On the eastern coast of the East China Sea lies Haizhou City, a relatively young metropolis. Twenty years ago, this place could barely be called a town, straddling a precarious balance between a fishing village and a small county. In the words of contemporary clichés, it was the reform and opening-up policies that transformed this obscure coastal settlement overnight into a burgeoning city that captured the nation's attention. With the twin wings of light industry and tourism, Haizhou soared into the sky and over the sea.
At the easternmost tip of Haizhou lies Jianqiao Peninsula, where it meets the ocean. If Haizhou were a great bird in flight, Jianqiao would be its head. This area is home to the city's elite, a cluster of opulent villas and a parade of luxury cars, exuding an air of grandiosity.
The date was August 15, 2000. What unfolded on Jianqiao Peninsula seemed like an ordinary romantic encounter, the kind that wouldn't even raise an eyebrow in a city accustomed to the dazzling nightlife and myriad indulgences. However, this seemingly mundane event erupted into a dramatic saga that not only shook Haizhou to its core but also reverberated throughout East and South Asia, inadvertently ushering Haizhou into the new millennium.