The rain that had paused overnight returned with a vengeance early in the morning, causing Shanghai's temperature to plummet to twenty degrees Celsius. The air was pleasantly humid, making a light jacket necessary when stepping out.
A little past nine, Zong Ying left for the hospital—her medication had run out.
Just as she reached the gate, the security guard called out to her, "Wait a moment, there's something for you."
Zong Ying stood by the iron gate, holding her umbrella, as the guard went back inside to retrieve a cardboard box. He handed it to her, saying, "This package arrived yesterday afternoon. No one was home, and your phone was unreachable, so it was left here."
At first glance, it seemed like an ordinary box, but as Zong Ying took it, she immediately sensed its weight.
Carrying the box outside, she opened it to find a wooden case inside—simple yet clearly of fine craftsmanship.
Opening the wooden case, she saw an envelope nestled in soft velvet. Zong Ying pinched it open, and a stack of photos spilled out—
Old photographs, seven in total, each featuring Yan Man posing with others.
Zong Ying pursed her lips and frowned as she examined them, only to find a card at the very end.
The card read: "While organizing old belongings recently, I came across several photos of your mother. It seemed improper to keep them to myself, so I thought it best to entrust them to you. If you find the time, perhaps we could catch up." The wording carried a distinctly old-fashioned tone, signed by "Lü Qianming"—the major shareholder who had recently been aggressively increasing his stake in Xinsi.
Zong Ying had only a faint impression of him, recalling him as a kind uncle, one of Xinsi's founding members and an early executive. Though he had later left to start his own ventures, the two companies under his control had maintained significant holdings in Xinsi, keeping close ties with the company.
Counting back, it had been years since she last saw him. His sudden outreach was somewhat unexpected, and the timing—sending these old photos on the anniversary of Yan Man's passing—left her puzzled. What was his intention?
Unable to make sense of it, Zong Ying tucked the photos back into the envelope and glanced at the sender's address on the package: Songjiang.
She placed the box in her bag, opened her umbrella, and headed straight for the hospital.
It was already peak outpatient hours, with long queues at both the registration and payment counters. Zong Ying decided to call Sheng Qiushi for a prescription instead. He asked her to wait a moment, so she sat in the lobby briefly before suddenly getting up to purchase emergency medical supplies.
Anticipating that Sheng Qingrang might be running low on medical supplies, she bought a full bag of essentials, just in case. As she stepped out of the pharmacy, Sheng Qiushi called back: "I’ve got your medication ready. Come by to pick it up."
Zong Ying hung up and hurried back to the ward area, going upstairs to collect the prescription.
Sheng Qiushi handed her the medication, then glanced at the bag of supplies she was carrying, puzzled. "Why did you buy so much medicine?"
Zong Ying replied, "I’m sending them to a sponsored student. They need these where they are."
Since Sheng Qiushi couldn’t clearly see what was inside the bag, he didn’t press further after her explanation.
But then he turned his attention to her health. "How have you been feeling these past couple of days?"
Zong Ying nodded. "Not bad."Sheng Qiushi gave her a once-over, confirming her complexion and mood seemed fine, then said, "Since you're here, do you want to go up and take a look? Zong Yu seems eager to see you." Worried she might run into Zong Yu's mother, father, or Aunt, he paused and added, "I just came down from upstairs. Right now, there's no one in the ward except the caregiver."
Zong Ying lowered her head in thought. The inexplicable "I'm sorry" Zong Yu had uttered last time lingered vaguely in her mind. Suddenly, she looked up and said, "I'll go see him."
With that, she stepped into the elevator, ascending to the VIP ward. She carefully pushed open the door, and the room was silent except for the sound of the ventilator. A caregiver carrying a stack of daily necessities walked up behind her and asked, "Not going in?"
Startled, Zong Ying composed herself and entered.
The caregiver recognized her and whispered, "He just took his medicine and fell asleep. Bad timing."
"It's fine," Zong Ying replied. "I just came to check on him."
The caregiver set down the items and began gathering dirty clothes and bedsheets. As she shook them out, a protective talisman fell to the floor.
Arms full, she glanced down but hadn't even gotten a clear look before Zong Ying bent to pick it up.
Zong Ying examined the talisman for a few seconds when the caregiver said, "Thank goodness. If this had gone through the wash, it would've been a disaster. They say Ms. Xing had someone fetch it all the way from Mount Emei yesterday. Very potent."
Mount Emei? That was indeed far.
Zong Ying handed the talisman back, and the caregiver carefully tucked it away for Zong Yu.
A boy his age should have been full of vitality, but that description clearly didn't apply to Zong Yu. He lay there, barely alive, his face pale, his heart walls as thin as paper—his life hanging by a thread.
As for the rainy-night accident, no one had yet provided a definitive conclusion. The general consensus was:
Xing Xueyi's driving error had caused the crash.
New Hope was too busy placating the victims' families and managing the negative publicity. No one cared why Xing Xueyi had taken Zong Yu out so late that night or how such a severe driving mistake could have happened while he was sober.
Outside, the rain continued to patter, while inside, the ventilator's soft, rhythmic hum filled the room. In that moment, Zong Ying suddenly felt that Zong Yu must have known the reason. But why had he said nothing about it last time, only abruptly uttering an "I'm sorry"?
As Zong Ying pondered, her phone rang.
She answered, and Sheng Qiushi said, "I just saw your Aunt at the entrance." With that, he hung up.
Warning her was his duty; whether she left was her choice.
Zong Ying had no desire for further contact with her aunt. To avoid another confrontation, she even took the stairs down.
The rain showed no sign of stopping. Ambulance sirens wailed incessantly outside the emergency room, and the streets were dotted with umbrellas as people hurried along, heads down.
Zong Ying had a headache and decided to go home to rest.
After ordering takeout and taking her medicine, she slept until evening.
When she woke, the sky was dusky, with just a sliver of light remaining. Zong Ying sat up, drank some water, and reached for a cigarette. While rummaging through her bag, she also pulled out the morning's express delivery box.
Smoking, she examined the package. The sender's address was a villa at the foot of Sheshan Mountain in Songjiang, with a phone number listed.
Suddenly, Zong Ying stubbed out her cigarette and dialed the number.The phone was answered by a young male voice. Before Zong Ying could introduce herself, he spoke first, "Hello, Miss Zong."
Zong Ying was taken aback. He continued, "I am Secretary Shen, working for Mr. Lü." After a brief pause, he asked, "You’ve received the package, correct?"
In just a few words, he exuded an air of flawless professionalism.
Zong Ying wasn’t adept at dealing with people, especially shrewd ones like him. She could only answer truthfully, "Yes, I’ve received it. I was wondering if I could arrange a meeting with Mr. Lü."
"One moment," he said. Within half a minute, he gave her a definitive reply: "Would 8 p.m. tonight at the Sheshan Villa work? I can pick you up."
His response was so swift that Zong Ying couldn’t help but wonder—was Lü Qianming right beside him? She quickly snapped out of her thoughts and replied, "No need, I’ll go myself."
Very few people knew about her mother’s past, and Lü Qianming was one of them. The fact that he had proactively sent the photos made Zong Ying even more eager to probe further.
She quickly got ready and left. The rain had lightened to a misty drizzle, and the car sped along the dimly lit road.
Feeling unwell from the medication, Zong Ying had no choice but to take a taxi.
Caught in the evening rush hour, the ride was slightly delayed. Nearly fifty minutes later, the taxi dropped her off at the villa’s entrance.
Before she could even step out, she saw someone approaching with an umbrella, wearing a polite smile. "Miss Zong, you’ve had a long journey. It’s a bit chilly today."
Zong Ying recognized his voice—it was Secretary Shen from the phone call.
She remained silent, and Secretary Shen tactfully didn’t press further, leading her straight into the villa.
The area was serene and elegant, the sound of rain adding to its leisurely ambiance. The living room resembled a meditation chamber, with a sprig of nandina slanting through a round window, its unripe berries exuding a cold, verdant hue amidst the lush green leaves. An incense stick on the long table hadn’t yet burned out, and a small kettle beside the tea set was heating water.
Lü Qianming rose from the cushion behind the table. "I didn’t expect to see you so soon. Please, have a seat."
It had been a long time since Zong Ying last saw him, and she was surprised to find he looked exactly as she remembered, which made her feel a bit more at ease. "Uncle Lü."
Just then, the water in the kettle began to boil with a bubbling sound. Lü Qianming moved it off the charcoal fire and asked, "Do you drink tea?"
Zong Ying answered honestly, "Not really."
He said, "Xiaoman didn’t either." Yet he still meticulously warmed the teaware and began the intricate ritual of brewing tea.
Zong Ying watched quietly as he spoke. "You received the photos?"
"Yes," she replied, pausing briefly. "But since it’s a group photo, shouldn’t each person have kept a copy? Why did you say it was inconvenient to hold onto?"
"Looking at it would only bring sorrow, stirring up too many memories from the past," Lü Qianming said, glancing up at her before lowering his head again to focus on the tea. "Your mother is gone, and so is your Uncle Xing. The original group from Xinsi’s founding days—some have passed, others have scattered. Seeing the photo again would be painful."
He poured the tea into small cups and handed one to Zong Ying. "By the way, has your Uncle Xing’s case been closed?"
Zong Ying picked up the teacup and answered, "Not yet. I’m not very clear on the specifics—I’m not handling this case."
Her reply was straightforward, leaving Lü Qianming with no further questions. He simply said, "Drink your tea."
So Zong Ying finished the tea in one sip.
After a long moment of contemplation, a question that had lingered in her mind finally surfaced as she set down the cup. "Uncle Lü, do you think my mother committed suicide?"
Holding the teapot steadily, Lü Qianming poured tea into another small cup and said, "I believe she didn’t."Zong Ying asked again, "Did you see her that afternoon?"
Lü Qianming set down the teapot and looked at her. "Yes, she mentioned she was planning to celebrate your birthday that evening."
Zong Ying's heart tightened abruptly. "What time did you meet? Did she say anything else then?"
Faced with Zong Ying's rapid-fire questions, Lü Qianming shook his head. "It's been too long; I can't recall the exact details."
He continued, "But knowing Xiaoman as I do, even though she wasn't in the best state during that period, she wouldn't have been the type to despair." He hesitated before drinking his tea and said to Zong Ying, "Are you planning to reinvestigate her case? If there's anything I can do to help, just let Secretary Shen know. You can also tell me directly if you encounter any difficulties."
This was a clear expression of concern. Zong Ying acknowledged the kindness, finished her round of tea, and sat for a while longer before realizing how late it had gotten. She stood up to take her leave.
Lü Qianming glanced out the window. "The rain's picked up again. It's hard to get a taxi here—let Xiao Shen drive you back."
Since he was stating a fact, Zong Ying didn’t decline.
As soon as she stepped outside, she saw Secretary Shen waiting with an umbrella.
He thoughtfully held the umbrella for her and opened the car door, clearly treating her as an important guest.
Zong Ying settled into the back seat and instinctively glanced around. In the storage compartment lay a stack of ticket stubs, the top one unmistakably labeled "Emei Mountain Scenic Area."
She didn’t pay it much mind and instead checked her watch.
This timepiece from 1937 displayed the current date: 2015.
There was only an hour left until 10 p.m. on September 15, 2015.
Lost in thought, she raised her gaze slightly and suddenly noticed Secretary Shen swiftly and discreetly removing the Emei Mountain ticket stub from the holder.
Zong Ying frowned imperceptibly.
The more flawlessly cautious the act, the more it reeked of trying too hard to cover something up.
OpenNovel