes.
It was obvious the photo had been deliberately placed there by Zhang Tong to win sympathy. The soft, consoling voices of the staff earlier were proof of his success.
“You succeeded. Zhang Biao was arrested and swiftly executed. And you—relying on your young age, your tragic background, your parents’ deaths—won a great deal of sympathy. Most importantly, your mother’s death was connected to the former governor. The new governor was moved by it, and transferred the faint grief and guilt he felt toward your mother onto you.”
“You looked on coldly at your mother’s miserable fate. In fact, your entire life was built upon her suffering. Yet after her death, you stepped calmly on her blood and bones and secured a starting point higher than others.”
“However, that sympathy didn’t help as much as you imagined. You still had to compete with others. You still had to prove your worth through one dangerous mission after another to earn the favor of those in power.”
“You began to resent it. You believed your mother died because of the former governor, so you should have been granted the highest privileges. You also thought that without your father—without someone to lift you up—you wouldn’t have fallen to such a state. You convinced yourself you were the most pitiful person in the world.”
“Gradually, you completely forgot your mother’s pain. Your father’s image in your mind grew more and more idealized by the day. You hated those who handled the case, believing they had conspired to kill your father. You believed your parents’ deaths were entirely the fault of those in power. You redirected all your hatred onto her, and told yourself that everything you endured in humiliation was for the sake of revenge.”
These confessions were all spoken by Zhang Tong himself when he killed Han Xiaofei.
Perhaps after years of self-hypnosis, even he had come to believe it. At the time, his expression had been painfully sincere, so convincing and anguished that he moved himself to tears.
Jiang Fu set down the photograph and studied the bewildered face of the boy before her, searching it for the twisted frenzy he had once worn when he thought his great vengeance fulfilled.
Soon, she stopped forcing herself.
She would not forgive him or let him go just because he was still a child now, because those things had not yet happened.
If forgiveness came that easily, then what of the people who had died at Zhang Tong’s hands? What of those fifty years of suffering? Did that mean they deserved it?
Still, facing this young, confused face felt unfamiliar.
She looked at Zhang Tong and said, “I’m more used to the way you looked standing before my bronze statue—so defiant and unruly. How old were you then? Seventy, wasn’t it?”
She raised a finger and pointed at him. Resentment surged from her hand. The hospital room instantly felt as though dry ice had been scattered through it—mist billowed, and the temperature plummeted.
The worms inside Zhang Tong’s body began writhing madly again, and he let out another scream.
Amid the shrieks, Jiang Fu’s calm voice rang out. Every word carried a strange cadence, like a wandering wind rising from the depths of an ancient abyss.
“I curse you, Zhang Tong! At the cost of the vitality you have left in this life, your head and face shall rapidly age to the appearance of seventy years. You will gain fragments of the boundless glory that awaits you in the future—but you will never be able to speak of it. You will be tormented to madness by the contrast between the success in your memories and the bleakness of your reality—yet you will never truly lose your sanity. Every day, you will suffer the pain of resentment-worms gnawing at your bones and marrow. The only way to slightly ease that pain is to loudly confess your crimes to every single person!”
As her voice fell, thick black resentment in the air formed a strange pattern before plunging into Zhang Tong’s body.
He clutched his head and screamed even more miserably. His skull began to swell and develop at a rapid pace. The muscles of his face writhed wildly, visibly maturing before aging into withered lines.
Jiang Fu stepped out from the shroud of resentment. As she walked, the disguise on her face gradually dissolved, revealing her true appearance at last—calm, pale, and sharp. She truly looked like an Asura returned from the future to seek vengeance.
She gazed down at Zhang Tong, who writhed on the ground without dignity—just as he had once looked down at her.
“I won’t kill you,” she said. “Didn’t you adore Zhang Biao? I’ll grant your wish. For the rest of your lives, you father and son can depend on each other—love each other dearly.”