The boy who loved me more than anyone else in the world was dead.
His name was Jiang Yan. He was a police officer, stabbed seven times by a rich second-generation heir while trying to save a girl from domestic abuse.
Afterward, the girl tearfully claimed that Jiang Yan had molested her, and that was why her boyfriend had stabbed him.
The killer even got off scot-free with a psychiatric evaluation declaring him mentally ill.
As I stared at their faces, I suddenly laughed.
A psychiatric evaluation, huh?
What a coincidence.
I had one too.