Empreinte de main en sang

Chapitre 7

Finally, Helan asked Xu Li where she worked. The woman on the other end hesitated for a long time before answering that she worked at the Golden Jue Nightclub. Helan and Qin Ge immediately understood Xu Li's identity. Helan asked the woman on the other end of the phone to come to the Municipal Criminal Investigation Team first thing the next morning, and then hung up.

Nowadays, some psychopathic killers specifically target prostitutes, and such stories are no longer surprising in novels. Therefore, despite the progress made in the investigation, Helan remained somewhat disheartened.

"These assassins these days, why do they have no creativity at all? They keep using the same old tricks, which makes people lose all motivation," Helan complained.

In fact, it didn't take long for Helan to realize that he was wrong. This time, the assassin they encountered was not only creative, but the creativity was so creative that it sent chills down one's spine.

Chapter 5

Watching the three policemen's retreating figures, Yang Zheng stood by the door, motionless for a long time. His eyes were somewhat unfocused, as if he were lost in some kind of delusion, or like a lost child who couldn't find his way home in the dark.

The sun shone brightly after the snow, but Yang Zheng felt that some shadows were slowly growing.

He believed that one day those shadows would engulf the entire city, leaving everyone with nowhere to escape.

The sudden fear made Yang Zheng's body tremble slightly.

He slowly raised his right hand, watching it tremble uncontrollably. He gripped it tightly with his left hand, which then also began to tremble. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and the fear in his eyes turned into a shadow, slowly spreading and permeating every part of his body.

He breathed heavily, slammed the door shut, turned and staggered forward. When he reached the stairs and grabbed the wooden handrail, he subconsciously looked up and saw a girl named Yang Mei standing at the end of the stairs.

Yang Mei's face was like a lake, undisturbed by any ripples. She stared calmly, a hint of indifference, at the man downstairs, observing his panic and fear, before a sorrowful glint appeared in her eyes.

—Sorrow seemed to have seeped into the very marrow of her bones.

Yang Zheng suddenly felt ashamed that the girl had discovered his secret.

He stomped heavily up the stairs, dust drifting down from the cracks in the floorboards and dancing in the slanting sunlight. The beam of light, like a sword, pierced right across Yang Zheng's neck, thus enveloping the young man in an aura of death.

More dust swirled as Yang Zheng approached the sorrowful girl step by step. Shame in the shadows transformed into rage, a power capable of destroying everything. More power surged within Yang Zheng; he knew he had to destroy something now, or else that power might cause his entire being to explode.

Yang Mei remained standing motionless, her sorrow utterly defenseless. She was like a warrior with her gates wide open, seemingly vulnerable to any slight blow. The frail girl faced the angry man with such composure.

In the end, it was the powerful man who was defeated.

When Yang Zheng was only three steps away from the girl, he finally let out a low roar, his body suddenly leaping up and rushing past Yang Mei.

Yang Mei slowly turned around, only to see Yang Zheng's back disappear by a door.

The sound of "thump thump" rang out, and Yang Mei knew without looking that Yang Zheng must be punching the sandbag. The sandbag was full of sand, so a punch felt like hitting a stone.

A hint of worry appeared on Yang Mei's calm face. She knew that this man was currently enduring painful torment.

Yang Zheng is a patient, and he is very ill.

No one could help him, not even the doctors.

The first time Yang Mei witnessed Yang Zheng's episode was in the summer. That night, she worked late, and after seeing off the last customer, Yang Mei silently packed up the props and costumes. Suddenly, she felt the room was extremely quiet; she could even hear her own breathing. She instinctively turned her head and saw the man's eyes were bloodshot, staring intently at her.

She was somewhat flustered. Yang Zheng's appearance that night was truly terrifying, like a wild beast that had just been released from its cage, dangerous and frightening, and anyone who got close to him could become his prey.

Unfortunately, at this moment, besides Yang Zheng, Yang Mei was the only other person in the old house.

Yang Zheng charged straight at Yang Mei, the burning lust in his eyes searing Yang Mei's skin.

At that moment, like all women in distress, Yang Mei could only scream and close her eyes; she really didn't know what else she could do.

But the imagined danger did not actually happen. When she opened her eyes, the man had already fled in panic, rushing upstairs.

Yang Mei finally understood why there was a sandbag hanging in a room upstairs; Yang Zheng used it to release the energy surging within his body.

Yang Zheng is undoubtedly a terrifying man, but he is clearly unwilling to hurt Yang Mei, or anyone else.

That time, Yang Mei took off her shoes and quietly climbed the stairs. By the window, she saw Yang Zheng, shirtless, slumped against the wall. The continuous punches seemed to have exhausted his strength; his hands, hanging limply at his sides, were stained with blood. More importantly, under Yang Mei's watchful gaze, his body slowly collapsed.

He curled up—kneeling, bending over, and hugging his feet with his hands.

Anyone who looks at that posture can imagine a child in the mother's womb.

Yang Mei suddenly felt like crying, and then she actually shed tears. At that moment, she had an impulse to walk to the man's side, hug him tightly, like hugging her own child.

But in the end, she turned around and quietly went downstairs.

If a man locks himself in a room when he is in pain, then leaving is actually the best comfort for him—at least that way, you preserve his self-respect.

But Yang Mei didn't actually leave that time. She sat downstairs alone, tears streaming down her face. She could understand that everyone must have an extraordinary past, but she couldn't accept that Yang Zheng had such a completely different side.

She still remembers the first time she met Yang Zheng, this seemingly unruly long-haired man who told her, "You are beautiful."

Under the lights, amidst the flashes of the cameras, she paid no attention to what the man was saying. She simply followed the photographer's instructions, casually sitting on the floor, stubbornly and heavily immersed in her despair and sorrow.

Most girls' sorrows stem from love, and Yangmei is no exception.

In every sorrowful love story, there is bound to be a heartless man who, after taking away a girl's love, stabs her heart deeply before leaving her heartlessly, leaving her with no hope whatsoever.

Yang Mei didn't actually hate that man that much; in fact, she even imagined all sorts of reasons why he would leave. Of course, the truth was that he had fallen in love with another woman, a beautiful and elegant woman, whom Yang Mei felt ashamed of even in her imagination.

Such stories are common; they happen almost every day in this city.

But Yangmei simply couldn't shake off her despair and sorrow.

Before the man broke up with her, she firmly believed that her life was bound to him.

Life had lost its color; youth and beauty could no longer bring her joy. She was like a flower bud falling in the wind, about to wither before she could fully bloom. Then, she met this man with a camera.

The man said to her, "You are beautiful."

She believed him after seeing the photos. Her initial indifference quickly turned into surprise. She couldn't even believe that such ethereal beauty was related to her.