No one knew how long they had been listening.
Xing Xueshu's emaciated body swayed unsteadily, on the verge of collapse.
Zong Qinglin firmly grasped Xing Xueshu's shoulder with one hand, his gaze shifting to Zong Ying who had opened the door.
Since their unpleasant parting at the villa that day, father and daughter hadn't exchanged a single word. Now facing each other in this situation, turbulent waves churned in their hearts while the thin veneer of composure threatened to tear apart under the pressure. Zong Ying spoke first.
She said, "Just tell me one thing—were you involved in Mom's death?"
Each word was enunciated clearly, her voice icy in the quiet, empty hallway.
Zong Qinglin clenched his fists, his breathing visibly quickening, nostrils flaring. Several times he seemed on the verge of speaking but stopped himself. When he finally spoke, his voice trembled from clenched teeth: "What does her death have to do with me? Didn't I tell you to stop investigating?!"
He had always firmly believed Yan Man's death was due to mental illness. Over the years, even if doubts had occasionally surfaced, the theory of suicide was far easier to accept than the truth. Now with the recording presented before him, he would have to acknowledge not only that Yan Man didn't take her own life, but also that he'd been deceiving himself all these years to live with a clear conscience—"She was ill, her death was her own fault, it has nothing to do with me, and I don't want to investigate."
Zong Ying watched him intently, noting every shift in his expression. After a minute, she lowered her eyes in silent disappointment.
His long-held belief overturned, he had first shown shock, followed immediately by anger, then evasion and denial... but not a trace of remorse.
He wasn't involved in the fatal fall case, nor did he have any knowledge of it. But with the truth about Yan Man's abrupt departure revealed, he showed neither sympathy nor grief—only anger-fueled rejection and self-exoneration. A truly heartless reaction.
There was nothing left to ask. Zong Ying turned to leave, then paused: "What about the data tampering? Was that unrelated to you too?"
Struck on his sore spot, Zong Qinglin exploded: "What do you know?!"
"I truly don't understand much," Zong Ying replied coolly, glancing back at him. "But I do know this—if you hadn't falsified data for profit, Mom might not have died."
Xue Xuanqing stepped forward then to close the door. Shielding Zong Ying behind her, her gaze swept over Xing Xueshu, who was muttering to herself.
Amidst Xing Xueshu's dazed denials of "It's not true, it wasn't like this...", Xue Xuanqing said, "If not for Lü Qianming's bag of drugs, Zong Yu wouldn't have rushed to verify. Without the 723 incident, Xing Xueyi wouldn't have had to die. Yet you kept believing Lü Qianming would help you, even surrendering shares and Xing Xueyi's belongings. What a pity."
She then looked up at Zong Qinglin and advised, "You might want to investigate the relationship between your dear wife here and Lü Qianming. Even parental desperation shouldn't extend to plotting for a living person's heart."
With that, Xue Xuanqing reached out and shut the conference room door.
The long-standing discord between the Zong and Lü families had already planted doubts in Zong Qinglin's mind when he overheard Xing Xueshu's phone call earlier. He had planned to suppress his anger and settle matters at home, but Xue Xuanqing's provocation ignited him. The moment the door closed, he snatched Xing Xueshu's phone and frantically scrolled through her records. Within seconds, his eyes reddened with fury as he roared, "What have you done?"
Without support, Xing Xueshu collapsed onto the hallway floor. Looking up through tears, she cried defensively: "With Xiao Yu in this state, what have you done?! You didn't lift a finger! What choice did I have? What could I possibly do...?"Inside the room, the four remained silent, only hearing the argument outside flare up and then subside. Soon, the sharp sound of a phone being slammed to the ground echoed, followed by hurried footsteps, leaving behind only faint sobs—Zong Qinglin had thrown his phone aside, ignoring Xing Xueshu, who was crying nearly out of her mind, and walked away without a backward glance.
Officer Jiang sighed, but this was ultimately Zong Ying’s family matter, and it wasn’t appropriate to comment in front of her. He simply stood up and poured her a glass of water. “Have some water,” he said.
The crying outside continued. Zong Ying stared at the door, motionless.
Xue Xuanqing took the glass of water for her, trying to think of the right words to say when her phone suddenly vibrated.
The caller ID showed “Xiao Zheng.” Xue Xuanqing answered, listening as Xiao Zheng spoke rapidly on the other end. She only responded at the end with, “Got it, keep an eye on it,” before hanging up.
Officer Jiang asked, “Something from the bureau?”
Xue Xuanqing nodded. “Shen Kai’s been detained.”
Zong Ying turned to look at her. “Shen Kai?”
Xue Xuanqing replied, “The fingerprints on the drug bag and the photos matched—but they weren’t Lü Qianming’s. They belonged to his secretary, Shen Kai.” She pocketed her phone and pursed her lips in thought before adding, “Lü Qianming’s making some moves now, probably trying to get Shen Kai to take the fall for him. But sacrificing a pawn to save the king only works if the pawn is willing. Shen Kai doesn’t seem like an ordinary guy. Even if he’s willing to shoulder the blame for Lü Qianming, with arson, drug involvement, organ trafficking, and your mother’s case—just one solid piece of evidence on any of these, and Lü won’t escape. Besides, Xing Xueshu’s already turned against him. Watching them tear into each other will be quite the show.”
Officer Jiang, feeling stifled, got up and opened the window.
A damp, chilly wind rushed into the room, rustling the interrogation notes on the table.
Xue Xuanqing’s phone rang again. She glanced at it, intending to ignore it, but answered anyway. The person on the other end urged her to attend a scene. “I’ve got something going on right now,” she said. “Can Xiao Cui cover for me?”
The reply came: “Xiao Cui’s already out. Get there as soon as you can—I’ll send you the address.”
Xue Xuanqing didn’t want to leave at a time like this, but with an urgent task at hand, she had no choice.
She hung up, frowning as she brushed her bangs aside, trying to figure out how to explain. But Zong Ying spoke first: “Go.”
Xue Xuanqing looked up at Zong Ying’s face. The exhaustion masked all inner turmoil—the more she forced herself to stay composed, the more it likely hurt.
She had no comforting words to offer, only reaching out to squeeze Zong Ying’s hand firmly. “Get some rest early. Call me if you need anything.”
Xue Xuanqing left. Outside, Xing Xueshu had been taken away by some nurse. Officer Jiang waited another half hour before finally deciding to leave as well.
The conference room was now empty except for Zong Ying. Ten minutes later, doctors and nurses began filing in with takeout boxes for lunch. Amid the aroma of food, she stood and walked out. Passing Zong Yu’s ward, she paused briefly. Facing the “No Visitors” sign, she finally lowered her head, gripped her umbrella, and headed for the elevator.
Dark clouds loomed over the city. Though dusk had yet to fall, the daylight had already dimmed.
Raindrops pelted the black umbrella, the sound so sharp it felt like they were hitting her eardrums directly.On the last day of the Golden Week, an accident caused by rain worsened the traffic congestion. Taxi drivers honked impatiently, buses were trapped in the middle of the road with no way forward or back, and ambulances wailed urgently for passage. Only the non-motorized vehicles on the roadside sped through the rain.
Zong Ying couldn’t remember how long she had been driving before she finally reached Apartment 699.
The entrance was littered with fallen leaves from the plane trees. Once the withered brown branches were completely bare, they would silently endure the entire winter.
The cold gloom hit her as soon as she stepped inside. A "Under Maintenance" sign hung at the elevator entrance, leaving the stairs as the only option.
The dim light filtering through the narrow windows was barely enough to illuminate the stairwell. The cramped space reeked of dampness and dust.
Zong Ying climbed to the top floor in one breath, leaning against the freshly whitewashed wall, her heart pounding wildly while her breathing remained restrained.
When she was young, the apartment’s elevator hadn’t been replaced yet and often malfunctioned, forcing her to take the stairs. Huffing and puffing her way up, she would slump by the door, panting, and complain loudly, "Mom, the elevator’s broken again! I’m exhausted from climbing!"
Yan Man would open the door, glance at her breathless state, and say, "If climbing stairs tires you out this much, it’s no good. See why I always tell you to exercise more?"
Instead of sympathy, she’d get a lecture. Though it made her a little unhappy, at least the door would open, and her mother would be there.
She fished the key from her pocket, clenched it tightly, then stared blankly ahead—
No matter how much she whined or complained now, all that awaited her was a tightly shut door.
After years of solitude, the pain surged over her all at once in this moment, tightening her chest, swelling her eyes, and reddening the tip of her nose.
Light footsteps tapped against the old wooden floor, and the overhead corridor light flickered on. Xiao Nan from next door appeared beside her, holding out a box of pastries. "Sis, you’re finally back! I’ve given these to all the other neighbors—only yours is left! Today’s my tenth birthday, and my mom told me to give this to you!"
Her voice was bright and childish, brimming with birthday cheer, completely oblivious to Zong Ying’s distress as she chattered on. "There’s a strawberry cake in the box—it’s super delicious! But my mom said it spoils easily, so you should eat it soon." She tilted her head up, wide-eyed, and asked, "Sis, when’s your birthday?"
The corridor light flickered off abruptly, but Zong Ying’s only response was silence.
In the dimness, Xiao Nan peered closely and saw Zong Ying with her head bowed, stifling sobs behind tightly pressed lips.
Tears splashed onto the floor. The wind rattled the old corridor window with a clatter.
That same day, in a city further inland, rain was also falling.
At 10:06 p.m., Sheng Qingrang sat in a convenience store, turning on his phone with only 7% battery left to call Zong Ying.
Her mobile was switched off, and the landline went unanswered.
Remembering her broken phone, he figured she hadn’t gotten it fixed yet. By now, she was probably already admitted to the hospital, so naturally, no one would answer the home phone.
He powered off his phone and shifted his gaze to the express delivery sign hanging on the convenience store wall.
Turning to the clerk on duty, he asked, "If I send something from here to Shanghai now, what’s the fastest it can arrive?"
The clerk, busy discarding expired food, didn’t even look up as he answered casually, "To Shanghai? Next-day delivery at the earliest."
Next-day delivery.Sheng Qingrang quickly opened his briefcase, took out paper and pen, and lowered his head to write a letter.
The clerk on duty finished their task and glanced at him. This old-fashioned-looking intellectual was intently writing his letter, meticulously folding it before placing it into an express envelope. He carefully wrote the recipient’s details on the mailing label, then handed the envelope solemnly to the clerk. "Please, make sure it’s sent as soon as possible," he said.
After paying, the clerk kindly checked the box for SMS delivery confirmation for him. Outside, the heavy rain had stopped, and the city, illuminated by streetlights, was quiet and serene. Indoors, the air was thick with the aroma of food boiling in soup pots.
A television mounted on the wall played the late-night news. Amid the rapid switching of scenes, he caught sight of a familiar architectural logo—
re.
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