Night Wanderer

Modern people lose contact by turning off their phones.

The barricades at the accident scene had long been cleared. The rain stopped at dawn, and even the sun came out.

Xue Xuanqing, who had been busy all night, stood anxiously by the roadside. She had dialed Zong Ying's number over a dozen times. At first, there were ringing tones, but later, it all turned into the other party's phone being turned off.

Unprecedented.

So she gave up calling Zong Ying's cell phone and dialed her dorm—no answer. Finally, she called Apartment 699. The phone rang with a steady "beep... beep... beep..." Just as she was about to hang up, the ringing on the other end abruptly stopped, replaced by the sound of someone picking up the phone—

Her temples throbbed, and she immediately cursed: "Damn it! Have you lost your mind? Did you turn off your phone on purpose?!"

But on the other end of the line was a young man's voice, calmly responding to her fury: "Hello, who are you looking for? I can take a message for you."

Strange. Unusual.

She repeatedly checked the screen—it clearly showed the landline number for Apartment 699.

The voice on the other end politely asked again: "May I ask who you're looking for?"

A spark of anger in Xue Xuanqing's heart seemed instantly doused with a bucket of oil. She enunciated each word clearly: "Who the hell are you?! Put Zong Ying on the phone!"

It was exactly 5:58 a.m. when the other end "clicked" and hung up.

The rapid "beep beep beep" of a busy signal sounded, leaving Xue Xuanqing stunned. She called again, only to be met with a busy signal—the other party had left the receiver off the hook.

At 5:58 a.m., it was also the moment Zong Ying returned to Apartment 699, fumbling for her keys to unlock the door.

After being inexplicably hung up on, Xue Xuanqing stood dazed for a long while before snapping back to reality. She pushed back her rain-soaked bangs, revealing a face full of agitation.

Xiao Zheng, who had been waiting nearby for some time, spoke up: "Teacher Xue, let's go get breakfast first." When she didn't respond, he suggested: "How about some pan-fried buns?"

Xue Xuanqing was in no mood for breakfast. She tossed her car keys to Xiao Zheng: "Go back to the bureau first. I'm going to find Zong Ying."

On that rain-cleared morning, the streets were bustling with traffic and voices.

At 6:10, Xue Xuanqing squeezed onto the subway heading to Apartment 699, while Zong Ying sat up from the sofa.

She held her breath and listened. Apart from the ticking of the old-fashioned wall clock, there were no other sounds in the house. She then bent down, opened the coffee table cabinet, and pulled out an aluminum alloy forensic case. With a click, she unlocked it, slipped on latex gloves, took out an evidence vial, and poured the lukewarm water from the mug into it. Simultaneously, she opened an evidence bag, placed the mug inside, and sealed it.

Zong Ying then stood up and walked toward the kitchen. The semi-open space was neat and tidy, with an electric kettle sitting on the countertop.

She pressed her fingertips against the kettle's surface—the temperature was between 45 to 50 degrees Celsius. Based on experience, the water had been boiled within the last 20 minutes, meaning this person had been in her home as late as 5 a.m.

The rest of the kitchen showed almost no signs of disturbance. Zong Ying opened the trash bin and found an empty milk carton inside. She picked it out—the production date stamped on the seal was July 21, 2015, meaning the milk had been packaged just two days ago.

After inspecting the kitchen, Zong Ying entered the bedroom to search for clues but found nothing.She turned and went upstairs. There was only a small room upstairs, usually used as a guest room, but she rarely entertained outsiders. Unused for a long time, the doorknob had gathered a thin layer of dust—yet the one before her now was polished to a shine.

A hand clad in latex gloves carefully gripped the doorknob, intending to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge—

The door was locked.

Zong Ying never had the habit of locking her doors.

She patiently collected fingerprints from the doorknob, then went downstairs to check all the windows and doors—no signs of forced entry. Whoever it was likely had a key to her home.

Right, the keys.

Zong Ying turned on the hallway light by the entrance and pulled open the top drawer of the dresser. Sure enough, the spare set of keys inside had vanished, along with some loose change—the small bills she usually used to pay for takeout.

However, beside the drawer lay an envelope, and next to it, a neatly folded black umbrella, already dried.

Before she could take it out, the door was pounded with heavy knocks. Xue Xuanqing, panting, shouted from outside, "Open up! If you don’t, I’ll call someone to break it down!"

Zong Ying stepped forward and opened the door, immediately receiving two sharp flicks on the forehead: "You were home and turned off your phone! You were home and turned off your phone!"

"Forgot to charge it," Zong Ying replied calmly.

"You did it on purpose!" Xue Xuanqing’s initial worry and anger had mostly dissipated upon seeing her, but the sight of her gloves made her frown again. "What are you doing?"

"Sharpening professional skills," Zong Ying answered matter-of-factly.

"Cut the crap. Did a thief break in here?" She pushed past Zong Ying and spotted the open forensic kit inside. "Why didn’t you call the police? What kind of evidence can you gather like this?"

Zong Ying had no answer. Her instincts told her this wasn’t just a simple burglary, but she wasn’t ready to explain it to anyone yet.

"Did you lose anything?"

Zong Ying remained silent. Xue Xuanqing turned and stared at her.

They were about the same height, both exhausted from staying up all night, eyes bloodshot—equally worn out.

"Fine." After a brief standoff, Xue Xuanqing gave up. "You clearly don’t want to tell me. I won’t pry."

She pulled out a cigarette case, took two, and handed one to Zong Ying. "What time did you get home?"

"Almost six," Zong Ying replied, accepting the cigarette.

She remembered clearly—when she lay down on the sofa, the grandfather clock in the house had chimed six times.

"Then I should tell you—" Xue Xuanqing opened her phone and showed Zong Ying the call log. "At 5:57, I called your landline. A man answered. At 5:58, he suddenly hung up."

"What did he say?"

Xue Xuanqing, straining her overtired brain to recall, answered, "'Hello, who are you looking for? I can take a message for you.'"

Zong Ying lowered her eyelids but said, "Weird tone. Doesn’t sound like a thief. Might’ve been a wrong number."

Xue Xuanqing shook her head. "Something’s off, but it’s your business. Handle it yourself."

She finally pulled out a lighter, trying to light her cigarette, but it wouldn’t catch. Her frustration mounting, she turned and headed straight for the kitchen, clicking on the gas stove to borrow a flame. Taking a deep drag, she finally got to the point.

Leaning against the counter, Xue Xuanqing said, "That crime scene you messaged me about in the middle of the night—guess who the perpetrator was?"Zong Ying removed her latex gloves and sat back on the sofa, picking up the unlit cigarette again. "You might as well tell me directly."

"Xing Xueyi."

Her fingers, slowly turning the cigarette, paused slightly.

"Zong Yu's uncle, right?" Xue Xuanqing exhaled a smoke ring and sighed. "Zong Yu was in the same car. He was severely injured and needed blood, so they called you." She completed her deduction, a cold smirk curling at the corner of her lips. "Only when they need you do they remember you. Forgive me, but I don’t see an ounce of sincerity or care in that."

Zong Ying set the cigarette down and clasped her hands together. "Let’s not talk about this."

"Then let me tell you something else." Xue Xuanqing flicked ash into the sink. "What do you want to hear?"

"Details of the scene."

Xue Xuanqing took another drag, furrowing her brows as she replied, "The car lost control, sideswiped three other vehicles in the tunnel, and finally crashed into a concrete wall. The front was nearly destroyed. Xing Xueyi died on the spot. Zong Yu was in the back and barely escaped with his life."

"Is that all?"

"Two other adults died, and two had minor injuries." Xue Xuanqing’s voice was devoid of emotion, but she narrowed her eyes through the smoke. "Xing Xueyi’s death fits the characteristics of a fatal crash, but there was one other discovery." She suddenly turned and yanked open the thick curtains. The summer morning light flooded in, and Zong Ying instinctively turned her head away.

"See for yourself."

With that, Xue Xuanqing pulled up the headlines and tossed her phone over.

Zong Ying lowered her head to scan the screen. Key phrases jumped out at her:

"Chain collision accident... Xing, head of Xinshi Pharmaceutical Research Institute... Zong, son of a Xinshi Pharmaceutical executive... suspected drugs found in the car... information suppressed... interviews refused... one pregnant woman and one man dead at the scene..."

Scrolling down, she saw a series of accompanying photos—the accident scene, emergency responders, family members... and herself, her face partially obscured.

Zong Ying’s thumb swiped across the image. She looked up just in time to meet Xue Xuanqing’s gaze.

"Could you block it any worse? Just covering your face is useless." Xue Xuanqing twisted the faucet and stubbed out her cigarette in the sink. "With that police badge number, you’ll be doxxed in minutes. In times like these, isn’t it better to avoid trouble?"

Zong Ying opened the comments section, where a barrage of skepticism and speculation unfolded, each commenter rolling up their sleeves to play armchair detective.

She asked, "What caused the car to lose control?"

"Mechanical failure is unlikely. Odds are, it was human error."

She pressed further, "Is the 'drug discovery' real or not?"

"Suspicious substances were found in Xing Xueyi’s bag and sent for testing. Whether he was driving under the influence will depend on further lab reports." Xue Xuanqing paused before adding, "I heard Xinshi has a new drug about to launch. At a time like this, if the research institute gets embroiled in a drug scandal, things won’t end well."

Zong Ying closed the news page. Meanwhile, Xue Xuanqing, her throat parched, grabbed the electric kettle.

She casually filled a cup with warm water. Suddenly, Zong Ying looked up, her tone turning urgent. "Don’t drink that!"

But Xue Xuanqing ignored her and took a sip.

Zong Ying’s attempt to stop her failed. She sprang up, snatched the cup from Xue Xuanqing’s hand, then grabbed the kettle and poured all the water into the sink.

"Have you lost your mind?!" Xue Xuanqing shouted at her.Zong Ying offered no explanation or further words. She opened the fridge door, took out a sealed can of tea, and even popped the tab for her.

The reopened wound from exertion began to bleed again, and only then did Xue Xuanqing notice the bandages covering her palms.

Zong Ying withdrew her hand, glanced at the time, and said, "It's late. You still need to return to the bureau for handover. I have to recuse myself from this case—I’ll leave it to you."

Xue Xuanqing had nothing left to say. She fished out her wallet from her pocket and handed it to Zong Ying, simply saying, "Don’t lose it again."

Zong Ying acknowledged with a sound, returned her phone, and saw her out.

Already at the door and about to step into the elevator, Xue Xuanqing suddenly turned back and called, "Zong Ying—" But after a moment’s hesitation, she only added, "Get some rest."

Zong Ying stood at the doorway and nodded earnestly.

Watching her leave, Zong Ying closed the door, reopened the dresser drawer, and retrieved an envelope beside the wooden box. From it, she shook out a thin booklet and a letter.

She unfolded the letter, which read—

"Miss Zong,

"It is most presumptuous of me to leave you this note. I imagine you, too, are troubled by certain matters. If you have the time and are willing, please remain in the apartment. We shall meet again at 10 p.m. to discuss in detail.

"I hope this does not alarm you. Wishing you health, joy, and all the best.

"Sheng Qingrang, morning of the 23rd."