Night Wanderer

Have you read it?

Sheng Qingrang's face was mostly shadowed, with only one eye catching the fading sunlight that seeped into the car, his fine lashes glazed with a faint glow.

"That doesn’t matter. Whether I’ve read it or not, tomorrow is something I can’t avoid."

His voice was as unhurried as ever, but today, beneath that steadiness, there were traces of resignation.

Unavoidable, inescapable—that was the truth, his fate. It was entirely different from Zong Ying, who could walk away completely after tonight. Even if he had glimpsed another world, once dawn broke, he would still be dragged back here. He had his own path.

No matter how long summer days stretched, night would always come.

The restaurant at the Astor House Hotel was nearly full. Outside the window, the Garden Bridge was swallowed by darkness, the Broadway Mansions stood silent to the west, and across the way sprawled the consulates of various nations.

If memory served, in just over ten days, this would no longer be a haven. The Japanese would occupy the Broadway Mansions, foreigners would retreat into the concessions, and the Astor House Hotel would struggle to stay afloat as its clientele dwindled.

Close to ten o’clock, the faint strains of music from the ballroom could be heard.

Sheng Qingrang glanced at his watch and said to Zong Ying, "We should get ready to leave."

"Where should we wait?" Zong Ying asked.

"Somewhere with fewer people." To avoid startling bystanders.

"Here is fine." Zong Ying pushed her chair back and stood. "This building—the Astor House Hotel—is still in use in my time, though it’s been renamed the Pujiang Hotel." She looked up. "Come with me."

Zong Ying had explored thoroughly during the day. On the first floor, there was a narrow, curved hallway that, in the modern era, served as a historical exhibition corridor—quiet and rarely frequented.

With about five minutes left, they stood in the relatively enclosed passageway, the faint sound of singing drifting in and out.

Zong Ying leaned against the wall, Sheng Qingrang standing opposite her. Neither knew what to say, and time crawled by.

Outside, a song finally ended. Zong Ying reached out her hand to him.

Hers was slender and strong; his, broad and warm.

Their clasped hands were like a key to another door.

At exactly ten o’clock, a hotel staff member in modern attire walked past them, and several display frames appeared on the walls—black-and-white photographs, dense text, all recounting the past.

They were back. Zong Ying’s shoulder, pressed against the wall, seemed to relax slightly.

She didn’t let go. Instead, she tightened her grip on Sheng Qingrang’s hand and led him out of the corridor, straight to the hotel front desk.

"Any rooms available?"

"Yes."

"I’d like to book one."

"Only the Celebrity Suite is left. Is that acceptable?"

"Fine."

Sheng Qingrang stood to the side, watching her profile.

When silent, her lips remained firmly closed, the lines of her face sharp and striking.

Suddenly, she said to the receptionist, "Please try to arrange a non-smoking floor."

"Of course."

Sheng Qingrang lowered his gaze imperceptibly.

"May I see your ID?"

Zong Ying pulled out her wallet and handed over her ID. The receptionist then looked at Sheng Qingrang. "And this gentleman?"

Zong Ying said, "Just me."

The receptionist quickly entered the information. "That’ll be 1,580, with an 800 deposit. Cash or card?"

Zong Ying produced several bills and handed over her bank card. After entering her PIN, the POS machine spat out a receipt, and the receptionist tore one off for her to sign.Zong Ying quickly signed by the counter, and the receptionist handed her a room key and a deposit slip.

She took the key but wasn’t in a hurry to check in, turning straight for the exit instead. Outside, the Russian Consulate stood right across the street, the Waibaidu Bridge glowing in its entirety, while the Oriental Pearl Tower and the Shanghai World Financial Center blazed with light in the night—

A true city that never slept.

Her steps were brisk, and Sheng Qingrang walked slightly behind her without asking where she was headed.

Finally, she stopped and pushed open a glass door. Inside stood several machines, and she paused in front of an ATM, inserting her card as the machine prompted for a password.

Sheng Qingrang watched her input six digits—914914—and recalled the black umbrella he had once borrowed.

Printed on its surface was a Möbius strip, beneath which was a set of numbers: also 914.

A simple yet persistent person, he thought.

The ATM dispensed 2,500 yuan. Zong Ying kept 500 and gave the rest to Sheng Qingrang.

“Just in case,” she said, then added, “Use it sparingly.” With that, she tucked her wallet into her pocket and pushed the glass door open.

It was late, and the North Bund was nearly deserted. The passing thunderstorm had left the air damp and cool with the southern breeze.

The two returned to the Astor House Hotel, went upstairs, and entered the room. Zong Ying found the power box and inserted the key card, but even with the lights on, the room remained dim in a retro haze.

She turned to Sheng Qingrang and said, “Check out tomorrow morning. Return the key card and deposit slip to the front desk.” Then, carrying the paper bag, she stepped into the bathroom, changed quickly, and came back out, handing the bag to him. “Mr. Sheng, please stay here tonight. Don’t go back to the apartment.”

The situation at the apartment was uncertain, and it really wasn’t safe for him to return. Zong Ying’s arrangement was reasonable.

Sheng Qingrang accepted. “I’ve troubled you,” he said.

“There’s no point dwelling on it.” Zong Ying pressed her lips together, perhaps considering how to say goodbye. The room was unnervingly quiet, the antique furniture exuding a hazy, unspoken atmosphere, and the man before her seemed to blend right into it.

Time ticked on, quickening the pulse.

Suddenly, Sheng Qingrang extended his hand, breaking the silence with a formal farewell. “Well then… Miss Zong, goodbye.”

Zong Ying parted her lips slightly, then reached out and gave his hand a quick shake. “The times are turbulent. Take care of yourself.”

With that, she seemed to exhale in relief, turning to leave without even giving him the chance to see her out.

Sheng Qingrang opened the door and watched her upright figure grow smaller in the half-lit corridor until she turned a corner and disappeared.

Back in the room, he opened the paper bag to find a pale shirt and black trousers neatly folded inside, along with two removed safety pins.

Picking up a pin, he pressed it open under the dim light, exposing its sharp tip. But when he pressed it back, the point retracted—a restrained force, much like the Zong Ying he had seen.

He stood and opened the balcony door, watching as Zong Ying got into a taxi. The car drove along the Suzhou Creek and eventually vanished into Shanghai’s vast night.

Xue Xuanqing was waiting for Zong Ying at No. 699.

She had noticed something off about Zong Ying over a week ago—her mind seemed heavier, her mental state deteriorating. As a friend with a special bond, Xue Xuanqing couldn’t just stand by like Zong Ying’s family.

Just as she was about to give up waiting, Zong Ying walked in.

Zong Ying asked, “What are you doing here?”Xue Xuanqing nearly jumped at the sound but restrained herself, sitting silently on the sofa.

Zong Ying turned on the brightest light in the living room, finally seeing the investigation kit placed beside the sofa and a cardboard box filled with various pieces of evidence.

She asked, "How did you get in?"

"Picked the lock," Xue Xuanqing finally stood up, shoving her hands into her trouser pockets, answering calmly and truthfully before asking in the same tone, "Where have you been?"

The gentle inquiry carried concern.

Zong Ying replied, "Spent the weekend in Chongming."

"In Chongming." Xue Xuanqing repeated, "That's nice. Then why was your phone off during standby duty?"

"It broke."

"Why didn’t you call the team to report it?"

Zong Ying tilted her head slightly, glanced at the ceiling light, then lowered her chin with a sigh. "I didn’t want to. I’m exhausted."

"Fine." Xue Xuanqing let it go for now, pointing at the picked lock. "Why was it locked from the inside? Is there a ghost living here?"

Zong Ying glanced back at it and said, "I have nothing to do with this. I don’t know."

"Fine." Xue Xuanqing repeated, "Then it doesn’t matter. I’ll investigate myself." She bent down and picked up an evidence bag containing the mug Zong Ying had previously stored. "I’m ninety percent sure this is connected to the last break-in at your place. I just need to verify—"

She pointed at the lock and continued, "Whether the fingerprints on the latch match those on this mug."

Zong Ying sighed deeply. "You said you wouldn’t pry into things I don’t want to talk about."

"But do you still consider me a friend? Keeping everything to yourself, trying to be the hero all alone?"

Zong Ying pressed her lips tighter. After a long pause, she said, "This isn’t about being stubborn."

Some things could only be endured alone. Others could only share worry and concern, but that wouldn’t help.

Seeing her like this, Xue Xuanqing’s emotions were barely contained when her phone suddenly rang.

She answered, and the voice on the other end was urgent and excited: "Qing-ge, we’ve got a lead! Teacher Zong’s ID was just used to book a room at the Pujiang Hotel. Should we go there immediately?!"

The anger in Xue Xuanqing’s chest could no longer be suppressed. She hung up and glared at Zong Ying. "If you’ve already returned to your apartment, why did you book a room at the Pujiang Hotel an hour ago?"

Zong Ying clenched her jaw, her muscles tensing.

She said, "I lost my ID."

"Lost it? So someone else used your ID to book a room?" Xue Xuanqing’s tone grew sharper. She put down the evidence bag, stepped forward, and gripped Zong Ying’s arm tightly. "Then let’s go to the Pujiang right now! Let’s see who took your ID and get it back!"

"Xue Xuanqing!"

"Zong Ying! One lie needs a thousand more to cover it!" Her eyes were bloodshot. "I’m pushing you, but I—"

Xue Xuanqing suddenly couldn’t continue, but she refused to let go of Zong Ying, as if determined to get answers tonight. She dragged Zong Ying into the elevator and pressed for the first floor. As the elevator descended, Zong Ying closed her eyes silently and said, "Xue Xuanqing, you’re focusing on the wrong thing. What you care about has nothing to do with this."In Zong Ying's eyes, Xue Xuanqing was concerned about her physical and mental state, yet what Xue was fixated on now was this stranger Sheng Qingrang.

She had no intention of dragging Sheng Qingrang into the muddy mess of her life.

Xue Xuanqing pulled her out of the elevator, but the moment the building doors opened, they saw a familiar car parked on the apartment road—and someone stepping out of it.

Author's Note: Mr. Sheng, watching the POS machine spit out receipts and the ATM dispense cash: utterly stunned—

I’ve decided to later release a side story titled "Mr. Sheng's Various Firsts in the Modern World."

—

A few notes:

The relationship between Liza and Pujiang can be looked up online.

There’s a reason this farewell was so solemn.

Xue Xuanqing is a good person—don’t resent her for being pushy.

The Oriental Pearl Tower's summer lighting shutdown is at 10:30 PM, while winter shutdown is at 10:00 PM.