After many years, Chu Nanxi still remembered that night.
Her brother carried her, stumbling out of the woods, only to collapse to the ground, unable to stand.
She reached out to pull him up, touching a hand full of blood, her brother's back gruesomely wounded.
She remembered the clouds dispersing in the sky, the mercury-like moonlight pouring down, her brother's blood-streaked back, and those eyes lit by the moonlight.
Later, how her father found her, and how she was brought back home, Chu Nanxi couldn't quite remember clearly.
All she remembered was clinging to the blood-stained hem of her shirt while her mother cried trying to bathe her, refusing to let go no matter what.
...
Of course, she didn't mention any of this.
She looked up, surveying the surroundings, and took a deep breath.
"This is the truth! Now, you may ask questions."
Whoosh!
Hands shot up all over the venue.
Chu Nanxi pointed to a female reporter, who stood up, clearly somewhat choked up.
