Around noon, Janet’s veil unexpectedly fell off as she was leaving a restaurant. The crowd reacted with a mix of fear and anger, some staring in shock while others glared at her with hostility, thinking she deserved her fate.
In her grief and rage, Janet wrote a poem on the spot, then bought a bottle of poison and headed to the crowded market. She climbed onto a platform, tears streaming down her face, and knelt.
She bowed three times and said, “Father, Mother, I am unworthy. I failed to live up to your expectations and let you down in life.”
“Yet what did I do wrong? Just showing my face has cost me my life!”
“In my next life, I’d rather be born an animal than live in this cursed dynasty.”
Then she drank the poison in one gulp. Soon after, she was writhing in pain and bleeding before she died.
After her death, I arranged for two people to handle her body. I was surprised to see that most of the women present had sympathetic looks, with very few showing indifference.
It seemed that the posters had made an impact. In the past, people would cheer and clap for the deaths of those on the platform, but this time, the applause was barely audible.