Chapter 6 — When He Believes the Outsiders

Sharp fingernails tore into his skin, leaving a deep, bleeding gash across his cheek.

Do not dare call me your mother!

The voice of the woman who birthed him was desolate and hollow. I do not have a son who is a cold-blooded murderer! You tied your own sister to a metal pole and scorched her alive under the searing sun, yet you still have the audacity to call me mother?

Her father stood a few paces away, pointing a trembling finger at the man’s face, his voice raspy and choked with grief. Since you were children, you were jealous because Wan’s health was fragile, always convinced we favored her. You constantly targeted her, using your twisted concept of fairness to torment her. We truly believed that once you reached adulthood, you would grow up and understand. We ensured every cent for food, clothing, and living expenses was divided equally between you both! To Lam, you do not deserve forgiveness!

No… that is not how it was… I only wanted what was best for her…

To Lam shook his head frantically in desperation. Tears mixed with his blood, falling in thick droplets onto the floor. His cries of agony and regret echoed endlessly between the cold, iron-barred walls of the interrogation room. I drifted in the air above, watching the entire scene unfold. Once, a single mocking word from this man was enough to make me feel so inferior I could never raise my head. I had spent my life crushing my own pain, doing everything to accommodate his sick, distorted obsession with equality. I only ever wished he could be like other brothers, just once, to reach out and pat my hair. But now, watching him weep in this bottomless abyss, my heart—long since silenced—felt not even a single ripple of pity. He finally saw himself for the monster he truly was, but for me, it was too late. I was already gone.

A police officer stepped forward, forcefully ushering my shattered parents out of the room. The moment the heavy iron door slammed shut, the final link between To Lam and this family was severed forever. The lead detective sat back down, pulled a folder from his desk, and slid it coldly across the table.

To Lam, save your belated tears, the officer commanded. The prosecutor’s office has officially charged you with intentional injury resulting in death.

He tapped the table, his voice sounding like a judge delivering a death sentence. The trial begins in three days. Prepare yourself to face the final verdict. But before that...

The officer paused, his eyes sharp as he stared into the man’s soul. To ensure you do not attempt to recant your testimony, we have recovered a ten-minute recording from the cloud backup of Chu Man.

Inside the courtroom, the grating sound of the recording echoed through the silent chamber.

Coach, Wan is just pretending. I saw her sneakily applying sunscreen yesterday. If you go soft on her this time, how are you going to manage the team in the future? Chu Man’s voice sounded like a viper flicking its tongue. Immediately following was the cold, venomous reply from To Lam: Rest assured. Today, I am going to tie her to that flagpole and leave her in the sun until she kneels and begs for forgiveness before everyone. I will shatter every wretched bone in her body for her penchant for theatrics!

The ten-minute recording became the most lethal evidence in the trial. The gallery erupted in a chaotic murmur. I floated above, watching To Lam collapse into the defendant's chair, his face ashen. The judge’s gavel struck the wood with a thunderous finality, the weight of the sentence echoing through the halls.

Defendant To Lam, as the head coach in charge of military training, you abused your authority, ignored the victim’s critical health condition, and utilized inhumane methods of corporal punishment, leading to multi-organ failure and death. The charge of intentional injury resulting in death is upheld. You are sentenced to life imprisonment with the permanent stripping of all political rights!

Defendant Chu Man, for the satisfaction of personal spite, you fabricated facts over a long period, maliciously instigated abuse, and deliberately sabotaged the victim’s sunscreen. As an accomplice, given the grave nature of your actions, you are sentenced to ten years in prison!

As the judge finished, a heavy thud resonated through the room. Chu Man collapsed to the floor, wailing hysterically. No! I am only eighteen! I cannot go to prison! Wan was just a useless burden! If she had to die, she died—why should I have to pay with ten years of my life?

Judicial police immediately stepped in to restrain her. Ahead of her lay long, sunless years behind bars and a lifetime of societal rejection upon her release. Compared to the frantic hysterics of Chu Man, To Lam seemed as if the very breath of life had been drained from him. He did not claim innocence, nor did he resist; he simply stared vacantly at my photograph projected on the large screen. In the picture, I was wearing an old, faded shirt from middle school, my eyes cast downward, carrying a sorrow that could never be dispelled. It was the only gift he had ever bought me with his first paycheck. Now, he himself had burned me along with that very shirt, leaving me a charred, rotting corpse under the unforgiving sun. The trial concluded. The officers moved in to take him away.