On the evening of June 15, 2009, a heavy rain fell in Putian City District.
Li Yongjun stood by the roadside waiting for a ride, her clothes getting soaked by the rain.
A white van slowly came to a stop in front of her. The window rolled down, revealing Wei Hongzhao's face.
"Juju asked me to pick you up," Wei Hongzhao said. "She'll come over with Brother Huang later."
Li Yongjun hesitated for a moment. She wasn't particularly fond of Wei Hongzhao; his gaze always made her feel uneasy. However, thinking of Liao Anju's usual care for her, she opened the door and got into the car.
After leaving the urban area, Wei Hongzhao suddenly changed lanes and drove onto a secluded country road.
Just as Li Yongjun was about to ask where they were going, Chang Xuanli in the back seat had already reached out to cover her mouth.
"Don't make a sound."
Wei Hongzhao sneered, "Hand over your bank card, and we'll let you go."
The car stopped in front of an abandoned warehouse.
As Li Yongjun was dragged out of the car, she noticed a steel pipe in the corner of the warehouse, stained with rust.
It dawned on her that Liao Anju's "sisterly bond" was nothing more than a meticulously crafted trap.
"The password."
Wei Hongzhao shook the bank card he had found in her bag.
"Six eights."
Li Yongjun revealed the password for the card she usually used to buy clothes.
She only had a few thousand yuan in her account.
On the other end of the phone, Liao Anju and Huang Jiling quickly confirmed this while rummaging through her rental apartment.
"Make her tell the truth!" Huang Jiling roared. "Where's the money? What about the two hundred thousand?"
When the steel pipe first struck Li Yongjun's back, she bit her lip hard.
She couldn't reveal the real password; it was her son's tuition.
"One hit, two hits, three hits..." Forensic expert Chen Ming wrote in the autopsy report, "The deceased had a total of 127 circular bruises on her back, each with a diameter of 3.8 centimeters, consistent with the impact marks from a standard steel pipe.
Based on the distribution of the bruises' colors, the beating lasted approximately two hours."
When Liao Anju and Huang Jiling arrived at the warehouse, Li Yongjun had already lost consciousness.
"This bitch would rather die than talk." Liao Anju kicked Li Yongjun's body.
"Anyway, she has seen our faces."
Huang Jiling said, his eyes cold and piercing.
At one o'clock in the morning, a van stopped at the secluded beach of Tiangang Village.
The heavy rain had gradually ceased, but the sea breeze remained biting.
The four of them worked together to dig a deep pit, into which Li Yongjun was placed upside down.
"She moved!" Chang Xuanli exclaimed.
"Cover her up," Liao Anju said, his voice devoid of any emotion.
As the first handful of sand fell onto Li Yongjun's face, her fingers twitched as if trying to grasp something.
Perhaps it was a photo of his son, or maybe it was the bankbook hidden beneath the mattress.
But in the end, all hope was buried beneath the cold sand.
"Next month, I'll be able to pay off the gambling debts," Huang Jiling said as he held Liao Anju close on the way back to the city.
Liao Anju said nothing, only touched her eyes. They felt so dry that not a single tear could be squeezed out.
Later, the coroner wrote at the end of the autopsy report: "A large number of sand particles were found in the deceased's lungs and trachea, confirming death by being buried alive. The process of dying lasted approximately 7 to 10 minutes."
That morning, the waves washed over the beach again and again, finally revealing a pale thigh.
It was as if the deceased were using their last bit of strength to silently accuse the world.
Before confirming the identity of the deceased, Lin Haifeng meticulously studied the autopsy report.
The traces of makeup on the victim caught his attention—delicate eyebrow tattoos and heavy eye shadow, still clearly visible even after being soaked in seawater.
These characteristics matched those of certain workers from specific locations in Putian City.
"Check the employees of nightclubs who have gone missing in the past two weeks," he instructed the special investigation team.
Nine days later, the receptionist at Golden Dream City identified the deceased in a photograph.
"It's Xiao Junjie!" she exclaimed. "She said she was going back to Chongqing to see her son..."
The investigation team quickly uncovered Li Yongjun's social connections.
During questioning, Liao Anju displayed an unusual level of concern. "We are good sisters; I brought her into this line of work."
However, her eyes flickered, and her fingers nervously twisted the hem of her clothes.
An old officer noticed that there was not a trace of sadness in her tone when she spoke.
"Investigate her," ordered Lin Haifeng.
In less than 24 hours, Liao Anju's background was uncovered: she and her lover, Huang Jiling, had accumulated massive debts at an underground casino, and Li Yongjun's savings happened to be close to the amount of their gambling debts.
During the search of Liao Anju's rented apartment, the police found a shredded bank card in the trash, which belonged to Li Yongjun.
The forensic team also discovered a steel pipe stained with blood under the bed, with a diameter that perfectly matched the wounds on the deceased.
On June 26, all four suspects were apprehended.
In the interrogation room, Liao Anju finally revealed her motive for the crime: "I was jealous of her. I brought her into the business and taught her how to please the customers, but she ended up earning more money than I did. Why should that be?"
"Is that the reason?" the interrogator asked.
"She is too clean," Liao Anju bit her lip. "No matter how dirty the job, she can make it look like she’s doing something respectable."
It made me angry just to watch.
In December 2009, the Putian Intermediate People's Court delivered its verdict on the case.
When Liao Anju heard the words "death penalty," she turned to look at Li Yongjun's mother in the audience.
The elderly woman, in her sixties, had traveled thousands of miles from Chongqing to see the person who had caused her daughter's death.
During the search of Li Yongjun's rental apartment, the police found a red bankbook hidden in the mattress, showing a balance of 243,517 yuan.
Next to it was a worn-out photograph of a boy in a school uniform, smiling brightly.
On the back, it read: "Once Mom earns enough money, I will take you to the best school."
In the spring of 2010, Li Yongjun's son, Xiao Ming, transferred to a key elementary school in the Chongqing district.
The homeroom teacher was unaware of the quiet boy's backstory, only occasionally noticing that his homework was always neatly written: "Mom, I scored full marks."
The beach where a body was once discovered remained calm.
The tides rose and fell day after day, washing away all traces from the sand.
Yet the reflections left by this case lingered: when a mother’s dreams are bought with her life and ultimately carried on by her child, could this be the final redemption of life?
In Xiao Ming's new backpack, there was a yellowed photograph.
In the picture, a modestly dressed woman smiled gently, as if she had never left.
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