The truth buried beneath the surface was dug up, reeking of greed and malice.
Those "righteous warriors" who had previously defended the driver at fault while cursing Mr. Wen and the hospital now vanished without a trace, as if nothing had ever happened. They left the victims to face the utter mess, with no one to turn to for justice.
Wen Yechen was only eight at the time—an age where he could form memories but couldn't yet fully think for himself about many things.
He couldn't understand how his mother—who had kissed him, made him breakfast, and taken him to school that very morning—could become a cold, unmoving corpse just one day later. Nor could he comprehend why his tall, seemingly omnipotent father could only lie pale and gasping on a hospital bed. As he heard the news of his wife's tragic death, his face became streaked with tears of grief and regret.
Mr. Wen clung to life for three days before ultimately succumbing to his grievous injuries.
