Chapter 6: The Art of Retribution
After the chaos had subsided, I returned home, my heart heavy with the recent events. The first thing I did was to seek out the sanitation workers and security guards, inquiring about Dou Dou’s fate. Their responses were dishearteningly uniform: “We haven’t seen a small dog like that.”
Undeterred, I combed through the neighborhood, asking residents if anyone had found a Bichon Frise. The answers were a series of disappointments, but hope still flickered within me. I believed Dou Dou was alive, perhaps discovered by a kind-hearted soul and taken in.
However, my optimism was short-lived, snuffed out by a call from Shen Ke. His voice was laced with anger and entitlement, commanding me to withdraw the police report as if the desecration of my belongings was a trivial matter.
He was utterly clueless about the depth of my resolve. I had no intention of letting him off the hook—not just for the money, but for the profound disrespect and harm he had caused. I had been the architect of his rising art career, and now, I would bring it crashing down.
During our tense conversation, I could hear Bai Wenyan’s anxious whispers in the background, her fear palpable as she sensed the potential loss of her meal ticket. She interjected hastily, trying to paint herself as the responsible party and me as the unreasonable ex.
I played along, feigning a mix of vulnerability and acquiescence, knowing full well that every word I spoke was another link in the chain I was forging to bind them together. If they believed they could use me as a pawn in their sordid game, they were about to learn just how mistaken they were.
After the call, I waited patiently for Bai Wenyan to make her move, confident that she would come crawling, desperate to appease me with money. And she didn’t disappoint. In less than thirty minutes, she arrived at the hospital, her demeanor a mix of defiance and resignation as she transferred the funds.
“Lin Le Ning, now that you’ve got the money, don’t use this as an excuse to contact Shen Ke again,” she warned, attempting to maintain some semblance of control over the situation.
I merely smiled coldly, unwilling to waste any more breath on her. Her threats and insults bounced off me like raindrops off a duck’s back.
Shen Ke arrived shortly after, his face etched with frustration and anger. Instead of offering an apology or expressing concern for my well-being, he launched into a tirade about my supposed greed and betrayal.
“I’m so disappointed in you. You’re blinded by money!” he accused, oblivious to the irony of his words.
I watched the two of them, Shen Ke and Bai Wenyan, with a sense of detached amusement. The dynamic between them was clear as day: Shen Ke sought to reassert his dominance and control, while Bai Wenyan was desperate to keep her grip on him and the lifestyle he provided.
But I had seen through their charade. Shen Ke’s need to assert his power over me was a thinly veiled attempt to compensate for the humiliation he felt at Bai Wenyan’s betrayal. In his twisted mind, demeaning me was a way to regain his bruised ego.
The realization was like a lightbulb moment. I no longer felt the sting of his cruelty or the bite of her venom. I had been a pawn in their twisted game, but no longer. It was time for me to turn the tables and show them the true meaning of retribution.
As Shen Ke stormed out, his pride wounded and his anger unchecked, I knew the first phase of my plan was complete. The art exhibition curator would soon deliver the news that would send him spiraling further into despair.
I settled back into my hospital bed, a sense of calm washing over me. The pieces were in motion, and soon, justice would be served. My only regret was that Dou Dou wasn’t there by my side. But I held onto the hope that he was out there, waiting for me to find him once again.
The wheels of retribution had been set in motion, and I would ensure that Shen Ke and Bai Wenyan received their just deserts.
