Night Wanderer

When he turned his head, Zong Ying hadn't paid attention to what he was saying. The distance was too close; the only thing she could clearly perceive in the dim light was his breath.

Some scents instinctively make one want to chase and capture them.

Yet after three seconds of eye contact, Zong Ying straightened up, and Sheng Qingrang averted his gaze, lowering his head to unscrew the pen cap before continuing to write as if nothing had happened.

He said, "If we take Xing Xueyi as the breakthrough point, there should be two traceable leads—one regarding your mother's accident back then, and the other concerning the accident he himself encountered."

"Since his car left together with your mother's car that day, we can investigate when his car returned and what he did that day—these can be pursued through former acquaintances."

"As for his own accident, I assume the police are already investigating. Setting aside the cause of the accident, if we focus solely on his belongings, there are roughly these directions—"

He scribbled rapidly in his notebook while Zong Ying watched, her head bowed.

First, he wrote "key physical evidence left on the day of the accident." Zong Ying immediately thought of the unopened bag of drugs found at the scene. Common sense dictates that no one would carry a whole bag of drugs on them for long, suggesting it likely came into Xing Xueyi's possession shortly before the accident. Therefore, anyone he had contact with during that period would be highly suspicious. Whether the drug supplier was connected to the accident and their origins are aspects the police are currently investigating. All Zong Ying can do is wait.

Next, he wrote "schedule records." Zong Ying pressed her lips together.

She wasn't familiar with Xing Xueyi's work habits, but his secretary must have relevant schedules. To uncover this, she would need to visit Xinsi.

Finally, he wrote "items Xing Xueyi actively concealed." Zong Ying frowned slightly.

He explained, "Generally speaking, if someone has secrets they don't want others to know, they'll hide them. But probing into this area crosses into privacy, making it highly difficult for those without authority over the deceased's belongings. These are just my speculations—perhaps they can give you some ideas. As for how to proceed, you're more professional than I am. Of course—"

Sheng Qingrang turned to face her. "If you need help, I'll gladly assist."

Zong Ying snapped out of her thoughts but remained silent. She took a few steps and finally settled into the recliner by the bed.

Unsure of her intentions but having said all he needed to, Sheng Qingrang also sat quietly. The room fell into a stagnant silence, broken only by their breathing and the occasional sound of cars speeding past outside.

Zong Ying sat there motionless, showing no sign of leaving.

Realizing she needed company at this moment but still having unfinished work—and knowing the typewriter might disturb her—he said, "I still have some things to complete. If you don't mind the noise, you can rest here for a while." He paused. "I'll stay with you."

Zong Ying nodded.

She said, "If I accidentally fall asleep, please wake me before you leave."

Sheng Qingrang looked at her, puzzled.

She lowered her head before meeting his gaze again. "I don't want to wake up each time only to find you already gone." After a brief pause, she added, "Without even a chance to say goodbye."

Hearing this, Sheng Qingrang's hand resting on the notebook unconsciously clenched.

He replied, "Alright."Zong Ying leaned back, and just as Sheng Qingrang was about to stand up to fetch her a blanket, she suddenly got up again. She walked straight to his desk, picked up the phone that was charging, unlocked the screen, opened the app store, downloaded a locator app, spent two minutes completing the registration and setup, and finally handed the phone back to Sheng Qingrang, saying, "If you need to find me, open this app to check my location. I’ve granted you access."

Sheng Qingrang looked at the screen and asked, "Can you also see my location?"

Zong Ying replied, "Yes."

After speaking, she returned to the recliner and sat down, opening the app on her own phone. On the map, the two dots representing their devices were now tightly nestled together.

The sound of the typewriter resumed in the room, punctuated by occasional pauses, inexplicably soothing. Zong Ying set her phone aside and, lulled by the rhythmic clatter of the typewriter, drifted off to sleep.

When she woke, daylight had already filled the room. Zong Ying sat up, finding herself alone.

She thought Sheng Qingrang had already left, but a glance at the time showed it was still a few minutes before six in the morning. Suddenly, footsteps sounded outside the room, and in the next moment, Sheng Qingrang entered carrying a breakfast tray.

He set the tray down on the small table. "I made breakfast while I was at it. Eat it while it's hot." Picking up his briefcase, he added, "I have to go now."

Zong Ying said, "Take care."

Sheng Qingrang responded with a "Will do," glanced at his watch, and hurried downstairs just before the clock began to chime.

As the clock struck, Zong Ying picked up her phone and reopened the app. Only one dot remained on the map—the other had gone offline and disappeared.

By day, this city became her battlefield alone.

After breakfast and tidying up the house, Zong Ying headed out to Xinsi.

The building's logo lights were off, and sunlight reflected off the glass windows, glaringly bright.

Due to recent exposure for allegedly concealing discarded trial data, Xinsi had been struggling to handle the influx of media inquiries. The reception desk was particularly hostile to visitors, especially since Zong Ying had specifically asked for the secretary of the director of the Pharmaceutical Research Institute.

As a core department of Xinsi, the Pharmaceutical Research Institute had already been thrust into the spotlight earlier in the quarter with the 723 Xing Xueyi drug case. Now, it had once again become a sensitive topic for the company.

The receptionist didn’t recognize Zong Ying and asked officiously, "Do you have an appointment?"

"No."

"Then please make one before coming."

Zong Ying picked up her phone, about to call an acquaintance at Xinsi, when someone suddenly called out to her, "Xiao Ying? What brings you here?"

Zong Ying put her phone away and turned to the speaker, greeting, "Uncle Chen."

Uncle Chen had worked at Xinsi for many years and was now one of the heads of the HR department. He gestured warmly, "Come up for a chat?"

Every situation needed a breakthrough. Even if she couldn’t meet Xing Xueyi’s secretary right away, gathering some information from the side would still make the trip worthwhile.

Zong Ying agreed with a "Sure," and followed him toward the elevator.

The marble floor gleamed spotlessly—no trace remained of the bloodstains from before.

Zong Ying instinctively looked up. The circular corridor above now had protective railings installed. Even if someone wanted to jump, it would take considerable effort.

Uncle Chen turned back and noticed her gaze, assuming she was reminiscing. He said, "It’s been so many years since your mother passed."

Zong Ying lowered her eyes and nodded.

At the elevator, Uncle Chen asked, "I heard you recently reduced your shares?"Zong Ying replied, "There's no use keeping it in hand, so I decided to get rid of it."

Since she answered like that, the other person had nothing further to ask.

The elevator doors opened, and Zong Ying gestured for him to enter first before following and pressing the close button. She asked, "Are you still in the same office?"

Uncle Chen answered, "Yes."

Zong Ying pressed the corresponding floor.

If she remembered correctly, Xing Xueyi’s office at Xinxi was also on the same floor.

The two stepped out of the elevator and walked down the hallway toward Uncle Chen’s office. Along the way, they passed Xing Xueyi’s office—the nameplate on the door hadn’t been removed yet.

Zong Ying asked, "Who’s using this office now?"

"Nobody for the time being. Old Xing’s belongings were just cleared out, and his family came to take them away last night."

As he spoke, Uncle Chen led Zong Ying into the neighboring office, instructed his assistant to make tea, and invited her to sit.

Zong Ying settled into the leather sofa, and Uncle Chen asked her, "Who were you looking for today?"

She answered, "I was just passing by and thought I’d drop in."

Her excuse was clearly not very convincing.

Uncle Chen chuckled. "You don’t strike me as someone with that kind of free time. Did you come to ask about something?"

Just then, the assistant brought in the tea. Zong Ying took the cup and said, "Then I’ll be straightforward. On the day my mother passed, did you see Uncle Xing?"

Uncle Chen unconsciously picked up a pen, gripping both ends and slowly rolling it between his fingers. "Yes."

"Where did you see him?"

"The old building."

"What time?"

"Evening." Uncle Chen leaned back against his chair, recalling further. "I was off work that day, but he rushed back in, saying he had overtime. Since we only crossed paths at the entrance, I didn’t ask for details. Why are you asking about this? Does Old Xing have something to do with your mother’s accident?"

Zong Ying clasped her hands together. "I’ve heard some rumors recently and was curious, so I wanted to ask."

Uncle Chen took a sip of tea and looked up at her. "What have you heard?"

Zong Ying brushed it off. "Too many things—it’s all a jumble, hard to make sense of."

Uncle Chen nodded. "There’ve been a lot of rumors in the company lately, unsettling people. Feels like someone’s deliberately spreading them. Just take them with a grain of salt—don’t take them too seriously."

Suddenly, the landline on his desk rang. He picked it up, listened for about ten seconds, then hung up. Looking back at Zong Ying, he said, "I have a meeting now. Will you stay a while longer, or…?"

Zong Ying stood up. "No, I have other matters to attend to. Thanks for your time."

She left the office with Uncle Chen, and as they passed the neighboring room, she couldn’t help but glance inside.

Xing Xueyi’s personal belongings had already been taken by his family?

As far as Zong Ying knew, the only family Xing Xueyi had left was Zong Yu’s mother. Had she taken his belongings? Where to—her own home, or Xing Xueyi’s?

Lost in thought, Zong Ying turned into the restroom. From behind the stall door, hushed voices drifted in:

"The former head of R&D and the current director of the Pharmaceutical Research Institute—both died unnatural deaths. Isn’t that too much of a coincidence? Even weirder, both died right before their new drugs were about to hit the market. It’s downright eerie."

"I heard the big boss blew up over this yesterday. Don’t talk about it openly in the company."

"But everyone’s gossiping about it—it’s not like I started it." The sound of running water stopped, and the voice continued, "Maybe he’s lashing out because he’s guilty of something shady. Who knows?"Following the rustling sound of tissues being pulled, she continued, "It doesn't matter. I was planning to change jobs anyway. This exposure happened to coincide with the strict inspection period. If penalties are imposed, Xinxi will be blacklisted immediately. It's likely that drug applications won't be processed for the next three years. Many projects will be stuck in limbo, essentially strangling the pharmaceutical research institute."

Xinxi's future was far from as bright as the gleaming glass exterior of its building. As Zong Ying stepped out, clouds had just obscured the sun, casting shadows over the pavement beneath her feet.

She returned "home."

Since boarding school in her teens, she had largely detached herself from this place, never coming back unless absolutely necessary.

The long-time housekeeper was startled to see her sudden return but still addressed her as she had in childhood: "Little Ying, you're back!"

As Zong Ying entered the living room, the housekeeper asked, "Have you eaten? What would you like? I'll make it for you."

Zong Ying sat at the dining table and replied, "Anything is fine."

Tying her apron as she headed to the kitchen, the housekeeper said, "No one else is home today, so I only made a little extra rice. How about some fried rice for you?"

The spacious living room was now empty except for Zong Ying. Sunlight streamed through the windows, fish swished their tails in the transparent aquarium, and the aroma from the kitchen wafted into the living room.

It felt like returning to years past—Yan Man busy with experiments, her father occupied with social engagements, leaving only her and the housekeeper at home.

Back then, after school, the housekeeper would fry a bowl of rice for her, open a jar of beef sauce, scoop a heaping spoonful onto the rice, quickly mix it in, and she'd wolf it down. Yet she'd still feel hungry, as if her stomach were a black hole that could never be filled.

The familiar dish was placed before her again, but Zong Ying ate slowly this time.

The housekeeper studied her cautiously. "You've lost so much weight! No matter how busy work gets, you must eat." Then she added, "What brings you here today?"

Finishing her meal, Zong Ying set down her chopsticks and gazed at the empty bowl. "I want to see my mother's room."

Hearing this, the housekeeper sighed inwardly and softened her voice. "Go ahead."

Zong Ying stood and made her way upstairs to the top-floor attic.

This room had once been Yan Man's studio, off-limits even to Zong Ying. After her departure, it became a storage space, remembered only by the housekeeper, who occasionally cleaned it.

Pushing open the slanted attic window, sunlight and wind rushed in eagerly.

As a child on rainy days, she would close this window tight, lie on her back on the floor with a book, listening to the steady drum of rain outside, feeling as if she were sleeping at the bottom of a well.

Zong Ying searched the room, hoping to find Xing Xueyi's belongings, but all the cardboard boxes looked ancient—none seemed to have arrived just yesterday.

Just then, the housekeeper came upstairs with a fruit platter. "Yesterday, Zong Yu's Mother brought over a bunch of things. I thought she meant to store them here, but she took everything away this morning. That spot by your feet was specially cleaned and cleared yesterday—seems it was all for nothing."

Zong Ying straightened up. "She took them away?"

The housekeeper handed her the platter. "Yes, this morning. No idea what it was all about."

Brought in yesterday, removed this morning—could it have been Xing Xueyi's belongings?

Accepting the fruit platter, Zong Ying listened as the housekeeper said, "I've got some chores to finish downstairs. You rest here awhile."After she left, Zong Ying simply sat down to eat some fruit. Before she could take more than a few bites, her headache flared up again. She dug out her portable pillbox, swallowed a few tablets, unfolded a lounge chair, closed the door, and went to sleep.

She slept until dark. When she sat up, she found three or four mosquito bites on her arm.

Getting up, she closed the window and glanced at her watch, startled to see it was already past nine in the evening. Surprisingly, the housekeeper hadn’t come up to wake her.

Zong Ying carefully closed the door and headed downstairs, only to faintly hear someone speaking in hushed tones near the staircase.

"I know. Everything’s already been moved to his apartment. You handle the rest yourselves. Don’t call me again anytime soon."

The voice carried a hint of irritation and anxiety—it belonged to Zong Yu’s mother.

Zong Ying waited for her to hang up and calm down before descending the stairs.

When Zong Yu’s mother turned and saw Zong Ying, she froze.

The housekeeper hadn’t had a chance to inform her of Zong Ying’s return, and she hadn’t expected Zong Ying to suddenly appear at the staircase. It was an extremely ill-timed encounter. Unsure whether Zong Ying had overheard—or how much—she was too guilty to even attempt hiding it, her panic written plainly across her face.

Zong Ying greeted her casually, offering no explanation for her presence, and simply said, "I’ll be going now," before heading downstairs.

She hastily changed her shoes at the entrance, but the housekeeper hurried after her. "Xiao Ying, leaving already? Take this sauce with you. Just keep it in the fridge—it’ll last for days!"

"No need," Zong Ying declined the gesture and walked straight out, only to run headlong into Zong Qinglin, who had just returned home.

Zong Qinglin was clearly in a rage. Without preamble, he demanded, "You went to the company today?"

Zong Ying looked up. "Yes."

"When you held shares, you showed no interest in the company. Now that you’ve sold them all off, you suddenly decide to visit?"

"I went to confirm some things."

"Confirm who killed your mother?"

"That’s not it." Zong Ying took a deep breath, but her phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out and answered the call—only for Zong Qinglin to suddenly swipe it out of her hand.

"Are you out of your mind? Going to the company to verify rumors, trying to tell everyone I killed Yan Man?!"