"October 17, 2010, a 14-year-old girl with the surname Lin.
"December 3, 2010, a 7-year-old girl with the surname Zhu.
"February 19, 2011, a 9-year-old girl with the surname He.
"March 7, 2011, a 10-year-old girl with the surname Liang.
"…"
With a sinister grin, Zhao Ba turned toward the camera, reciting each name he remembered with chilling precision.
His mother had long suspected that her husband had an illegitimate child outside the family. Fearing for their wealth, she had urged Zhao Ba to keep a close eye on his father's every move.
"If he really has an illegitimate child, we can use this dirt on him to get more money out of him!"
Zhao Ba was never a particularly clever boy, but when it came to remembering his father's misdeeds, he was diligent.
As name after name was revealed, the audience watching the live stream grew increasingly horrified, and Zhao Lisheng, unable to maintain his composure, finally snapped.
With a fierce punch to the coffee table, he roared, "Enough!"
Across two screens, separated by hundreds of kilometers, by the bodies of countless victims, and by Wang Rui's restless soul, father and son stared at each other with the hatred of sworn enemies.
Zhao Ba took a deep breath, forcing a twisted smile onto his face.
"Is this enough for you, Dad?
"Do you have any idea how I've endured these past few hours?
"You wanted to gouge out Wang Rui's eyes, but it was me who got my eye punched out.
"You cut off Wang Rui's legs, yet I'm the one who's been interrogated over and over about where her legs are.
"You're the sick pedophile, but I'm the one strapped to a cross, being crucified for it!
"I trusted you so much, I believed you would save me.
"But instead, you stabbed me in the back, voting for my death!
"What now? Am I supposed to be your stepping stone again?
"This time, I won't let it happen! You're going to die with me!"
Zhao Ba's crazed shouts echoed for what felt like an eternity, while Zhao Lisheng remained silent.
The stillness was broken by the cold, mechanical voice of the electronic announcer: "Ten-minute statement time has ended. Please vote within the next minute."
A new voting prompt appeared in the bottom left corner of the screen—
"Should Zhao Lisheng die alongside Zhao Ba?"
As soon as the voting opened, hundreds of thousands of viewers made their choice within seconds.
99% of them chose "Yes."
They wanted Zhao Lisheng dead—they wanted this hypocritical, shameless politician to face the same fate as his son.
One minute passed in a flash. When the countdown reached zero, a pop-up appeared on the screen: "Minors, please refrain from watching."
Ten seconds later, from the top of the cross, a gleaming guillotine descended from above!
In the instant Zhao Ba looked up in panic, the blade came down, and his head fell to the ground, rolling like a ripe watermelon toward the camera.
Screams erupted from the audience.
At the Zhao family villa, Zhao's mother fainted on the spot, while Zhao Lisheng stood frozen, unable to even turn his head.
He could only stare helplessly into the bloodied eyes of his son on the screen, those hollow sockets seemingly shedding tears of repentance.
Drip… drip… drop after drop of fresh blood flowed from Zhao Ba's eye sockets, as though his soul was weeping.
After what felt like an eternity, a clear, childish voice suddenly rang out: "Zhao Lisheng, you're next."
The live broadcast abruptly ended, the screen returning to the cheerful antics of shopping hosts as if nothing had happened.
But somehow, inside the Zhao family villa, a cheerful song began to play:
"Throw the handkerchief, throw the handkerchief.
"Gently place it behind the child.
"Don't tell him, quickly, quickly catch him.
"Quickly, quickly catch him."