Night Wanderer

Zong Ying ultimately grasped nothing but air.

At the last second, Sheng Qingrang managed to pull his hand free and vanished in an instant.

Across the coffee table, only an empty rattan chair remained. The chime of a clock rang out right on time, striking six times in total.

In his struggle to break free from Zong Ying’s grip, Sheng Qingrang had been unable to take anything with him—his suitcase and briefcase were both left on the coffee table.

The dim yellow decorative lights glowed silently, and the room still carried only Zong Ying’s presence. The past several hours now seemed like nothing more than a vivid dream, with no tangible proof of reality.

Zong Ying sat quietly on the sofa for a while before suddenly spotting a stray metal cufflink on the carpet—likely dropped by Sheng Qingrang.

She picked it up and rubbed it between her fingers. The cold, hard texture of the metal was unmistakably real.

Zong Ying refused to believe a hallucination could feel this genuine—unless her mental state had deteriorated beyond remedy.

Abruptly, she leaned forward and pulled the briefcase from the coffee table. After a moment’s hesitation, she unclasped it and retrieved two document folders, a wallet, a fountain pen, and a bound notebook.

Simple, practical, neat, and orderly.

Opening one of the folders, she found the property deeds and other documents he had just placed inside. Flipping through them, she discovered a certificate—

Each corner bore the emblem of the Blue Sky with a White Sun, with a portrait of Sun Yat-sen at the top center. On the far right, traditional Chinese characters read: "Shanghai Bar Association Membership Certificate." Smaller text followed: "This certifies that Lawyer Sheng Qingrang is a member of this association, duly registered in the membership ledger and reported to all levels of the courts..." Below were his membership number and the association’s bylaws, signed by the Executive Committee of the Shanghai Bar Association with an official seal for authenticity.

After reading it thoroughly, Zong Ying returned the certificate to the folder and picked up the bound notebook. The first page held a class schedule for teaching purposes.

The header read "Soochow University School of Law," with the Chinese school motto at the bottom: "Nourish the righteous spirit of heaven and earth, emulate the perfect virtues of past and present." The classes were all scheduled for evenings—likely part-time teaching—covering Criminal Law and Comparative Law. On Saturday nights, he was listed as a mock judge for the law school’s moot court, with a note beside it: "Subject to availability, confirmation required."

Flipping further revealed a mix of Chinese and English schedule entries. One page was densely filled with French, its countless accent marks dizzying at a glance.

Zong Ying didn’t continue reading. Just then, her phone rang—an alarm.

Today was an early shift, and she needed to wash up and leave immediately to relieve the night-shift colleague at work.

Amid the sound of piano playing from Xiao Nan next door, she quickly changed clothes and locked all of Sheng Qingrang’s personal belongings in the safe.

By the time she finished preparing and stepped out, the neighbor had just finished playing a waltz.

Transferring from bus to subway, the morning public transport was packed and hectic. Zong Ying was pressed against the left door, barely able to lift a hand.

At the interchange station, a wave of passengers exited, only to be replaced by another surge boarding. Adjusting her stance, she took out her phone to check the news. The underground signal was spotty—even a simple image-laden article wouldn’t load fully. Only the trending comments remained visible—

Still filled with suspicion and conspiracy theories, their aggressive tone practically leaping off the screen.“The expectant parents in that accident were the most tragic, weren’t they? Two lives lost, three deaths—it’s horrifying. I heard they had a six-year-old at home. It should have been a happy family of four, but now it’s all ruined. Compensation won’t bring them back. The culprit is despicable—does he have powerful connections?”

“So many unanswered questions. Only the blind would believe the driver wasn’t on drugs!”

“A high-ranking executive at a listed pharmaceutical company’s research institute hiding drugs? How can anyone still trust Xinxi’s medications?”

“Why hasn’t the police released the autopsy results? What’s the relationship between the lead forensic examiner and Xinxi Pharmaceuticals? Is there some shady deal?”

“Someone should investigate that female officer in the photo—she looks suspicious. Pay attention to the color of her epaulettes; she’s a technical officer.”

“…”

Suddenly, a ding sounded as a group message notification popped up at the top of the screen.

Zong Ying tapped it open. The department group chat had already reached 99+ messages, the last one reading: “Hang in there, Teacher Zong! Hang in there, Qing-ge!” tagging both of them, followed by a praying hands emoji.

Qing-ge was Xue Xuanqing, the lead forensic examiner handling the case.

As for the female officer in the photo—that was Zong Ying herself. Technical officers had gray epaulettes.

A new voice message appeared in the group chat, sent by Xue Xuanqing.

Zong Ying pressed play and held the phone to her ear. Amid the roar of the subway, the words were muffled, but she knew exactly what was said:

“They can question my professionalism, but they have no right to doubt my ethics.”

The voice message ended, but the phone remained pressed to her ear. Zong Ying’s gaze shifted to the subway’s glass doors. The darkness rushing past during the underground journey finally gave way to light outside.

They had arrived.

Zong Ying followed the crowd off the train, grabbed breakfast at a convenience store, and headed to work. The massive institution continued operating smoothly.

She ran into Xiao Zheng and asked if he’d seen Xue Xuanqing.

Xiao Zheng replied, “Teacher Xue worked herself to exhaustion yesterday and took the day off.” Then, recalling the harsh online criticism, he grumbled, “Conclusions don’t come as fast as they think! This case is complicated. Working like dogs only to be doubted is infuriating.” The frustration and indignation of a newcomer spilled out.

Zong Ying opened her phone to call Xue Xuanqing but hesitated and ultimately didn’t dial.

Even without fieldwork, there was no shortage of tasks—mountains of paperwork awaited. Zong Ying spent the morning typing reports at her computer, then went to court in the afternoon. By the time she returned, it was nearly quitting time.

As her car pulled up to the gate, she saw a group of agitated people clashing with security, their words heated, teetering on the edge of physical confrontation.

Just a few steps away stood a small child, face etched with confusion and fear.

Zong Ying got out of the car.

“It’s been two days! Why haven’t we heard anything?! Investigation, investigation—how long will it take? You owe us answers! The culprit is dead—are we supposed to demand justice from a corpse?!”

“We understand your grief, but…”"More excuses! That's exactly what the traffic police said!" A middle-aged woman abruptly cut off the officer on duty, then yanked a young child forward, her tone growing increasingly urgent. "Look at this child, so young, and both parents died in the accident. For the sake of this child, you must hurry up and give us some answers!"

"That's right, that's right!"

She kept talking, and the relatives from the other two families chimed in. But the moment they spotted Zong Ying approaching, they immediately redirected their anger, grabbing her and zeroing in on her gray epaulets and badge number. "You were the officer at the hospital that day, weren’t you? You must know what really happened, right?"

Someone else chimed in, "Are you the medical examiner who did the autopsy?"

Zong Ying had no comment, but her silence only fueled their dissatisfaction, leading to more aggressive pulling and shoving.

The officers on duty stepped in to mediate, but the crowd only grew more chaotic, tugging and shouting. Out of the corner of her eye, Zong Ying noticed someone taking photos. Frowning, she sternly said, "Let go of me."

The woman refused to release her grip, but Zong Ying couldn’t retaliate physically. The officers’ attempts to calm the situation were repeatedly drowned out in the uproar.

Then, the child who had been standing at the edge of the crowd was gone.

Something was wrong!

By the time Zong Ying realized it, it was too late. In the midst of the adults’ shoving and pulling, the oblivious child had been knocked to the ground.

A gasp erupted from someone who had accidentally stepped on the child, and Zong Ying finally broke free from the woman’s grasp.

The back of the child’s head had hit the ground, and his shoulder had been trampled by an adult. Yet, the dazed child didn’t make a sound—no cries, no response when called.

Panic spread instantly, and the crowd scattered. Zong Ying knelt down to examine the child’s condition before stating firmly, "Take him to the hospital."

"Is it serious? Should we call an ambulance...?" The previously aggressive middle-aged woman was now trembling with fear, hastily bending down to pick up the child. But Zong Ying stopped her, her tone clinically detached. "Possible fractures. Move him carefully." She looked up at the officers. "Get a stretcher."

Silence fell over the scene.

Later, as the group debated which hospital was closest, the middle-aged woman suddenly insisted they go to the same hospital where the accident victims had been treated the day before—and demanded Zong Ying accompany them.

Zong Ying agreed.

The city was sinking into Friday evening gridlock. From the car, the bloated sun pressed heavily against the horizon, its dying light smothered by the exhaust-choked air. The endless rows of cars resembled a battlefield.

Zong Ying kept a close watch on the child’s condition, but her own state was deteriorating rapidly. She longed to roll down the window for a cigarette, but a glance at the child made her abandon the idea.

At the hospital, they could only go through the emergency department, followed by a series of tests.

The middle-aged woman grumbled while paying the fees, and the others muttered among themselves. From their conversation, Zong Ying learned that this woman was the child’s aunt—and the boy, only six years old, was the eldest son of the couple who had died in the July 23rd tunnel accident.

Zong Ying’s phone rang.

She answered, and Sheng Qiushi’s voice came through. "Zong Ying, your father is coming to the hospital soon. Will you be here?"

Zong Ying didn’t answer immediately. She stepped outside before replying, "I’m busy right now."

A brief silence followed before Sheng Qiushi said, "Alright. I’ll let you go then."

"Okay." Zong Ying waited for him to hang up, then leaned against the wall and lit a cigarette.The twilight deepened, and she spotted a familiar car driving into the hospital, her eyes darkening for a fleeting moment.

It was her father's car.

Zong Ying stayed in the emergency department until the child was admitted, close to nine in the evening. Hungry, she went to a Japanese barbecue restaurant diagonally across from the hospital and ordered a plate of beef short ribs and cold noodles.

Halfway through her meal, her father, Zong Qinglin, called.

Zong Ying answered the phone, and the voice on the other end said, "Come to the hospital."

Zong Ying replied, "Understood." She hung up and quickly finished the remaining half bowl of noodles.

Zong Qinglin summoning her at this hour could only mean one thing—he had just returned from abroad and needed to understand the accident details. As someone within the system, she was the most convenient source.

The outcome was exactly as Zong Ying had anticipated. The first thing Zong Qinglin said upon seeing her was—

"What exactly was found in your Uncle Xing's car?"

Zong Ying said, "The official report hasn't been released yet."

"Don't give me bureaucratic talk. Has it been tested?"

"It's not my case. I don't know."

Father and daughter stood at the end of the corridor in a standoff when a zoom lens appeared at the entrance.

The lens assembly moved and adjusted swiftly, emitting only faint sounds.

Zong Ying faintly sensed the disturbance, just as the ward alarm sounded.

Zong Yu's condition had taken a critical turn again. The on-duty doctor rushed in for emergency treatment, leaving the family members waiting outside, helpless.

The clock ticked away, the night growing deeper.

Waiting for the danger to pass was agonizing.

Zong Yu's mother, who hadn't slept in a long time, looked utterly exhausted, sitting dryly in a chair without a word. Zong Qinglin, having flown back after over ten hours on a plane and rushing straight to the hospital, was equally drained. Zong Ying leaned against the wall, unable to leave.

They were family. No one could rest first.

That night, Zong Ying felt she was on the verge of collapse. Finally, as dawn faintly broke outside and Zong Yu's condition stabilized somewhat, she could take her leave.

Her heart rate was alarmingly fast, her steps growing increasingly unsteady as she walked. Exiting the hospital, she found the vast streets empty.

Instinctively, she started crossing the road when suddenly, someone yanked her arm back, shifting her center of gravity abruptly—just as a speeding car brushed past her.

Zong Ying snapped awake, turning her head to see a familiar face—

"Why is it you?"

Sheng Qingrang gripped her arm, his breathing still uneven. Just as he was about to speak, the city struck six o'clock.

Everything was about to change.

Author's Note: Mr. Sheng arrived on a bicycle. As for why he appeared here breathless—that will be explained in the next chapter. And the next chapter is what you've been waiting for—

No spoilers.