Chapter Sixty-Eight: Epilogue
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Late at night, when the world was silent.
Yan Ming was working overtime at the law firm, sorting through the details of Madam Yang’s accident case, when he unexpectedly noticed something: five years ago, Madam Yang had purchased a personal accident insurance policy, which expired two months later.
The company she had chosen was called Pingkang Life Insurance.
Yan Ming felt that he had seen this name somewhere recently. After a moment of thought, he finally remembered and hurriedly searched his pockets, pulling out the crumpled paper Madam Yang had handed to Yin Nian.
He unfolded the slip; on the back, aside from several humorous anecdotes, there were also a few advertisements. One of them was for Pingkang Life Insurance—and on that very advertisement, there were traces where liquid had soaked and dried.
Yan Ming sensed that he was beginning to understand something. He frowned slightly, eyes narrowed in contemplation.
After a long while, he opened his eyes, a sharper light in his gaze. He took out the case files he had intended to archive, placed them all in his briefcase, and left the office.
Descending the stairs, Yan Ming drove straight to Baxian County.
Yet he failed to notice that, behind him, another car followed at a distance, neither too close nor too far.
One o’clock in the morning. At the psychological clinic.
Yuan Yi sat in an armchair. The room was pitch dark; not a single light was on.
Suddenly, a startled cry pierced the darkness. Yuan Yi, seated in the chair, awoke from his dream with a violent shudder. Dim moonlight spilled onto his face, revealing beads of sweat and an expression of terror. He turned his head toward the crimson wardrobe in the corner, rose slowly, and walked over to it, unlocking the cabinet.
A dull, creaking sound accompanied the slow opening of its doors.
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Yuan Yi leaned his head into the wardrobe. A faint sobbing echoed from within, as if someone were hiding inside, weeping.
He spoke softly to the wardrobe, his words strange and indistinct, impossible to decipher.
After a long time, Yuan Yi stopped speaking, withdrew his head, and took out his phone, dialing a number.
“We need to meet,” Yuan Yi said in a low voice. “There are things that must be clarified.”
“What things?” The response was equally subdued, a man's voice.
“If we proceed this way—” Yuan Yi glanced at the crimson wardrobe, “he will never rest.”
“So what do you want?” The voice on the other end grew even more somber.
“Tomorrow morning. We’ll talk face to face.” Yuan Yi ended the call.
The night deepened. The sky was shrouded in dense clouds; lightning flickered along the western horizon, accompanied by distant, muffled thunder.
A storm was brewing.
Outside Baxian County, in a small cabin by the lake.
The three Yang siblings gathered around a wooden table, with a brazier placed atop it.
Purple-red flames flickered from the brazier, sizzling softly.
The room was unlit; the firelight danced across their faces, casting them in shadows, their expressions grave and tense.
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Yang Yongli took a document from his black briefcase and held it above the brazier.
“Come,” Yang Yongli said in a low voice. “Together.”
Yang Yonggui and Yang Yongfang both reached out, each grasping the document.
A moment later, all three released it at once, letting it fall into the brazier.
The flames leapt higher, hissing intensely.
In the glow, each of their faces broke into a sly, conspiratorial smile.
A crack of thunder split the night, lightning following in its wake, as if a sword had cleaved the darkness.
Baxian Hospital, in a private ward.
Madam Yang’s eyelids trembled at the sound of thunder. When the flash illuminated the room, she suddenly opened her eyes. Her features contorted with pain; a hoarse sound escaped her throat. One hand clutched her neck, the other gripped the bedsheet as she writhed upon the bed.
Another thunderclap exploded, and torrential rain began to fall, drumming against the windows.
The storm, long in the making, had finally arrived.