Chapter 13: Substituting one thing for another, report letter

As Yang Mumu stood before the first person, Yang Zhong, holding the items, the other four stared intently at Yang Zhong, even leaning in close. They were positioned around him, afraid he would make a move.

They all knew Yang Zhong was the most untrustworthy and dishonest among them.  Yang Zhong, uncomfortable under their scrutiny, didn’t dare to move his eyes much, nervously watching the items in Yang Mumu’s hands.

  Seeing his confession, his handwriting, his private seal, and then the film rolls, he nodded decisively. “Yes, this is it.” Yang Mumu moved the items to the next person, and so on.

 Under the mutual surveillance and confirmation of the five, they all nodded, indicating that these were the items they wanted.

Yang Mumu beckoned them. “Come, come closer. Let’s have a final confirmation; take one last look.” The five confirmed again, remaining wary of each other, nodding repeatedly, absolutely certain. Finally, they said in unison: “Burn them.” Yang Mumu nodded, brought over the brazier, and lit the candle in front of them.

 She burned each item one by one, reducing each to ashes before moving on to the next, ensuring nothing was left behind. The firelight illuminated the faces of the five, each with a beaming smile, thrilled and satisfied.

 The weight on their hearts was finally lifted; they were no longer threatened. The five let out a long breath of pent-up anger, their eyes lingering on Yang Mumu’s back with undisguised malice. 

When Yang Mumu turned to them, they hadn’t even had time to hide their malice, and it was clearly reflected in their eyes. Yang Mumu smiled without speaking, but the five were startled and quickly averted their gaze.

 Yang Zhong hurriedly said as he walked out, “Since we’re even, Mumu, you go about your business, Second Uncle will be going now.” Yang Mumu, just you wait! You’ll have a good time! The others also quickly bid farewell and slipped away, their steps lighter and quicker, their hurried movements filled with joy.

 The five thought: It’s time to figure out how to reclaim our property. The world is so big, can they really not deal with one little girl? Impossible. After such a harrowing experience, they remained supremely confident that they would get their money back. They exchanged glances, preparing to meet and discuss their plan.

 Yang Mumu followed them, using her mind to control a small amount of water in a cup in her space, sprinkling it over the five.

 Some landed on their heads, some on their lips, silently entering their bodies through their saliva. “It’s starting to rain, let’s go back quickly, before it gets heavier.” Zhang Cuilan, with a drop of water on her face, muttered softly, quickening her pace. The other four also sped up, following closely behind.

 Yang Mumu watched their backs, a strange smile on her face. Closing the door, returning to the room, she looked at the brazier, now only containing a pile of ashes, and smiled again. From her space, she took out a stack of items—the three rolls of film and five confessions that should have been burned.

The items were intact, all secretly replaced by her using her space, the dim candlelight, and every advantageous condition during the burning. What they saw was real, but the confessions she burned were forgeries, and the film rolls were real, but they contained only her own pictures.

 The fools, wary of each other, left triumphantly, thinking they were safe, preparing to find an opportunity to kill and rob.  But she knew; she had seen through them, not one of them was good. Keeping them around would only be a poison to society.

 It was time for her to take action, to make them lose everything, to get the money, and then the people. Yang Mumu patted the stack of photos; it wasn’t enough.

She entered her space, went to the room where she developed the photos, the room was full of hanging photos, all the fruits of her labor from yesterday, each one personally developed. She had taken far more than three rolls; she had taken a lot more, ten rolls, and now only one new roll remained unused.

Excluding the burned rolls, that meant she had taken six full rolls.  There were 36 photos per roll; she had taken a total of 216 photos, each unique, all developed by her. She had even made additional prints of some of the more exciting photos, specially aging a batch.

 She had been busy all night, and her dark circles were significantly heavier. Yang Mumu took down all the dried photos from the room and put them together with the previous stack.  Wow, a whole box of photos.

She was even impressed with herself for developing so many photos, all using the traditional manual method; her hands were wrinkled from soaking.  Fortunately, it wasn’t in vain. Her printing skills, after such high-intensity work, had become so proficient that she could do it with her eyes closed; fast and good, she had completely mastered a skill.

 Most importantly, just thinking about the scene after the photos served their purpose excited her. Thinking about it, she got to work. Yang Mumu immediately took out paper, pen, ink, and started writing a report.

 She was ambidextrous, able to use both hands. She switched to her left hand and wrote eloquently. She wrote about their gatherings, their long-term promiscuity, their taking photos as souvenirs, their drug sources, and so on. In this era, they couldn’t get away with much for killing someone, but promiscuity was a different story; they would be dealt with strictly. 

Add drugs and the gatherings, and it would be a major offense. If they were caught in the act, the consequences would be severe. And yesterday’s play-acting would serve as proof of their desperate attempts to cover up their dirty deeds.

Even if they cried foul later, claiming she did it, who would believe them? After all, who could prove she did it, what she did? She was a gentle, weak woman, incapable of overpowering several tall men, let alone eight.

 She couldn’t let eight people get together like that.  But they themselves had the irrefutable evidence. Yang Mumu finished writing the report, changed into her fast, comfortable Windfire Wheel shoes, disguised herself, packed all the photos into her shoulder bag, exited the space, and left the house.

 Her steps were brisk, as if she were on a skateboard.  “Wow, these shoes are amazing!” Yang Mumu nodded in satisfaction and set off to do the real work. Six o’clock was the best time for people to get up, prepare breakfast, and go out.

  She was busy distributing the photos, one here, one there, one for this household, one for that family, several for the gossip-loving families, a stack at the factory gate, a pile at the bustling supply and marketing cooperative, and a few more at the grain station.

High-definition close-ups, folded photos, group shots, and close-ups, plus a few group photos. After distributing the photos for entertainment and gossip, it was time for the official ones.

She packaged the report letter along with a large stack of photos and, when no one was around, slipped them into the mailbox of the local police station.

 The officers on duty would see them as soon as they started work. Having finished all this, she looked at the time when she returned home; it was 6:30, only half an hour had passed.

 The Windfire Wheel shoes didn’t lie; traveling a thousand miles a day wasn’t a dream; excellent shoes for escaping, hiking, and running errands.

 Yang Mumu finished everything and went back to sleep.  Next door, the scheme Yang Mumu had set up began to ferment, causing a great stir. For example…