Seeing Big Brother approach with a kitchen knife, Second Brother Zheng hesitated, saying, “Big Brother, are we really doing this?”
“What, you’re getting cold feet like Third Brother? Second Brother, we didn’t even cover our faces. She knows it’s us. If we let her go, we’re the ones who’ll die!”
“Think about it—since she came back, what have we suffered? What have we lost? Even our mother died.”
When their mother was alive, the three brothers lived carefree, lavish lives.
With her gone, they were nothing.
Hearing Zheng Yifan’s words, Second Brother hurriedly said, “Big Brother, I’m not backing out. But we don’t need to use a knife. Just throw her into the sea. Her hands and feet are bound—she can’t escape.”
“The deep sea is full of fish. She’ll be eaten quickly, leaving no trace. It’s better than us using a knife.”
The truth was, none of them had ever killed.
They’d done bad things, but never murder.
Zheng Yifan said coldly, “I don’t want her to die quickly. That’s too easy for her. She needs to suffer.”
“You two are useless.”
Zheng Yifan raised the knife in one hand and, with the other, grabbed Feng Qing’s chin again, demanding, “Feng Qing, I’ll ask one last time: what’s the password?”
“I’ll count to three. If you don’t talk, don’t blame me for being ruthless. I’ll make your death excruciating.”
Feng Qing stared at him coldly, her lips trembling but silent.
Zheng Yifan, furious that she remained defiant even at death’s door, closed his eyes and swung the knife.
“Ah!”
Feng Qing cried out in pain.
The knife didn’t sever her arm. She rolled aside, and Zheng Yifan, though determined, was scared and didn’t want to kill her with one strike. The force was light, and the knife only slashed a long gash across her right arm.
The pain made Feng Qing scream.
Blood flowed, quickly soaking her sleeve.
The cold sea breeze already had her shivering, and now, with pain and cold sweat, her lips grew paler.
Zheng Yifan opened his eyes, and the knife fell from his hand.
Second and Third Brother had closed their eyes, unable to watch.
Hearing her cry, they quickly looked.
Seeing her arm bleeding but intact, they sighed in relief but instinctively stepped back.
After the knife hit the ground, Third Brother took two steps forward, urgently pleading, “A-Qing, speak! Hurry, or Big Brother’s next swing won’t just graze your arm.”
Feng Qing seemed too pained to speak.
Zheng Yifan, regaining his composure, said, “Feng Qing, since I’ve swung once, I can swing a second and third time. If you don’t want to die in agony, talk.”
Feng Qing rolled on the ground.
Her brothers thought she was writhing in pain.
They watched coldly.
But Feng Qing was rolling away from the knife.
Fang Yao, leading a group with police trailing behind, was closing in.
Their cars had stopped far off, engines off.
They avoided getting closer to prevent their headlights from alerting the Zheng brothers, fearing they’d panic or, in desperation, kill her to take her down with them before Fang Yao could reach her.
Zheng Yifan’s first attempt at murder left her arm wounded, and the knife fell.
Feng Qing rolled farther away. If they wanted to strike again, they’d need to pick up the knife and chase her, buying a few minutes.
That gave Fang Yao enough time to save her.
Her goal was to get injured, not to lose her life.
