“September 6th, that night, I saw you again on a corporate dinner, though I weren’t in the same table as you. That night, you were sitting together with your husband Ho Cong and the higher ups of Datong. That night, you drank one cup of white wine and two cups of red wine, and after you passed out you were delivered to my bed.”
His voice was calm, as if recounting all the things that another person did in such frightening detail was something completely normal and natural thing to do, like eating and drinking and breathing.
He paused to look at me, then continued, “You have a faint reddish birthmark on your right butt cheek that resembles a flower bud. You were unbroken at the time. I paid a high price for you.”