Chapter Twenty-Four: The Mastermind Behind the Scenes

That night, Yin Nian sat alone on the balcony for a long time, lost in deep and meticulous thought.

The sudden fainting spell she had experienced did not plunge her into confusion or doubt; on the contrary, it strengthened her resolve.

To outsiders, Yin Nian’s collapse seemed to confirm Yuan Yi’s assertions—it indicated that her mental state was unstable and lent credence to the idea that she might have fainted after hitting someone, subsequently succumbing to selective amnesia.

But for Yin Nian herself, the episode provided a vivid, authentic experience. Now she understood exactly what it meant to faint. Through this personal ordeal, she became even more certain that on the mountain road that day, she had neither blacked out nor lost her memory selectively. She simply hadn’t seen the entire picture. Her eyes had been partially blinded by reality, and a string of coincidences had impacted her perception, triggering a cascade of misfortunes.

Tonight, an unusual calmness had settled over Yin Nian. She deliberately stepped outside her habitual ways of thinking and tried to view the entire affair from a higher vantage point.

Was it possible—just possible—that the footage Liang Zhicheng had seen was genuine, that Yangyang’s account was also true, and that neither of them had lied? That she had indeed hit Old Lady Yang, but before the collision, the old woman had already lain badly injured and unconscious in the road?

Based on all the information currently gathered, not only was this scenario possible, it was highly likely.

If that were the case, then everyone’s statements and perspectives could be traced backward accordingly.

First, herself. She believed she hadn’t hit Old Lady Yang because, that morning, the scene was shrouded in mist, the front seat offered a higher vantage point, and everything happened so suddenly that she simply didn’t see clearly. Yangyang, on the other hand, sat in the back, gazing out the window, and naturally saw the entire process as the car hit the old woman.

The difference in their recollections stemmed primarily from their differing perspectives, and secondarily from a child’s instinctive tendency to exaggerate in the face of sudden crisis. In essence, they hadn’t witnessed vastly different events. Of course, a single discrepancy in detail could lead to entirely different conclusions. And that crucial detail was this: before the impact, Old Lady Yang was already lying in the road, gravely injured and unconscious.

Next, Liang Zhicheng. By the same logic, the dashcam footage he viewed was shaped by its own limited perspective. The car was moving too quickly, the sudden braking, the obscuring mist—all in a matter of seconds—made it almost impossible to discern what had truly happened. The dashcam likely captured the moment Yin Nian’s car struck the old woman, but, owing to the fog, did not clearly record that she had already been lying on the ground before the collision. That’s why Liang Zhicheng believed Yin Nian had run someone over, and in his panic, deleted the footage.

Lastly, Dr. Yuan Yi, the psychologist. The hypnosis session hadn’t actually recovered Yin Nian’s memories; it merely helped her recall a few details of the accident she had overlooked. First: Old Lady Yang was already lying in the road, injured, before the crash. Second: during the sudden braking, Yin Nian had struck her head on the steering wheel, sustaining a wound on her forehead. Third: when she got out to check on the old woman, she mistakenly assumed the woman was dead, was terrified, and collapsed onto the ground in shock.

From a psychological standpoint, these three details might explain her emotional turmoil and the blow to her head, resulting in selective amnesia of the collision itself. There was some logic to this interpretation. Yet it was also a preconceived, unilateral explanation—internally consistent, but not seamlessly fitting every detail. This explained why, while Yuan Yi’s account had seemed convincing at the time, on reflection, Yin Nian had felt something was deeply amiss.

Analyzed from a higher perspective, the statements of these three principal participants all aligned with their own experiences. None had lied; they had simply told the truth as they perceived it.

This, then, was a case of situational bias born from differing points of view.

If Liang Zhicheng, Yangyang, and Yuan Yi had all told the truth, then why had events spiraled to this point? Who was meddling behind the scenes, who was fanning the flames, and who was truly pulling the strings?

What was the story behind the bloody towel?

How had Old Lady Yang come to be lying gravely injured in the mountain road?

After she was hospitalized, why had her throat been injured, and why did she seem so desperate to escape?

Why, when her condition had initially stabilized, did she repeatedly suffer relapses? Who was provoking her?

After Yin Nian calmly compiled and analyzed all these questions, they all pointed to a single target: Old Lady Yang’s three children—or more precisely, Yang Yongli.

According to Han Duoduo's investigation, although Yang Yongli was the youngest son, he held the most sway. Both Yang Yonggui and Yang Yongfang deferred to him, partly because he had been successful and often helped them, but also because he was shrewd, ruthless, and had earned their trust.

It was obvious that Yang Yongli would not let slip such a perfect opportunity for easy profit. It was highly likely that everything Old Lady Yang had said had been orchestrated—or even coerced—by him.

Her throat injuries and recurring illness might all have been engineered by Yang Yongli, with the goal of increasing the chances of winning the lawsuit, and thereby maximizing the compensation.

Two million in cash was no trivial sum. Even for someone as well-connected as Yang Yongli, in a small county town, it would not be easy to come by. Taking risks for money was precisely what someone like him would do.

Yu Weiran’s legal team might not commit perjury, but Yang Yongli certainly would. That bloody towel was very likely his handiwork.

Therefore, Yin Nian realized that her investigation should focus not on Liang Zhicheng, Yangyang, or Yuan Yi, but on Yang Yongli. Previously, she had been blinded by the fog of reality and had focused too much on what was right in front of her, overlooking the man in the shadows orchestrating everything—Yang Yongli.

Now, at last, Yin Nian understood.

So, what should she do next?

Yin Nian drew a deep breath and gazed at the night sky. Black clouds rolled overhead, but at the western edge of the heavens, a single star still shone. Its light was faint, but not yet swallowed by the darkness. It did not yield, stubborn and patient, awaiting the arrival of clear skies when it could burst forth in brilliance.

This star, on the verge of being consumed by darkness, was like Yin Nian herself at that moment.

She exhaled slowly, rose, and returned to the bedroom, intending to find a notebook and record her thoughts.

As she rummaged around, Liang Zhicheng awoke and asked softly, “What are you looking for?”

Yin Nian retrieved a blue notebook with a combination lock from the storage box. “Just something to jot down my thoughts tonight,” she said. “Go back to sleep.”

Liang Zhicheng squinted at her, but said nothing more.

Yin Nian returned to the balcony and, under the faint starlight, opened her brand-new notebook.

A new notebook signified a new beginning, filled with hope, conviction, and the promise of a fresh counterattack.

She opened to the first page and listed every person involved in Old Lady Yang’s accident, building a relationship map centered on herself and Yang Yongli, noting each individual's circumstances.

In the bedroom, Liang Zhicheng opened his eyes slightly to see Yin Nian seated in the wicker chair on the balcony, writing ceaselessly in the dark.

In the stillness of the night, the soft, persistent rustle of her pen gliding across the paper lingered on and on.