And then ca the final blow.
Another video surfaced.
This one showed Luo Bing—Hua Jing’s assistant at the ti—eting secretly with Mao Li in a quiet café shortly before the accident a year ago. The footage, combined with financial records that mysteriously appeared online, revealed a series of suspicious transactions between them.
Within hours, Luo Bing was arrested.
By the ti the police moved to formally detain Hua Ling and Mao Li again, the public already believed them guilty.
The day of their arrest turned into a spectacle.
Outside the courthouse, reporters crowded the streets so densely that police barricades had to be erected just to maintain order. Cara flashes erupted constantly as vehicles arrived under heavy escort.
When Hua Ling was finally escorted out of the police car, the crowd erupted into shouting.
"Miss Hua! Did you plan your sister’s accident?"
"Did you bury her alive?"
"Do you have anything to say to the public?"
The woman stepping onto the pavent looked nothing like the glamorous socialite people had once admired.
Hua Ling had always been known for her flawless appearance—perfect hair, immaculate makeup, designer clothing that made her seem untouchable.
Now she looked almost unrecognizable.
Her hair was disheveled, her face bare and pale under the harsh sunlight. Dark circles frad her eyes, and the elegant composure she once carried had been replaced by sothing brittle and exhausted.
The caras captured everything.
Every strained movent.
Every flicker of panic in her eyes.
Behind her, Mao Li was escorted out as well.
Once the confident head of a powerful entertainnt company, he now looked hollow and defeated. His suit hung loosely on his fra, his once carefully styled hair now ssy and unkempt.
He avoided looking at the caras entirely.
But the reporters did not stop shouting.
Questions rained down from every direction.
"Did you try to kill Hua Jing?"
"Were you responsible for the kidnapping in Silian Forest?"
"Do you regret what you did?"
Neither of them answered.
They were pushed quickly through the courthouse doors under heavy guard, but the damage was already irreversible.
Across the city, screens replayed the footage again and again.
Every television station carried it. Every online platform circulated it relentlessly. What had begun as a controlled release of evidence quickly transford into sothing far larger than even the dia frenzy that had surrounded Hua Jing’s rescue. The videos and audio recordings spread through the city like wildfire, shared from phone to phone, screen to screen, until it felt as though no one could escape them.
People watched them everywhere.
On crowded subway trains where commuters leaned closer to their phones, replaying the chilling audio clip again and again. In cafés where strangers began discussing the scandal with people they had never spoken to before. In office break rooms where employees gathered around tablets and televisions, disbelief written plainly across their faces.
The most haunting part for many was not even the footage itself.
It was the voices.
Hua Ling’s calm, almost casual tone as she discussed eliminating Hua Jing had unsettled people deeply. There had been no hesitation in her voice, no sign of internal struggle. She had spoken about the accident the way soone might speak about rearranging a business plan.
And that was what terrified people the most.
In a small noodle shop near the city center, a group of custors had gathered around the mounted television as the recording played once more. The reporter’s voice narrated the evidence while the audio clip echoed through the room.
One man shook his head slowly, setting down his chopsticks.
"I knew they had disagreents," he said quietly, "but this... this is sothing else entirely."
Another custor leaned forward, staring at the screen with a mixture of shock and revulsion. "I heard Hua Ling had at least two assistants working closely with her for years," she said, her voice lowered instinctively as though speaking about sothing forbidden. "But the way she talks about Hua Jing... planning to kill her like that... it sends chills down my spine."
Conversations like that unfolded all across the city.
Online, the reaction was even more explosive.
Comnt sections flooded with ssages within minutes of the evidence being released.
Many of Hua Ling’s longti supporters found themselves unable to defend her anymore. They had admired her elegance, her business acun, the polished public image she had maintained for years. But the recordings had torn that image apart completely.
"I used to admire her," one comnt read. "But I cannot support a murderer."
Another user wrote, "Planning soone’s death like it’s a business deal? That’s terrifying. I’m done being her fan."
Yet not everyone abandoned her imdiately.
So supporters remained fiercely loyal, insisting the recordings had been manipulated or taken out of context.
"This is clearly a sar campaign," one person posted angrily. "Soone is trying to destroy Hua Ling’s reputation."
Another wrote, "We don’t know the full story. Anyone can edit audio these days!"
But even those voices sounded weaker as more evidence surfaced.
Because amidst all the argunts and speculation, there was one group whose response stood out above the rest.
Hua Jing’s fans.
For years they had admired her not only for her talent but for her quiet dignity and warmth. Many of them had followed her career since the earliest days, celebrating her achievents and mourning the sudden tragedy that had left her in a coma a year earlier.
Now, as the truth unfolded piece by piece, their emotions spilled out across every platform.
"I can’t believe this happened to her," one fan wrote. "All this ti we thought it was just an accident."
Another comnt read, "She could have died and no one would have known the truth. That’s the scariest part."
Thousands of ssages poured in expressing sympathy, anger, and overwhelming relief that she had survived.
"She must have been so scared."
"I hope she recovers completely."
"We love you, Hua Jing. Stay strong."
So fans even gathered outside the hospital where she had been treated, leaving flowers and handwritten letters of support. The bouquets grew so nurous that hospital staff had to clear space near the entrance just to manage them all.
The city had spoken.
And the law followed soon after.
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