episode 26

Ding Xiabing is dead.

The obituary was issued the afternoon after Mo Wenjin's arrest.

The official cause of death was determined to be a drug overdose. Whether due to concerns about public opinion or some other unspeakable reason, the police have not fully disclosed the specific details of Ding Xiabing's death to the public.

However, since the time of Ding Xiabing's death and the time of Mo Wenjin's arrest were too close, it was only natural that a new wave of discussion quickly swept across the Internet.

Although the official conclusion has been reached, all sorts of speculations continue to emerge on the internet like flies, creating a noisy and chaotic scene.

Some analyses suggest Ding Xiabing committed suicide because she couldn't bear the exposure of her explicit photos; others say she was murdered by someone hired by the Mo family in a fit of rage; still others claim the police dared not release details of her death because they tortured her during questioning, causing her, who already suffered from depression, to have a mental breakdown and die...

There are even more absurd claims that Ding Xiabing was killed by the hospital's doctors.

But all these baseless conspiracy theories came to an abrupt end a few days later when unscrupulous media outlets released two photos of Ding Xiabing at the time of her death.

Then, it boiled again, but the temperature was much hotter than boiling water in a kettle.

It is true that Ding Xiabing died from an overdose of anesthetic drugs, but the details at the time were far more complicated, astonishing, and even chillingly bizarre than people imagined.

When Mo Wenjin's men broke down the door, Ding Xiabing had already injected herself with a dangerously high dose of anesthetic.

Ding Xiabing, who was no longer able to think rationally and was in a coma with no ability to protect herself, ran into the ruthless and desperate Mo Wenjin. It was like a helpless lamb encountering a mad wolf.

The consequences were predictable.

Mo Wenjin, who had been suppressing his anger and intending to have a proper talk with Ding Xiabing, completely lost control the moment he saw the mentally unstable Ding Xiabing. Coupled with the escalating online public opinion and the relentless approach of death's guillotine, the fear of imminent execution and the anger of being betrayed by his plaything surged up. All of this prompted the powerless Mo Wenjin to commit an inhumane act of sexual/abuse against the extremely weak Ding Xiabing.

He was venting his anger.

He strangled Ding Xiabing with a rough rope and, in front of a group of bodyguards, used the rear-entry position.

This is a very humiliating and animalistic pose.

In pornography, it might be called "fun" or "sentiment," and it can ignite passion and desire between lovers. However, it can also destroy the mental and physical well-being of a rape victim.

That was an atrocity, the most inhumane and malicious attack, a hellish torture and burning.

Perhaps, Ding Xiabing gradually stopped breathing amidst that kind of violence.

Mo Wenjin's eyes turned red, and he lost his mind. He simply couldn't understand how such a bitch! A plaything! A toy he had worn out! A penniless ant! How dare he, how dare he resist him! How dare he take photos of her secretly!

This is far from enough, this punishment is not enough, he wants to send this slut to hell! He wants her to pay the price for betraying him!

Mo Wenjin grinned almost maniacally as he got off Ding Xiabing, then beckoned to the bodyguards who were watching.

The bodyguards looked at each other, none of them making the first move, yet they saw lust in each other's murky, dark eyes.

That young starlet trapped in bed is so beautiful...

Although he was a man, he was like an alluring flower bud without any thorns, quietly waiting for everyone to come and pluck him.

"Once an individual becomes a member of a group, he no longer bears corresponding responsibility for his actions, and at this point everyone will reveal his unrestrained side."

The anonymity within a group makes them eager to indulge their instincts, and then completely lose their moral restraint.

They conspired together without prior agreement.

They may know that Ding Xiabing has stopped breathing, but they pretend not to.

Some of them are married, some are in a passionate relationship with their girlfriends, and some already have a well-behaved and adorable daughter.

They are seen as good husbands, good fathers, good men, and good brothers by their family and friends.

But at this moment, those hidden among the crowd are a mob, walking corpses committing atrocities against their own kind.

—The photos that the unscrupulous media released were of Ding Xiabing after she was raped/dead.

At the time, the audacious paparazzi hid on the balcony, concealed by the curtains, and risked his life to take these two photos. He then sold the photos to a media company for a high price of 100,000 yuan. They wanted to profit from people's suffering, so of course they had to expose the photos.

Their selling point is that the photos are clear and authentic, without any obstruction.

Two photos for 100,000 yuan, that's really expensive.

But when it comes to the dignity and respect of someone who was indirectly tortured to death, 100,000 yuan seems far too cheap.

Can that kind of thing really be measured in money?

He Xun didn't know.

Upon receiving news of Ding Xiabing's death, he felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness and powerlessness engulf him.

He once again wavered in his belief in his actions.

Was he... right?

If he hadn't appeared, could Ding Xiabing have barely lived a few more years? At least... wouldn't his death have been more dignified?

Without him, Ding Xiabing's photos wouldn't be all over the internet. She might have died a lonely and miserable death, but at least she would have had some dignity.

Why didn't anyone tell him that people actually die in melodramatic novels?

Ding Xiabing is only 22 years old, still in college, and only three years older than Jian Ye. He is so young, he may not have ever had a passionate love affair. He said he doesn't like men. If he could, he might date a popular young actress, or there might be other possibilities. He has such a beautiful face, he shouldn't have such a terrible ending.

Ironically, his misfortune stemmed precisely from his excessively handsome face.

What was Ding Xiabing thinking when she made that last phone call to herself?

He didn't know Ding Xiabing well enough. He didn't know if Ding Xiabing genuinely loved acting or if she was forced to do it for a living.

He hadn't had a chance to ask Ding Xiabing about her future plans—whether she would retire from the entertainment industry to live a simple and happy life, or continue to roam the glamorous and decadent world of fame and fortune.

In the split second before he stopped breathing while being strangled, what lingered in his mind was either the flower cakes his grandmother made deep in the mountains, or his fleeting experience in the entertainment industry.

Thinking about all this, He Xun felt as if something had suddenly clenched his heart, making it hard for him to breathe.

So... that dream was a sign that Ding Xiabing was saying her final goodbye to him.

Staring at the screen full of noise, He Xun thought of a minor celebrity who was also exposed in a sex scandal some time ago, which also caused quite a stir on the internet.

However, the opposing side's rhetoric lasted for less than an hour.

Because the minor celebrity had a powerful patron, a background that ordinary people could only dream of, and countless connections, he was not affected in any way.

The media reporters were also very perceptive; not one of them was blind enough to dare to make a fuss about it.

Even when scandals that are detrimental to him are exposed, he is still a precious treasure held in the palm of his fans' hands, the softest and most dazzling flower in a greenhouse, and a special figure whom the public dares not speak out against.

This is the difference between people; he knew long ago that there would never be any justice in this world.

This is a melodramatic novel, not a fairy tale, so there's no Cinderella-slapping scene where a prince comes to the rescue.

Many people are using the internet as a shield to perpetuate victimhood narratives. They accuse Ding Xiabing of being weak, of lacking mental fortitude, and of injecting himself with excessive amounts of drugs.

But it seems everyone has forgotten that death is the act that requires the most courage.

Moreover, perhaps for Ding Xiabing, death is the best painkiller.

Therefore, although He Xun was saddened, he did not comment on Ding Xiabing's final choice.

That was Ding Xiabing's own choice. No one has experienced his pain, and therefore no one can judge his actions.

No, nobody.

......

"Brother Xun, don't be too sad... He's gone, but we who are still alive have to look forward, right?"

At the barbecue stall, Song Liuguang opened a bottle of beer and, unusually cautiously, glanced at He Xun's expression as he spoke.

The streetlights flashed with colorful lights, and the bustling atmosphere of the city was filled with the lively smoke and fireworks, but the atmosphere at their table was somber.

He Xun smiled faintly: "I'm not sad. He's free now, and I'm happy for him."

"What are you so happy about!" Song Liuguang rolled her eyes and mercilessly exposed her. "Do you even believe that yourself? Why don't you look in the mirror? Look at your dark circles, they're practically drooping to the ground!"

"......"

He Xun stopped talking and silently downed a glass of wine.

Seeing him like this, Song Liuguang felt bad too. Although he wasn't that close to Ding Xiabing, he knew that Ding Xiabing was one of the few actors in the industry who wouldn't look down on people.

Such a good person... just gone like that...

A complex mix of emotions welled up inside them, and the two became increasingly silent, with only the sounds of opening and pouring wine echoing between them.

After an unknown amount of time, Song Liuguang suddenly raised his head, stared at He Xun, and said, "I know what you're thinking right now."

"What?" He Xun chuckled, seemingly a little incredulous.

Song Liuguang curled his lips into a smile that was hard to decipher—was it sarcasm or something else? "Don't you just think you're partly responsible for his death?"

He Xun paused, his dark eyes flashing under the bright lights.

Seeing this, Song Liuguang knew that he might have guessed correctly.

"He Xun, you can't think like that." He took a deep breath, gripping the bottle tightly, his voice hoarse from the alcohol, and said with a sad smile, "If even... even you think like that, what will become of this world..."

He Xun's jaw tightened, and his five fingers gripping the wine glass suddenly tightened. A cold sensation pressed against his palm and shot into his heart like an electric current.

He said, "I can't control this world."

Song Liuguang's eyes were bloodshot as he stared unblinkingly at He Xun: "The police investigation report is very clear. He had already injected himself with an excessive dose of drugs, which is enough to show that he wanted to commit suicide back then. It has nothing to do with you. And think about it, even without you, how long do you think he could have survived under Mo Wenjin? Don't deceive yourself. You and I both know that his mental state... had already collapsed the moment he got involved with Mo Wenjin."

"......"

It had already collapsed.

yes.

A deep sense of self-mockery flashed across He Xun's eyes.

Even without him, Ding Xiabing would still die in the end.

There's nothing he can do.

*

In the middle of the night, He Xun took the unconscious Song Liuguang home and then went to the flower shop.

The flower shop was about to close, but fortunately the owner was kind-hearted. During their conversation, she learned that he wanted to buy flowers for the cemetery, so she worked overtime to wrap a bouquet for him.

The cemetery is in a very remote suburb, where Ding Xiabing will rest in peace.

The pure and solemn lilies and chrysanthemums swayed in the night breeze, as if Ding Xiabing were waving goodbye to him once again.

The internet is still in an uproar.

But no matter how the living discuss or judge, all of this is no longer relevant to the deceased or Ding Xiabing.

They were judging nothing but a decaying body; they were peering at nothing but a cold, soulless tombstone.

Because Ding Xiabing has gone to heaven.

He Xun stood tall and elegant, silently standing in the dark night for a long time until his limbs stiffened. Then he bent down and gently stroked the young face on the tombstone with the back of his hand.

"good evening."