The pandora box

"So, are you implying that Song Jian's doubts were right all along?"

Wan Yi Jun finally spoke, his voice low with disbelief, the syllables rough like gravel dragged across metal. His eyes scanned the DNA results on the monitor again, as if willing the truth to shift. But the evidence was crystal clear—clinical, cold, irrefutable. The report screamed in silent clarity: no match. No biological connection. The girl they had all assumed, all believed, was Song Jian's daughter was, in fact, not related to him by blood.

Fei Yan stiffened beside him. His fingers, which had been tapping nervously against the table's edge, froze. "Captain… this… this is crazy." His voice cracked like thin ice. "One of my guesses came true, but I didn't expect—this."

Silence buzzed around the room like static. The office lights cast a dim yellow glow over their faces, but even that seemed washed out, like the light itself had gone cold.