After being murdered by my whole family, I was reborn

Upon hearing her agreement, Zhang Ran excitedly directed Xie Wei to find a wheelchair, and she personally pushed Chen Zhaodi to the morgue.

The forensic doctor didn't arrive so quickly; Zhang Ran and the others arrived at the morgue first.

Outside, the sun was blazing hot, but inside the morgue, it was so cold that goosebumps rose on my skin.

Lifting the white sheet and seeing Old Man Chen's unrecognizable corpse, Chen Zhaodi finally couldn't help but cry, "Father..." Tears slid down his face, flowing over the still-healing scars, stinging painfully, but nothing compared to the pain in his chest.

Zhang Ran stood aside, quietly watching her cry in anguish.

When she recalled how her father and brother conspired to murder her, how she helped cover it up and aided and abetted their evil deeds, her face showed panic, anxiety, disgust, fear... a mix of complex emotions, but no pain.

She thought her mother wouldn't cry, wouldn't feel heartache, and wouldn't suffer. Turns out, she knew how to cry and felt pain too.

In her memory, her grandfather used to boss her around, beat and scold her at the drop of a hat, and treated her like a slave, a free blood bank, and a tool for old age. Yet she never hated him; instead, she would fawn over him and try to please him even more.

She's like someone with Stockholm syndrome, in love with her abusive parents, devout like a believer, bewitched, and you can never wake someone who's pretending to be asleep.

Standing to the side, Xie Wei frowned as he looked at Old Chen's corpse. Then, seeing the suppressed excitement in Zhang Ran's eyes and thinking about the upcoming autopsy, he had a bad feeling.

Could the gas explosion have been staged by Zhang Ran to deliberately kill the father and daughter?

What did they do to make her so cruel?

How much evidence do the police have?

My peaceful heart sank into a bottomless abyss, filled with unease.

Police officers and forensic experts arrived at the hospital quickly.

Zhang Ran glanced at them but didn't spot Sheng Dong in plainclothes. However, she knew that this man was like a venomous snake, lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce and bite her at any moment.

When Chen Zhaodi saw the police arrive, she wiped away her tears and made a firm demand: "Please, you must help me find out the real cause of my father's death." As she said this, she was observing her daughter's reaction out of the corner of her eye.

Zhang Ran seemed oblivious to everything and echoed her sentiments.

The forensic doctor nodded and assured him, "Don't worry, we will definitely get the truth out of the deceased." He then instructed his assistant to bring out the various tools needed for the autopsy.

Chen Zhaodi barely recognized the autopsy tools that were initially brought out; her face showed only curiosity.

She remembered that there weren't so many professional tools the year her husband died.

When she saw the tools such as knives, axes, saws, and hammers being taken out, she was stunned. By the time she came to her senses, the forensic doctor had already started. The scene directly impacted her cerebral cortex, attacking the most vulnerable nerves. Instantly, her ears rang and buzzed, her vision became blurred, and her mind went blank.

The sounds of vomiting were constant, and even the police officers ran outside to vomit.

The forensic doctor, however, remained calm and continued the autopsy with a solemn expression, as if he were performing a very sacred task.

Zhang Ran didn't watch the autopsy process; her eyes were fixed on Chen Zhaodi's every move from beginning to end. She watched as Chen Zhaodi snapped out of her daze, her pupils contracting violently as if she had been greatly frightened, and the next second, she vomited.

Others can escape after vomiting, thus avoiding further visual, olfactory, and mental torment.

But Chen Zhaodi could only sit in a wheelchair and endure the vomiting.

Zhang Ran watched her faint before saying goodbye to the police and pushing her wheelchair back to the ward.