Night Wanderer

Zong Yu's mother immediately recognized the phone inside the evidence bag.

The screen was cracked, and the aluminum frame case was dented in places. Xue Xuanqing pressed the power button, revealing a lock screen with a pitch-black wallpaper.

Yet she asked knowingly, "What is this?"

Officer Jiang replied, "As I mentioned earlier, it's new evidence."

Zong Yu's mother reacted as if facing a dire threat, demanding, "New evidence from where? What does it have to do with Zong Yu? Did you bring the proper documentation for this interrogation?"

Officer Jiang quickly assessed her with a downward glance and said, "Ms. Xing, there’s no need to be nervous. We’re only here to take a statement today, and it won’t take long. Regarding Zong Yu’s condition, we’ve already consulted his attending physician—he’s in a stable enough state to answer questions."

Zong Yu's mother lifted her head, her gaze inadvertently meeting Xue Xuanqing’s.

The intensity of Xue Xuanqing’s stare unnerved her. Standing alone in front of the hospital room door, she fumbled through her coat for her phone, her icy fingers swiping hastily across the screen. She had intended to call her lawyer but accidentally dialed Secretary Shen instead.

Deciding to go with it, she was met with an unusual automated message: "Sorry, the number you have dialed is currently switched off."

Zong Yu's mother pulled the screen closer, double-checking the name—

Secretary Shen. Switched off.

He was always meticulous and reliable—never once had his phone been off. This abrupt, one-sided severance of contact was undeniably strange.

At first, she froze. Then her pupils constricted sharply as a wave of intense unease crashed over her.

Xue Xuanqing watched coldly while Officer Jiang motioned for the colleague carrying equipment to enter the room first.

Zong Yu's mother snapped back to reality, spreading her arms in an attempt to block them. "You can’t go in!"

"Ms. Xing, Chinese law stipulates that citizens have a duty to testify. Please step aside."

Officer Jiang presented the official inquiry documents issued by the public security authorities. Zong Yu's mother snatched them but hadn’t even finished reading before another officer slipped past her into the room.

On the bed, Zong Yu opened his eyes, watching as the officer approached. The numbers on the bedside monitor began spiking wildly.

The officer set up a laptop and portable printer on the cabinet beside the bed.

Zong Yu struggled to breathe, his fingers gripping the sheets tightly.

Once the equipment was connected, the officer glanced at him and said, "Don’t be afraid. We’re just asking a few simple questions. If speaking is difficult, you can nod or shake your head."

Before the words had fully landed, Zong Yu's mother rushed back into the room and silently shut the laptop screen. Just as she reached for the printer, the officer immediately intercepted her with a warning: "Ms. Xing, do not interfere with official duties!"

She took a deep breath, tilting her head in reluctant concession. "Fine, you can question him—but I demand to be present."

The officer replied, "The content of the inquiry is confidential. You must leave immediately." He then moved to escort her out. Zong Yu's mother turned to look at her son, but Zong Yu averted his gaze as if unwilling to see her at all.

Her emotions surged to a breaking point. "I’m his legal guardian—why can’t I be present?!" she demanded repeatedly in rapid succession. But she was outnumbered and guilty, and in the face of a legally conducted police inquiry, her resistance was nothing but a futile last stand.

Officer Jiang signaled to the other officer. "Take Ms. Xing outside for a moment."Zong Yu's mother resisted stubbornly, but Xue Xuanqing suddenly stepped forward and escorted her out along with the officer.

Once the room was quiet again, the officer returned from outside.

Officer Jiang reopened his laptop, showed Zong Yu his credentials, explained the relevant legal obligations and responsibilities, and formally began the questioning.

The commotion outside soon died down, leaving only the sounds of medical equipment and Officer Jiang's voice in the room.

He took out a transparent evidence bag containing a phone and asked, "Do you recognize this phone?"

Zong Yu looked at the cracked screen and nodded.

He continued, "Our investigation confirmed that this phone and its SIM card were owned and used by your uncle, Xing Xueyi. When we cleared the accident scene on July 23, we didn’t find this phone there. Did you take it with you at the time?"

Zong Yu nodded.

He asked again, "On the evening of September 30, 2015, you handed this phone over to Zong Ying, correct?"

Zong Yu nodded once more.

Another officer typed rapidly beside them, recording the responses. Officer Jiang lowered his head, took the phone from the evidence bag, unlocked it, and opened the voice memo app. He played a recording dated July 23.

The audio captured the voice of a middle-aged man. From his tone and other indicators, he was in an extremely weak state while recording, with heavy breaths between words.

The recording played steadily in the quiet room as Officer Jiang observed Zong Yu's reaction.

Memories were painful. Zong Yu still gripped the bedsheet tightly, and his breathing through the oxygen mask grew faster.

Officer Jiang asked, "This recording coincides with the time of the July 23 accident. The speaker is Xing Xueyi—did he record this himself before his death?"

Zong Yu pressed his lips together. His breathing paused for a moment before he slowly nodded.

Officer Jiang continued, "Did he instruct you to take the phone?"

Zong Yu nodded again.

Officer Jiang opened the most recent recording on the phone. "While examining the phone's contents, we found a recording from September 19. Because this recording involves suspected illegal organ trade, we now need to verify the participants and the location where it was made." He asked, "Did you record this?"

Zong Yu remained silent until the entire recording finished playing before giving a belated nod.

Officer Jiang pressed further, "Were the two people in the recording your mother, Xing Xueshu, and Shen Kai, the secretary to the chairman of Mingyun Group? Was the recording made in the hospital?"

Zong Yu stayed quiet for a long time. Officer Jiang waited patiently, and even the typing beside them stopped.

The ward became eerily silent, but outside, Zong Yu's mother, Xing Xueshu, was restless to the point of losing her composure.

Xing Xueshu repeatedly tried to enter but was blocked each time by Xue Xuanqing.

The two stood in a standoff outside the door. Xue Xuanqing looked down at her and said, "I don’t know why you’re so desperate to stop Zong Yu from speaking, but his condition worsened because of the July 23 accident. Aren’t you even a little curious about what happened?"

Xing Xueshu clenched her fists and looked up. Xue Xuanqing continued, "With no mechanical failure and the driver fully conscious, how could the steering wheel suddenly malfunction? Doesn’t that strike you as strange?"

Xing Xueshu gritted her teeth, struggling to contain herself, before finally replying, "My brother had depression.""Having depression means it must be suicide." Xue Xuanqing followed her line of thought but then frowned and countered, "Why so certain? Have you even seen the autopsy report? Or in your eyes, does depression automatically equate to suicide? When Zong Ying's mother passed, you deemed it suicide. Now with Xing Xueyi, you're doing the same. Have you considered how much he adored Zong Yu? If he truly wanted to end his life, why would he drag his nephew along?"

Just as these words were spoken, the phone tightly gripped in Xing Xueshu's hand suddenly vibrated.

Xue Xuanqing glanced down while Xing Xueshu also looked at the screen. After a brief hesitation where she didn't answer, the call disconnected.

Xue Xuanqing abruptly sensed her growing unease and coldly demanded, "Ms. Xing, what are you feeling guilty about?"

Xing Xueshu remained silent, but from the hospital room, Zong Yu responded.

Faced with Officer Jiang's verification about "the recording participants and location," he finally uttered a weak, indistinct: "Yes..."

The rapid clatter of keyboard typing followed immediately, documenting the response before falling silent again.

Officer Jiang returned the phone to the evidence bag, glanced at the monitor's readings, and continued, "Now we need to ask about the events of July 23rd. If you remember clearly, please nod."

His tone grew more solemn, as if the questioning had finally reached the crux of the matter.

Zong Yu's finger, clipped to the pulse oximeter, twitched slightly.

Noticing the unstable readings on the monitor, Officer Jiang cautiously rose to press the call button. But just as his finger touched it, he felt Zong Yu suddenly grasp his other hand.

Zong Yu spoke haltingly, his lips moving beneath the oxygen mask: "I... know."

Officer Jiang paused momentarily before heading to the door and calling out, "Xiao Xue, come in here."

Xue Xuanqing turned and gave an OK sign, then said to Xing Xueshu, "If you don't want to talk, fine. The truth will come out whether you like it or not."

With that, she turned and entered the room, shutting Xing Xueshu outside.

Xue Xuanqing approached the bed, leaning over to read the transcript on the laptop screen, then glanced at the monitor before finally looking at Zong Yu.

Officer Jiang whispered to her, "I'm concerned his agitation might worsen his condition. Keep a close eye."

Xue Xuanqing nodded.

Officer Jiang retrieved another transparent evidence bag from his bag containing the bloodstained old report.

He asked, "This report was also handed to Zong Ying by you on September 30th. Is there a connection between the July 23rd incident and this report?"

Zong Yu closed his heavy eyelids and nodded with effort.

Officer Jiang pressed, "Why was this report in your backpack?"

Zong Yu didn't answer.

Officer Jiang continued, "Why did you and Xing Xueyi go out late that night? What happened in the car? Why did the steering suddenly fail?"

Still no response from Zong Yu, but his breathing grew increasingly labored. Then, unexpectedly, he raised his hand to remove the oxygen mask.

Xue Xuanqing stopped him, bending down to say, "Take your time. There's no rush."

He struggled to speak but found it too difficult. Xue Xuanqing switched her phone to text input and handed it to him. He lifted a finger, slowly tapping the virtual keyboard, laboriously typing one letter at a time.

Everyone waited quietly as the intermittent sound of keystrokes filled the room with an awkward, halting rhythm.After what felt like an eternity, the sound stopped. Xue Xuanqing took back the phone, straightened up, and read the screen word by word. Yet, she hesitated to hand it over to the officer taking the statement.

She turned her gaze to the boy on the hospital bed, and his eyes met hers.

Beneath the oxygen mask, his breathing suddenly became rapid. Tears welled up in his eyes, swirling before finally spilling over the corners in frustration, trickling into the outer ear.

The last line he had typed on the phone read: "I was wrong."