The winter morning was exceptionally cold, with dew clinging to the grass and trees. Sunlight stretched from the distance, casting its glow over the city without a trace of warmth.
A crowd had gathered at the courthouse entrance, standing in the sunlight, hoping to draw some comfort from its golden hue.
After numerous twists and turns in media coverage, the sexual assault case involving Ye Sibei had finally reached its judgment day.
Due to privacy concerns, the trial was closed to the public. Reporters and family members were barred from entering, but this did nothing to dampen the crowd's enthusiasm.
Some news anchors were applying makeup, while independent media hosts recounted the case's background, creating a lively atmosphere as everyone awaited the final verdict.
"This sexual assault case, which occurred in Nancheng in April 2018, has now reached its final trial stage. After the defendant was acquitted in the first trial, the moral credibility of the plaintiff, Ms. Ye, has once again become a social focus. Whether this is a case of workplace sexual assault or a scandal involving transactional sex—today, the court will give us the final answer," one reporter provided an official recap.
"An increasing number of netizens have joined the discussion, criticizing both the plaintiff and the defendant. In this case of repeated reversals, we can't help but wonder: who should bear the responsibility for the harm caused by excessive public involvement in personal legal matters?" an independent media host analyzed the case's societal impact from a broader perspective.
Meanwhile, some talk shows stopped passersby holding signs that read "Stay strong, Ye Sibei!" and asked, "If Ye Sibei loses the case, will you still support her?"
"Yes," a young girl answered, her breath forming a cloud of mist in the cold air.
"Have you considered that if she is indeed falsely accusing someone, your actions would be unfair to the defendant?"
"Have you considered," the girl frowned, "that because she reported this so late, achieving a fair trial is already difficult? If she loses the case simply due to lack of evidence and then has to endure public humiliation and judgment—wouldn't that be an even greater injustice?"
"We're not trying to attack the defendant. We just hope that a woman who found the courage to file a lawsuit can return to a normal life."
Debates continued at the entrance, lively and heated.
In stark contrast, the courtroom was solemn and austere.
The judge and court clerk sat at the front, with the prosecutor and defense attorney on either side.
The spectator seats were empty—not even family members were present.
"Your Honor, I have no further questions."
After the defendant answered the prosecutor's final question, the prosecutor nodded to the judge and sat down.
The defendant exhaled deeply in relief. Another prosecutor stood up and said, "Your Honor, we would now like to request the victim's testimony."
"Bring in the victim."
The judge gestured toward a small side door.
The defendant was escorted out by court police. As the door closed behind him, everyone heard the creak of another door opening.
All eyes turned to see the figure of a young woman appear in the doorway.
She wore a light-colored dress, her soft hair tied into a low ponytail with a pearl hairband. Her makeup was subtle, and she carried the fresh scent of perfume.She straightened her back, facing everyone with such calmness and composure, exuding a vibrant energy—like tender grass pushing through boulders in spring, or plum blossoms slowly unfurling in the winter wind.
She gazed quietly at them all.
This was the first time in nearly a year that she had worn a skirt.
The first time she had put on makeup.
The first time she had sprayed on perfume.
The first time she had chosen a hair tie with a decorative clasp to tie up her hair.
And the first time in her life she had lifted her head and walked with confidence through this world.
She stepped to the spot where the defendant had stood moments before and calmly introduced herself.
"My name is Ye Sibei. I am 28 years old, originally from Nancheng. I previously worked in the finance department of Fuqiang Real Estate as an accountant."
Her voice was gentle yet firm as she recounted the ordeal she had described countless times.
She performed flawlessly—no tears, no loss of control, just an objective retelling, as if she were an outsider narrating someone else’s story.
After her statement, she faced cross-examination from both sides, forced once again to prove she was not lying.
The defense attorney probed her with one supposed inconsistency after another, until finally, he posed a question.
"Miss Ye, you’ve consistently maintained that you were not a willing participant and that you had no prior private contact with Mr. Fan. So, could you tell me—what exactly led you to remain silent after such a traumatic experience, only to suddenly decide to press charges later?"
All eyes were on her, but the defense attorney’s gaze was especially sharp as it bore into hers. "Why didn’t you report it to the police from the beginning?"
Why, at the very moment the harm began, did she not choose to call the police?
As Ye Sibei listened to the question, she couldn’t help but slowly turn her head.
The public gallery was empty, yet she felt as though someone was sitting there.
He should have been around twenty-eight or twenty-nine, wearing a dark blue jacket, his hair untrimmed for a long time, strands falling loosely by his ears. His stubble, paired with his wheat-colored skin and striking features, gave him a rugged handsomeness—far removed from the delicate, polished male idols popular today.
He should have been looking at her, his gaze steady and resolute, like a lone boat on a vast sea, or a lamp shining through the night.
Why didn’t you report it?
This was a question she had been asked countless times.
But to trace the answer, how could it be explained in just a sentence or two?
Perhaps one would have to cut through the chaos of the past and future, bloodied and raw, to uncover the origins of this silence.
Ye Sibei, why didn’t you report it?
And who was it that gave you the courage to walk this thorny path?
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