## Chapter 6: I Want to Slap Him, But I'm Afraid He'd Enjoy It
Five years ago, Cloud City was rocked by a sensational news story.
Famous painter Meng Wenjin had hanged herself at home, leaving behind a suicide note accusing her husband Jiang Weimin of serial infidelity and callous disregard for human life. The note claimed he had fabricated false news stories for money and slandered Johnson family patriarch Johnson Yihong!
When the news broke, the entire city was in an uproar!
This was no ordinary scandal—the people involved were all too famous!
Johnson Yihong, patriarch of the Johnson family, was a self-made legend! A well-known entrepreneur and philanthropist whose name was on everyone's lips!
Meng Wenjin had been acclaimed as the youngest and most talented famous painter, whose artwork—both in composition and concept—could only be described as extraordinary!
But all of this paled in comparison to the explosive content of that suicide note!
Because Jiang Weimin had been a renowned journalist!
He wielded his pen like a knife, daring to speak and write the truth. He was so daring, in fact, that several assassination orders had been placed on him!
Single-handedly, he had helped over a hundred people who had nowhere else to turn for justice, from workers with unpaid wages to others in need of assistance!
If there was no evidence, he would dig for it!
If he couldn't find it, he would dig deeper!
Disguising himself, entering the tiger's den, until he brought one truth after another to light!
Such a man had once been an idol and hero in the eyes of many!
But this time, the idol's filter shattered.
It turned out the hero was only in it for the money.
It turned out his previous news articles had all been fake! Fake!
Overnight, Jiang Weimin went from being universally admired to universally despised!
Perhaps knowing his reputation was ruined, he disappeared to who knows where, and there was no further news of him afterward.
Rumors said he had absconded with money and a new lover, and was still living a comfortable life somewhere...
Cheng Zheng had initially believed this too, which is why the case was quickly closed, with almost no one questioning it further.
Until one day after work, someone blocked his path on his way home.
The person who stopped him was a young woman who had just turned eighteen, strikingly beautiful, with an unyielding stubbornness on her face. In a voice that trembled despite her best efforts to control it, she told him—
"My mother didn't commit suicide. She was strangled to death."
"The suicide note was forged. That wasn't her handwriting."
"My father didn't have a new lover, nor did he run off with money. He's dead, killed by the Johnson family. No one knows where his body is except the murderer..."
That was Jane at eighteen.
Naive, innocent, and fragile.
Cheng Zheng remembered staying silent for a long while before responding, "But you have no evidence."
Jane had stared at him steadily then, without the breakdown or hysteria Cheng Zheng had expected. She didn't beg him, as a victim's family member, to help her or reinvestigate the case.
She only said one thing:
"I will find the evidence."
Then she left, with a look in her eyes that showed a desperate determination.
Cheng Zheng's eyelid twitched, and he anxiously grabbed her arm. "What are you going to do?"
The eighteen-year-old Jane slowly pulled away from his hand. There were tears in her eyes, but they didn't fall. Instead, she laughed loudly, as if making a vow: "I will find the evidence. I definitely will."
After that, he heard Jane had left the country.
Cheng Zheng thought that as time dulled everything, or once the young girl came to terms with reality herself, she would gradually accept the truth.
But Jane's words that day kept circling in Cheng Zheng's mind.
On yet another sleepless night, he sat quietly for a long time before finally reaching out to reopen the dust-covered case file.
Unfortunately, five years had passed with no results.
Cheng Zheng smiled bitterly as he rubbed his face and lit another cigarette.
At his feet lay a floor covered with cigarette butts.
...
Upon returning home, Jane immediately went online to search for information about the auction house. Sure enough, there were already rumors circulating.
But as Cheng Zheng had said, this auction house was extremely high-end, so exclusive that only specific people were invited. Others had no chance of getting in.
Not to mention the exorbitant starting prices—it was entirely a game for the wealthy elite.
Jane stared intently at a secretly taken photo on the page. The image was blurry, and the photographer had only captured a hidden corner beneath a red cloth.
But Jane could recognize it at a glance—this was her mother's painting.
"Moongazing Terrace." Outsiders always thought it had some profound, mysterious meaning and enjoyed speculating about the deeper significance behind the artwork.
But in truth, the painting didn't have much special meaning at all.
Jane closed her computer and went into the bathroom.
Five years ago, the last message Meng Wenjin left in this world, besides the forged suicide note, was something hidden for Jane.
Unfortunately, that "charitable" man with the Johnson surname had sent people to break into their home. Most of their valuables had been stolen, and the house had been burned to the ground.
Based on Jane's understanding of her mother, that hidden item was very likely concealed in one of her paintings.
So she absolutely had to attend this auction!
And she must reclaim this painting!
Jane exhaled deeply and lay down in the bathtub she had filled.
Steam rose as every pore in her body relaxed, and the fatigue of the entire day gradually faded away.
Jane closed her eyes and, without realizing it, drifted into a dream.
In her dream was her childhood.
It was an utterly ordinary night, not a holiday or anniversary, but the moon was bright and full.
This was before they had adopted her younger sister, Jenny.
The three of them sat together, brewing tea and roasting chestnuts around a small fire stove.
Jiang Weimin had a special talent—with just some tea leaves and a cup of milk, he could brew an incredibly delicious milk tea!
The young Jane, who loved milk tea, would always watch with shining eyes and an expression of admiration!
"Wow, Dad, you're amazing!"
Until later, when she caught Jiang Weimin acting suspiciously, secretly pouring store-bought milk tea into a small pot!
That's when she realized she had been deceived for years!
"Dad, you big liar!"
Jiang Weimin had laughed heartily then, hoisting the young Jane onto his shoulders and running under the moonlight, calling out, "Little moon, hold tight! Dad's going to take you to catch stars, okay?"
Jane immediately forgot about the milk tea incident and sweetly replied, "Yes, yes!"
Father and daughter played wildly, jumping up and down until their foreheads were covered in sweat.
Meng Wenjin watched them with amusement. "You two monkeys."
The big monkey heard this and stopped in his tracks.
The little monkey exchanged a glance with him, grinning widely.
Then they formed a united front and launched an attack on Meng Wenjin!
"Wife, take this!"
"Mom, look at me!"
By the end of that day, both father and daughter had each received a slap on the head.
Jiang Weimin even rubbed his forehead and said, "Smells nice, hehe."
"..."
Meng Wenjin wanted to give him another slap but feared he might enjoy it.
In the end, she carried her sweet, soft daughter away and punished the shameless man by making him sleep in the study.
As they entered the room, little Jane pressed her face against her mother's and, remembering a fairy tale book she had recently finished, pointed at the round moon in the sky and asked, "Mom, is Chang'e really on the moon?"
Meng Wenjin smiled and asked in return, "Darling, what do you think?"
"I don't think so," Jane shook her head like a little adult. "That's just in stories."
Meng Wenjin didn't say anything, but a few days later, a painting was hung at the foot of Jane's bed.
It was the moon from that night.
And deep within the moon, the lonely and cold fairy Chang'e.
The young Jane had earnestly named this painting—Moongazing Terrace.
...
The water in the bathtub had grown cold.
Bone-chillingly cold.
Jane didn't get up, allowing her body to slide down little by little until she was completely submerged. She didn't struggle, not even once.
I miss you both so much.
I miss you both so much.
How many times had she wanted to give up everything, to just end it all without care or concern, waiting to reunite with her parents?
She wanted to go back to that time, to see her father's silly smile again, to see her mother's gentle eyes filled with love.
But there was no going back.
Jane kept her eyes closed, water filling her ears, blocking out all sounds around her, until the banging noise grew louder and louder.
With a splash, Jane sat up in the bathtub.
Now she could hear it more clearly.
Someone was pounding on her door.
[End of Chapter 6]