Chapter Sixty-Four: The Black Package

Over the next two days, Yin Nian experienced a continuous stream of new sensations. Of course, with Liang Zhicheng’s departure, she couldn’t help but feel a tinge of loss and sorrow. Yet she accepted her emotions calmly, without resistance, and in doing so, found genuine peace.

Her communication with Yangyang also grew smoother. As she made the effort to truly understand and care for him, Yangyang, after an initial period of indifference, began to respond to her in his own way.

Yin Nian started to learn how to cook and manage household chores. She took pleasure in the daily routine of picking Yangyang up from school. She met a new friend, Xu Lei, and together they shared coffee and discussed issues of child-rearing. She was expanding her social circle, striving to meet new people and absorb fresh knowledge.

She ate well, slept soundly, and even forgot that her court case was only two days away. She was so immersed in these experiences, which felt like a new beginning, that every minute and every second seemed imbued with wonder.

That afternoon, as Yin Nian tidied the house, she prepared to gather some of Liang Zhicheng’s belongings. She meant to set them aside so that once everything was settled at the police station, he could simply retrieve his things and finalize their divorce.

Outside, the sky was overcast, a fine drizzle falling. A cool wind blew in waves, and the violets on her windowsill, after several days of blooming, began to wilt.

While sorting clothes, Yin Nian inadvertently discovered a black bundle hidden at the bottom of the wardrobe, conspicuously placed among the garments. She pulled it out and set it on the bed. For reasons she couldn’t explain, a chill ran through her as she gazed at the pitch-black package—whether from the draft or from a pang of anxiety, she could not tell.

After some hesitation, Yin Nian opened the bundle. Inside was a black wooden box and two sealed envelopes.

She took out the wooden box first. When she opened it, she found a delicate blue-leather notebook inside.

Yin Nian recognized it immediately. It was the birthday gift Liang Zhicheng had given her last year. The notebook was dual-purpose: one page for writing, the next for drawing. The alternating pages were of different thickness and material, ingeniously designed, a testament to fine craftsmanship. It came with a set of watercolor pens and drawing markers.

She had loved it at first sight but stored it away, preserving it as a keepsake.

Now, holding the notebook, she recalled a recent night spent in contemplation on the balcony. That night, as dawn neared, she had retrieved the notebook from her bedroom and recorded her realizations, listing everyone involved in the “Granny Yang” accident case. Using herself and Yang Yongli as the center, she drew a relationship diagram connecting all the relevant figures.

And it was this very notebook she had used.

She also remembered placing it in her suitcase and bringing it to Baxian. On the night Han Duoduo fled the hotel, she had secretly opened Yin Nian’s suitcase, leafed through the notebook, and even asked her a few peculiar questions…

So why had the notebook turned up inside this black bundle? When had she put it there? She had no recollection whatsoever.

Yin Nian turned the notebook over in her hands, a vague unease stirring within her. It felt as though she was about to open not an ordinary notebook, but a Pandora’s box harboring a demon waiting to be unleashed.

She hesitated. She couldn’t explain why she felt so reluctant, or why such unease gripped her. Everything was supposed to be resolved now—the truth exposed, the dust settled, and victory hers. And yet, the sudden appearance of this black bundle unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

Outside, rain fell steadily, the sky growing even gloomier. Cool gusts swept through, and violet leaves scattered from the balcony.

Yin Nian tossed the notebook onto the bed, hugging her arms tightly as she stared at it. After a while, she picked it up again, gently caressing its blue cover. A familiar sensation tingled at her fingertips, as if a peculiar energy seeped from between the pages and coursed through her.

She felt something restless awaken inside her, like a beast long caged, yearning for release.

Suddenly, with a loud gust, the wind intensified, blowing a garment from the balcony onto the floor—a gray robe she had worn during that long, contemplative night.

She picked it up and draped it over her shoulders, then glanced at the teal wicker chair in the balcony’s corner.

She sat down.

Blue-leather notebook, gray robe, teal wicker chair.

The sky was black as ink, cold wind swirling. This moment mirrored that long night so perfectly, it was as if she had never stood up—as if she had always been sitting here.

The sensation was eerie and unsettling.

She heard the ticking of a second hand—clear, rhythmic, echoing near and far.

Just then, a black crow flitted past the balcony, letting out a harsh, guttural cry.

Yin Nian drew a deep breath and opened the notebook.

On the first page was indeed a relationship diagram, detailing all those involved in the Granny Yang case. But the second page contained rough sketches, the handwriting messy yet the outlines discernible.

There were four figures: Yang Yongli, Han Duoduo, Liang Zhicheng, and herself.

The sketches looked somewhere between comic doodles and casual graffiti—simple lines, names marked, their general features captured.

They felt both foreign and familiar; the handwriting seemed hers, yet she couldn’t remember ever drawing them.

At the bottom of the page was a date: August 22nd.

That was the day she’d met with Dr. Yuan Yi, her psychotherapist, and the very night she’d sat up thinking on the balcony.

She turned to the third page, which was blank.

Then to the fourth, another drawing page, where four more simple sketches were rendered in the same hand.

The first showed her sitting in an SUV with binoculars, observing something.

The second depicted her in black sportswear, entering Crescent Community to scout the area.

The third showed her checking into the Lantian Hotel, lying on the bed and watching through binoculars.

The fourth, through binoculars, showed Yang Yongli wrestling on a bed with a woman.

At the bottom, again, the date: August 22nd. And after it, a large, somewhat distorted number: 1.

Yin Nian frowned, sensing something amiss.

She remembered that the first time she’d surveilled Yang Yongli was the night of August 23rd.

If these four sketches were drawn on August 22nd, why did they so closely mirror the events of August 23rd? Moreover, the number “1” after the date seemed familiar, as though she had seen it somewhere before.

She pondered, and then it struck her—cards!

She hurriedly searched her pockets and pulled out the three cards she’d found earlier: light blue, pale yellow, and purple-red, all oval-shaped, each bearing a twisted, bold number: 1, 2, 3.

When she’d first found them, they had evoked a sense of déjà vu. Now she remembered—they were the drawing markers that Liang Zhicheng had given her with the notebook last year.

Each card corresponded to a drawing, the colors signifying different emotions—a kind of special code.

She recalled finding the first card at the entrance to Crescent Community, just before her initial scouting. The card bore the number 1, matching the first drawing in the notebook.

And that first drawing was nearly identical to what she’d experienced that night.

What did it all mean?

The more she considered it, the less she understood. Still, she sensed that these events were all connected, and that the thread linking them together was hidden within this notebook.

Yin Nian raised her head and gazed out the window.

The sky had grown even darker, the world outside shrouded in shadow. Though it was daytime, it felt as black as night.

Suddenly, the rain intensified, drumming against the windowpane.

A gust of wind scattered violet petals from their stems, and they fluttered to the floor at Yin Nian’s feet.