The journalist approached Wanyin at the bookstore three weeks before trial.
Young woman, early twenties, with a recorder and notebook.
"Liu Yin? Or should I say Xu Wanyin?"
Wanyin's heart stopped. "How did you—"
"I'm investigating Shen Jingwei. His business practices, allegations of abuse. Multiple women have come forward anonymously. But I need someone willing to go on record."
"I can't. I have a trial coming up. Anything I say could—"
"Could help other women. Could prevent him from doing this again. Could show the world who he really is."
Wanyin looked at Mrs. Zhou, who just shrugged. "Your call, kid."
"Why me?" Wanyin asked the journalist. "There are other women you said."
"Because you're the one who fought back publicly. The one who didn't take his money. That makes you a symbol."
"I don't want to be a symbol. I just want to be left alone."
"I understand. But sometimes the thing we need to do and the thing we want to do aren't the same."
Wanyin thought about the other women. The ones still trapped. The ones too scared to leave. The ones who didn't know it was possible to survive without him.
"If I do this, can you guarantee my safety?"
"No. But I can guarantee your voice will be heard. And sometimes that's armor enough."
She agreed to the interview on two conditions. One, she could review the article before publication. Two, it wouldn't run until after the trial.
They talked for three hours. About the relationship, the isolation, the accident. About waking up with no memory and choosing freedom over familiarity.
"Do you think the accident was deliberate?" the journalist asked.
"I don't know. I'll probably never know. But it gave me a second chance and I'm not wasting it."
"What would you say to other women in similar situations?"
Wanyin thought carefully. "I'd say that you're not crazy. That what you're experiencing is real. That leaving is possible even when it seems impossible. And that there are people who will help if you're brave enough to ask."
The article was scheduled to run two weeks after the trial concluded.
That night, Wanyin felt strange. Exposed but also powerful.
She'd told her story. Put it on record.
Now it existed outside of her, a truth that couldn't be taken back or bought off.
Shen Jingwei could throw money at it, could hire lawyers to discredit it. But it would still exist.
And maybe, just maybe, it would save someone else.