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Capítulo 7

On the grass in the painting sits a woman in a white gauze dress, her slender arms outstretched, leaning forward—her long, flowing hair, her moon-like face, and her graceful, beautiful figure, though seemingly aloof, exude a captivating charm. She is practicing yoga with a focused mind, her eyes half-open, lost in the reverie of ancient Indian mysticism.

Judging from her figure, clothing, and posture, Wu Bingbing felt that this woman seemed familiar; she was the white-clad woman who repeatedly appeared in her dreams.

She walked over and stood to the side, observing from another angle.

Large swaths of white in the painting suddenly turned yellowish under the backlight, and the woman leaning forward with her hands about to fall to the ground transformed into an animal the same size as her body. It took a while to recognize that it was a wolf, a huge and ferocious wolf; it was old and ugly, its head covered with scars, and its fur mottled and unsightly.

The wolf's eyes narrowed slightly, baring its teeth and gleaming coldly. The grass behind the woman turned into a purplish-black shadow, like an unfathomable forest. And the bright blue sky above had become a pitch-black night dotted with stars.

The wolf raised one leg forward, seemingly having just emerged from the woods. It must have been hungry and stealthy, crept through the darkness, greedily searching for prey.

She recalled the vaguely defined beast that had appeared repeatedly in her dreams.

She stood in front of the painting again, carefully examining the woman sitting there serenely.

The woman's eyes must have been large, though they weren't fully open, you could tell from the slender corners. A high, delicate nose, bright, flowing lips, a rounded, soft chin, a long, fair neck, and the neatness and cleanliness of her hair and the edge of her neck—everything about her seemed sculpted perfection.

A mother and daughter walked past her, stopped in front of a painting, and talked to each other as they looked at it.

"Mom, look here, it was painted by that female artist."

"Hmm...is that the one your teacher talked about?"

"It's in the newspaper too. Look at her paintings, from this angle...aren't they amazing?"

"Oh my, what happened? ...You scared me!"

"None of the students believed that the painter would kill someone."

"Really? Let's go, let's go take a look over there—"

The two women walked away talking, as if the mother didn't want to talk about the painter.

Wu Bingbing couldn't help but wonder, yoga draws on the natural postures of animals, usually imitating turtles, snakes, camels, or even locusts, so what does it have to do with a wolf? Besides, her previous movements didn't seem to be imitating a wolf.

Why is there a fierce-looking wolf drawn behind her?

Who is this woman painted by the artist Jiang Lan? Who did she model for? Was it someone else, or herself?

What is this woman's relationship with me? Why does she keep appearing in my dreams? Why does she keep following me?

And what about the wild beast that often chases you in your dreams, whose face you can't see but whose howl you can hear? Is it the old, ugly wolf hidden in the picture? ...

Wu Bingbing looked at the painting over and over again, trying to find the answer in the subtle textures.

Suddenly, she heard a rustling sound like wind. Looking closer, she saw the woman in the painting move. Her suspended hand slowly lowered, her body twisting to face forward; her previously half-closed eyes were now wide open—her pupils like golden cornflowers, or perhaps the eyes of some animal, their irises gleaming with a chilling ferocity. She stared fixedly at Bingbing, a mocking, cruel smile playing on her lips, her hand waving as if casting a spell…

Wu Bingbing felt the painting grow larger and larger, until it enveloped her. Suddenly, a mist enveloped her, and she could only see flowing white ribbons guiding her forward. It was as if she had fallen into a deep, enclosed tunnel, with cold winds and mist carrying her forward. She completely lost consciousness, as if someone were leading her by the hand. She walked forward, emerging from the black tunnel, where the dome above her had turned purplish-red, with large chunks of dark clouds rushing by. She heard the sounds of various animals running around, and the panting and howling of wild beasts approaching from afar.

The woman appeared ahead, still dressed in white, but with several streaks of blood on her face, and her expression had turned cold and ruthless. She stood arrogantly at a distance, waiting for the cold wind to push her prey towards her.

The woman in white said, "You finally found me, didn't you? Did you come here to die?"

She couldn't open her mouth, shook her head in pain, and looked at her with a wronged expression.

The woman in white pointed at her and said, "You shouldn't have lived in the first place. You only lived because others died."

She was speechless, staring hopelessly at the woman in front of her.

"You'll all die, one by one!" the woman in white cried out, her voice carrying far across the wilderness. "You stole someone's heart... then pay with your lives! Damn you!"

She tried to turn and run, but her legs wouldn't move. The woman in white leaped behind her, grabbed her shoulders, pressed her face against her ear, and hissed, "I won't kill you now. You're still useful. You have to kill that little girl. The little girl who stole someone else's heart. You must obey me, or I'll kill you at any moment. Two days later at noon, when that little girl is on her way home from school, she'll walk to that construction site. There's an abandoned pond there where she'll be watching the tadpoles. You go behind her and push her in. Push her in, understand?"

As the woman in white spoke, she ran her fingers through her hair, and the cold breath she exhaled sent shivers down her spine. Although she couldn't see the woman's face, she could see her lips moving, the cold glint of her white teeth, and even a strand of hair clinging to her face. She felt as if her very soul had left her, her mind completely blank, and she could only stare with pleading eyes in terror.

Suddenly, a white cloth flew out and covered her face, and she fell back into a dizzying ball of light. A hand shoved her from behind, and she felt herself roll on the ground like a tattered ball. Then, the sounds of wild animals running and barking filled the air, clearly pouncing on her and fighting for food…

"Wake up, wake up. What's wrong? What's wrong? ——"

When she opened her eyes, she found herself lying on the ground in front of the painting, surrounded by many people. Zhang Qun held her shoulders and helped her sit up, and someone handed her a bottle of mineral water to drink.

Seeing so many people watching her lying on the ground in such a disheveled state made her feel extremely embarrassed. Forcing herself to stay awake, she suddenly stood up, frantically picked up her belongings, and ran out of the hall in shame.

Zhang Qun chased after her, all the way to the corridor outside the door, and helped her up as she swayed.

"What's wrong? Are you alright?" Zhang Qun asked with concern.

"It's nothing, just a bit dizzy," Wu Bingbing said. "It's probably because it's too hot, and I suddenly got heatstroke."

"It's good that you're alright. They've been calling for you for ages. Shall I take you home?"

"No, no, thank you, I can manage on my own."

"Okay, you can rest for a bit before you go back."

Just as Zhang Qun turned around, Wu Bingbing called out to her, "Hey!"

Zhang Qun said, "Are you really alright? How about I give you a ride?"

Wu Bingbing said, "It's alright, I'm much better now. I'd like to ask you, why are you so interested in this painter named Jiang Lan? Besides the interview, are there any other reasons?"

Zhang Qun said, "Before I studied Chinese, I also liked to draw and thought about becoming a painter. Because of Jiang Lan's case, after learning about Jiang Lan, a painter, I realized that painters, especially female painters, are not only glamorous, but also have a lot of blood and tears. So while I was writing news reports, I started to collect all the information about her, and I wanted to write a book reflecting her personal experience. Of course, I also need to study her paintings."

Remembering that Zhang Qun was also a writer, she asked, "You sympathize with Jiang Lan's fate?"

“Yes, I sympathize with her.” Zhang Qun excitedly took off her glasses and said, “When reporting on her murder case, I could only stand on the side of the media, becoming a tool of public opinion, desperately suppressing my sympathy for her. Take the day she was executed, for example. Thousands of people followed to watch. Besides sending out news reports, I also wrote a feature article called ‘A Beautiful Fall.’ Just because I added a few words of sympathy, I was severely criticized by the newspaper’s editor-in-chief, who scolded me for being unable to distinguish right from wrong, for losing my stance, for praising and whitewashing criminals, and said that I had made a mistake in my stance and principles. It’s outrageous! Now, I want to use the information I’ve collected to write what I want to express and what I can express, to write my own understanding and feelings. Let those old men who only know how to sit in their offices and lecture people have no say in this.”

Wu Bingbing asked, "I saw the news, but I forgot. What day was she executed?"

Zhang Qun said, "Last month, on September 24th..."

Wu Bingbing exclaimed "Ah!" and quickly covered her mouth with her hand.

She couldn't help but mutter to herself, "I understand, I think I understand."

Zhang Qun looked at her, puzzled. "What do you understand?"

Wu Bingbing said, "It's nothing. Could you give me some news articles about her?"

"Of course. Tell me your email address and I'll send it to you."

"Thank you so much today! You're so kind! Thank you!"

"Don't mention it. Let's be friends and keep in touch."

"I will," Wu Bingbing thought, "Looks like I'm in big trouble."

Chapter Seven

That night, Jiang Lan was detained in a cell at the detention center. The next day, when she was interrogated, they found her clothes covered in blood, and there was blood everywhere on the floor. It turned out she had bitten off her tongue during the night; she didn't want to talk about her past anymore.

When Wu Bingbing got home, it was almost noon. She searched the house for newspapers from a few months ago while hurriedly turning on her computer. To her surprise, Zhang Qun had already sent the materials, beginning with a cartoon of a clown laughing happily, along with a few comforting words. Remembering her initial distance from Zhang Qun, she felt a pang of guilt.

The first newspaper to publish the murder case was *City News*. This was followed by a follow-up report in *Southern Herald*, many of which were written by Zhang Qun. Subsequently, *E City Evening News*, *Popular Entertainment*, and *Legal Review* all joined in, giving it extensive coverage for several months. The incident occurred in early May; Wu Bingbing was at university hundreds of miles away at the time, busy with her studies, and didn't see any reports about the case.

A news report published in City News on May 7, 2002, titled "Unidentified Male Corpse Found in Stone Forest of Volcanic Ruins on the Suburbs," was written by reporter Feng Gang. The report included the following:

Yesterday afternoon at 4:50 PM, a couple surnamed Cai, tourists from Jiangsu Province, discovered an unidentified body under a pile of volcanic rocks in a volcanic ruins stone forest located 25 kilometers west of the city. The Municipal Public Security Bureau responded quickly and dispatched personnel to the scene, where they cordoned off the area and began their investigation. Preliminary assessments indicate the deceased was a male, approximately 50 years old, with an unknown identity, and the death was a homicide.

Due to the recent increase in tourists, the volcanic ruins and stone forest, which are usually rarely visited, have welcomed waves of tourists seeking novelty. The Cai couple spent an afternoon in the volcanic stone forest. When they reached a rocky area two kilometers from the crater, they found a stray dog rummaging through the rocks. A mangled arm was sticking out. Upon closer inspection, they concluded it was a corpse and called the police. An autopsy confirmed that the victim had died two days prior. Because the body was buried deep, except for the damaged arm, the rest of the body was largely intact.

Next came the announcement published by the Municipal Public Security Bureau in the May 8, 2002 edition of the *E City Evening News*, seeking the identification of the body and assistance in solving the case. Besides a half-body photograph of the victim's body, there were also some suggestive text descriptions—

An unidentified male corpse, 1.72 meters tall, approximately 50 years old, with a long, thin face, pointed chin, and slightly slanted eyes (moderate myopia), and fair skin (the face was somewhat swollen and discolored). He was wearing a pair of gold-framed glasses, identified as being manufactured by a Hong Kong company. He was dressed in a short-sleeved plaid cotton shirt and loose-fitting dark brown casual trousers. Cash was found in his trouser pockets, but no identification documents were found. DNA testing confirmed his blood type was AB. Investigators also extracted microparticles from his shirt, which were identified as oil paint residue, suggesting his profession was related to painting or that he had contact with people working in the oil painting industry before his death. The victim was murdered between midnight on May 5th and 4 AM the following morning. The victim's family is urged to contact the police immediately to identify the body and cooperate with the investigation. We also urge anyone with information to come forward; a reward will be offered.

It wasn't until 20 days later, on May 28, 2002, that the *Southern Herald* reported on the case. The article, written by Zhang Qun, was titled "The 'May 7th' Volcano Crater Corpse Case Solved: Female Painter Detained on Suspicion of Intentional Murder." The main content is as follows—

The "May 7th" volcanic crater corpse case, which has garnered widespread public attention, has made a breakthrough thanks to a tip-off from an informant. Police have identified the deceased as Hong Kong art dealer Chen Zhongjie and yesterday criminally detained Jiang Lan, a female painter from the city's art academy, on suspicion of intentional homicide. Jiang Lan, 35, is a contracted painter with the city's art academy. She came to the city four years ago, reportedly after returning from abroad; her parents are currently in Portugal.

According to sources, the witness identified the victim's features from a body recovery notice and suspected it might be the art dealer she had seen before. The witness was a colleague of the suspect, Jiang Lan, and knew about Jiang Lan's past and her interactions with the art dealer, thus suspecting Jiang Lan's involvement in the dealer's death. After considerable hesitation, she decided to report the incident to the police. Because her testimony was a breakthrough in solving the case, the police awarded her a reward.

The Southern Herald published "One of the Follow-up Reports on the Case of Female Painter Jiang Lan Suspected of Murder," on June 2, 2002, by reporter Zhang Qun. The main content is as follows—

A female painter committed murder? And Jiang Lan, a famous female painter in the city, committed murder? — Many people find it hard to understand, some are skeptical, and some even think there's been a mistake. With these questions in mind, the reporter followed up on the case. Because the investigation is not yet closed and specific details are unavailable, the reporter conducted a comprehensive investigation into the places where Jiang Lan worked and lived, interviewed her neighbors and colleagues, and exclusively interviewed Wang, the insightful person in the case who was rewarded by the police for her courageous testimony.

Ms. Wang, also a female painter at the city's art academy, was slightly older than Jiang Lan, who usually addressed her as "elder sister." She had only met Chen Zhongjie a few times and still didn't understand the relationship between Chen and Jiang Lan. To be precise, she only learned that the man's name was Chen Zhongjie when she saw the notice for the identification of the body. Ms. Wang recalled that she first met him a year ago when she and Jiang Lan were assigned by the E City Art Academy to fly from Province A in the south to Harbin in Northeast China to participate in a Sino-Russian oil painting exhibition. She remembered that Jiang Lan didn't want to go, but the academy leaders decided to let her represent them, and she didn't refuse until the day before departure. She said it was the first time in several years that she had gone to another province. I was puzzled at the time; she spent all her time in her studio, unwilling to travel far, so how did she create such excellent paintings?

On the second day of the art exhibition, a group of guests from Hong Kong came to our southern exhibition area. I noticed a very thin middle-aged man staring at Jiang Lan, so I nudged her to alert her. Unexpectedly, her expression changed when she saw the man, and she quickly averted her gaze. After that one glance, the man seemed certain he hadn't mistaken her for someone else, so he approached her, called out something, and asked, "Is that you? What are you doing here? I've been looking for you for so long! When did you return to China?" Jiang Lan seemed very nervous, saying that he had mistaken her for someone else, and leaned back, greeting me briefly before hurrying to the restroom at the far end of the building. The man followed her for a few steps, looking confused, and wandered around the area, occasionally glancing towards the restroom door. I thought he must know Jiang Lan, otherwise how would he know she had gone abroad? But what did he call her? I didn't hear clearly; he had obviously called her by the wrong name. That day, when Jiang Lan returned to her hotel room, I asked her who that man was, and she said she didn't know him, that he had mistaken her for someone else. Unexpectedly, the doorbell rang, and the man had found our room. I saw him through the peephole. Jiang Lan initially wouldn't let me open the door. I suggested calling the building security, but she wouldn't let me. When I tried to make a phone call, she snatched the receiver away, repeatedly saying, "Forget it, don't cause trouble." Finally, she gave in to the man's insistence on ringing the doorbell and opened the door, saying to him, "Sir, you've mistaken me for someone else. I'm not who you are. I don't know you, and I've never been abroad. Please don't disturb us, or my colleague will call the police." After the man left, I thought, Jiang Lan could say the man had mistaken me for someone else, but why did she say she hadn't been abroad? She clearly came back from overseas; why would she lie?

On the morning of the third day, Jiang Lan suddenly announced her return to the south, producing two pre-booked plane tickets. Caught off guard, I asked about the art exhibition. She said she had completed all the necessary paperwork, entrusting the main exhibition organizer with handling everything, including returning the exhibited paintings after the exhibition. I then realized this was all pre-planned; she clearly had something on her mind, perhaps related to avoiding that strange man. After we returned, none of us mentioned the incident. Then, one morning two months later, the office building's reception desk called to say someone was looking for Jiang Lan. When Jiang Lan came down to meet them, several of us peered out, but only I recognized the man—the one from Harbin. Later, we discovered Jiang Lan had gone out with him, and we had no idea where they went. Afterwards, I asked Jiang Lan about the man, but she downplayed it, saying he was an art dealer, an old friend, and didn't elaborate.

I thought, didn't she say she didn't know him? How did they become old acquaintances again? But she didn't say that. Instead, she happily asked, "You know an art dealer? Could you introduce him to your colleagues at work? That way, we can all sell more paintings." She casually replied, "When the opportunity arises," and turned to go about her other business. She didn't introduce that art dealer to anyone. Every time the art dealer came to see her, she would accompany him, keeping a safe distance from the workplace. Many people witnessed the art dealer taking away many of Jiang Lan's paintings time and time again, but no one knew how much money Jiang Lan actually made from them. After a while, the art dealer rarely came to see her at work anymore. But unexpectedly, the two continued to be in contact, and the art dealer even moved into Jiang Lan's home.

We didn't know at first that the art dealer had moved into Jiang Lan's house. We only suspected she might have a lover or a roommate, but we never imagined she would be with such an old and unattractive man. Once, a painter went to sketch in the countryside and told us he'd seen Jiang Lan on a very secluded hillside. Jiang Lan was also sketching, and when she saw us, she couldn't avoid us, so she quickly put on her glasses, but they couldn't hide the injuries on her face—several bruises on her forehead and one cheek, her lips and chin were swollen, and her once beautiful face was now distorted. The painter asked her what happened. She said she'd accidentally fallen and injured herself. The painter didn't believe her and pressed her for more information, at which point she angrily packed up her easel and left.

That day, something came up at work, and I couldn't find Jiang Lan. She didn't answer her phone, so they asked me to go to her house. I rode my bicycle to her house in Yulin Village, west of the city. Just as I was about to knock on the gate, I heard an argument inside—a man and a woman, their voices rising and falling, a very heated argument, interspersed with the sounds of things hitting the ground, or glass bottles and porcelain breaking. Then the argument subsided slightly, and I heard the woman's suppressed sobs, which lasted for a long time before she stopped. Then the argument resumed, one sentence after another, the woman sounding like she was pleading, while the man's tone was vicious…

Wang said that he did not go into Jiang Lan's house that day, and when he came back he told his superiors that he had not found her.

But ever since then, I've felt both suspicious and worried about the relationship between Jiang Lan and that art dealer. I feel that Jiang Lan's past is as complex as her psychology, unclear, unfathomable, and difficult to understand. I've thought that the art dealer clearly understands Jiang Lan; otherwise, the talented and beautiful Jiang Lan would never have willingly been with him, and would have so submissively submitted to this old and ugly man. Judging from Jiang Lan's inconsistent attitude towards him, the art dealer clearly knows something about Jiang Lan's past—what? Nothing more than her secrets unknown to others—and is using this to blackmail and control her…

In this context, the May 29, 2002 issue of *Legal Review* published an interview note by the newspaper's reporter, titled "Jiang Lan, the Female Painter, Through the Eyes of Villagers." An excerpt follows—

The female painter Jiang Lan lived in a courtyard house in Yulin Village, Chengguan Town, on the western outskirts of the city. She bought it several years ago when she returned from abroad. Recently, when reporters visited Yulin Village, they found the courtyard house sealed off. Villagers were abuzz with discussion about the incident. Some said they had seen the deceased man, who had visited Jiang Lan's house multiple times, suspecting he was her lover. Others saw him leaving the courtyard that morning, speculating he might have stayed there that day. Some disagreed, saying the man had no connection to Jiang Lan, claiming he was just an art dealer, because he always left with bundles of paintings, indicating he was there to collect orders. Still others insisted on the former view, citing an example: one rainy night, a villager returning by car saw Jiang Lan running and crying in the rain, even running into the open field shouting. Only after the rain stopped did the art dealer come out of her house and pull her back inside. The art dealer's behavior towards her resembled that of a married couple. Many villagers said they had seen Jiang Lan and the man walking in the fields. They described Jiang Lan as not only beautiful but also very well-mannered, greeting people warmly and not the kind of person with a strange temperament; they couldn't imagine her killing the man. Some villagers said they used to worry about Jiang Lan's safety, seeing her ride a motorcycle out to paint and then living alone in such a large courtyard. Later, they learned she kept a wolfhound, and they often heard it barking, so they felt there was no need to worry anymore.

On the day the police came to arrest her, nearby residents and witnesses said that the female painter was in the courtyard at the time. She had been painting there early in the morning, with her easel placed under a shed in the middle of the courtyard. When several policemen arrived at the courtyard with her female colleague, the gate was not closed, and they entered.

The female painter, unaware of anyone approaching, continued painting, her brush flying across the canvas, her face glistening with sweat. A group of people stood behind her, watching silently. As she bent down to pick up her palette knife, she was surprised to see the newcomers. She seemed to understand something, her eyes slowly scanning the police officers before finally settling on her colleague, Wang, staring intently at her with wide eyes. Wang had no choice but to avert her gaze, hiding behind the police. As Jiang Lan was handcuffed and escorted out by two police officers, her feet moved forward, but her body twisted, her head still fixed on her female colleague, her eyes cold and sinister like knives, chilling even those nearby. Throughout, she didn't utter a single word.

The Southern Herald published "The Third Follow-up Report on the Case of Female Painter Jiang Lan Suspected of Murder," on June 4, 2002, by reporter Zhang Qun. The main content is as follows—

The case of the female painter suspected of murder has been publicized for several days. When reporters visited the police station recently, Officer Wang, who was in charge of the case, appeared serious and refused to comment, stating that he was currently interrogating her. However, through in-depth investigations and internal connections, reporters learned that something unexpected had happened. It was said that after Jiang Lan was brought to the police station, she remained silent throughout, not uttering a single word all day. That night, she was detained in a detention cell. The next day, when she was interrogated, her clothes were covered in blood, and there was blood everywhere on the floor. It turned out that she had bitten off her tongue during the night. The police were shocked, saying that such an incident had never occurred in the city before. She was taken to the hospital for treatment, but the doctor said that the bitten-off tongue was discovered too late, a whole night had passed, and the nerves were dead, making reattachment impossible.

Jiang Lan remains in custody, but her interrogation has been suspended. As for why she bit her tongue—was it to resist interrogation? Or was there some unspeakable secret? The police have not provided an explanation, and others are only speculating; it seems only she herself can say for sure.

On July 13, 2002, the magazine *Popular Entertainment* published an article by veteran artist Yuan, titled "A Cold-Blooded Murderer and a Beautiful Painter." The main content is as follows—

Four years ago, a painter named Jiang Lan returned from abroad. Although her hair was black and her skin yellow, her arrival, imbued with a Western flair, captivated the local art scene. She proposed a postmodern revolution in painting, and theorists generally considered her artistic concepts novel. She was obsessed with dazzling colors, claiming to unleash the screams of visual language. Her painting was not confined by brushes or knives; she used any means necessary, employing various techniques and pigments at her disposal. She imitated unconventional Western painters, painting nude in seclusion, splashing paint haphazardly, smearing it with her hands and feet—almost to the point of madness. Some said her paintings were Cubist magic, others said they were full of Eastern mystery, and still others said they were purely pretentious and lacked artistic value.

This controversial female painter, the subject of much debate, has unexpectedly been arrested recently for murder and disposing of a body. This incident serves as a stark reminder to those who blindly worship so-called Western trends while abandoning their own national culture, offering a vivid and real-life lesson. Not long ago, a critic brazenly described the female painter's themes, claiming she used her heart and life to express the tension, repression, conflict, pain, fear, confusion, and despair of human existence. Alas, if we follow this metaphysical theory, then the hope for art should be placed in the mentally unstable and the murderers. Isn't that so? According to postmodern perspectives, perhaps the mentally ill and murderers embody everything—partiality, stubbornness, arrogance, ignorance, barbarity, and absurdity. It's utterly ridiculous that a perverted artist, devoid of law, morality, and norms, is adored and supported by so-called elites. I, an old man, cry out: Elites, wake up!

The Southern Herald published a follow-up report on the case of female painter Jiang Lan, suspected of murder, on August 26, 2002. The main title was "The Mystery of the Female Painter's Identity," and the reporter was Zhang Qun. The main content is as follows—

According to sources from relevant departments, the case of Jiang Lan, suspected of murder, was transferred to the procuratorate for prosecution on June 18 after the police investigation concluded. However, after preliminary review, the procuratorate returned the entire case file to the police station, requesting further investigation, citing the incomplete investigation of the female painter Jiang Lan's identity. After further investigation, the police station resubmitted the case file to the procuratorate on July 3. Unexpectedly, the procuratorate returned the file a second time, requesting further investigation. The reason was still the issue of the female painter Jiang Lan's identity.

A reporter interviewed Officer Wang, the officer in charge of the case at the Municipal Public Security Bureau's Criminal Investigation Brigade. Officer Wang stated that the police had done their utmost to investigate the identity of the suspect, Jiang Lan. They found Jiang Lan's return-to-China records through the immigration department. However, her passport is currently unavailable, and this record is the only clue to her identity. She entered China on April 11, 1998, via Hong Kong from Macau, through Shenzhen customs, holding a Portuguese passport. Contact with the Portuguese authorities through the foreign affairs department revealed that the passport issuing authority was the Madeira Regional Police Station. Madeira is a small island in the Atlantic Ocean, more than 800 kilometers south of the Portuguese capital. The foreign affairs department could only send an inquiry letter, to which the police station replied that they could not find any records related to Jiang Lan. The police also investigated the Chinese community in Portugal through the Chinese Embassy, but found no information about Jiang Lan's parents in Portugal. All of Jiang Lan's pre-entry documents are unavailable.

The file retrieved from Jiang Lan only contained information about the four years since she returned to China—it couldn't be simpler.

The application form stated her ancestral home was China, and she was originally an overseas Chinese from Portugal. Her colleagues at the art academy had known for years that she had returned from Portugal, and that her parents were still abroad. Now that the situation in China has improved, many overseas Chinese from previous generations are returning, so it's not surprising. Furthermore, Jiang Lan rarely talks about her life abroad, so almost no one can provide information about her situation overseas. In desperation, the police published notices in the Hong Kong newspaper *Ta Kung Pao* and the Macau newspaper *Xinhua Aobao*, hoping that Jiang Lan's parents would contact the police after seeing the publications.

Officer Wang also stated that, according to the law, if a criminal suspect refuses to reveal their true identity, or if their true identity cannot be immediately ascertained, they will still be convicted and sentenced based on the established facts of the crime and the name they provided. Currently, Jiang Lan is biting her tongue and self-harming, unwilling to reveal her identity—but during police questioning, she nodded and admitted to the murders, only refusing to elaborate on the details. Every time the police offered her a pen to write, she broke it in two. It is said that she attempted suicide twice, once stabbing herself in the heart with a toothbrush handle, but was rescued and survived.

It is said that the public security authorities recently transferred the case to the procuratorate again, hoping that the procuratorate's review and prosecution would expedite the trial. The police officers interviewed all said that they each had a pile of cases on their hands and were busy with other cases, leaving them with little time and energy to focus on this one case.

The *E City Evening News* published a news article on September 24, 2002, titled "Jiang Lan, Convicted of Intentional Homicide, Executed Today." The main content is as follows—

This morning, the Intermediate People's Court of the city announced the death sentence approval order from the Provincial Higher People's Court for Jiang Lan, who was convicted of intentional homicide, and escorted her to the execution ground to be executed by firing squad.