Chapter 109 “Light rain, light rain…”
Only then did Shengfang realize that she had been pushed away by Dr. Cheng.
He sat on the side, his short arms unable to reach either the boiled shrimp or Qingzai.
Shengfang wanted to take over the space, so she squeezed back between the two of them, pushing Cheng Xinglang aside with her round head, and grumbling with a wrinkled little face.
They were muttering to themselves, and it was unclear what they were saying.
Cheng Xinglang poked his puffed-up cheek: "'Hmph,' what? Is it a little pig?"
Laughter echoed from the food stall.
The glass beer bottles clinked together, and my colleagues jokingly urged the boss to bring out a few more dozen beers. This rare moment of relaxation finally allowed my tense nerves from the past few days to unwind.
As the party ended, Xu Jiale, slightly tipsy, jokingly put his arm around Cheng Xinglang's shoulder and said, "Offending someone's uncle won't do you any good!"
Not far away, Zhu Qing gazed at the tall, slender figure under the moonlight.
Cheng Xinglang leaned slightly forward to speak with Xu Jiale, a casual smile playing on his lips. This reminded her of what Professor Yang had said: he acted too normally. Was this normalcy due to extreme restraint, or genuine inner strength?
At the entrance of the food stall, everyone said goodbye, and those going the same way shared a taxi. Tomorrow they could rest another day. These past few days, every minute had to be used in half, working day and night non-stop was the norm, their steps never stopping. Now, suddenly being able to rest properly felt a little strange, and everyone was saying they didn't know what to do.
Haozai made a dialing gesture and shouted, "Officer, someone isn't used to holidays, call him back to work overtime."
"Hello, hello, hello—"
"Don't snitch!"
The sounds of laughter and chatter drifted away on the wind.
The streetlights cast shadows on the ground, and Shengfang began her endlessly entertaining game of stepping on shadows, hopping between the intertwined shadows of her niece and Dr. Cheng.
Zhu Qing voiced her doubts: "Why do you say the truth is not yet complete?"
In the afternoon, Cheng Xinglang went to the Organized Crime and Triad Bureau (OCTB) to supplement his statement.
His written record and the clues he uncovered contradicted the suspect's testimony. Like the blocks in Tetris, they weren't perfectly aligned; their haphazard arrangement couldn't dispel doubts.
“Children who are eligible for organ transplants must undergo rigorous physical examinations, but my brother was not selected.”
Zhu Qing pondered for a moment: "If the criminal gang had just grabbed a child and sent them directly into a container to be shipped overseas, Tongtong's situation wouldn't have caused Ke Xiaobo so much trouble. It was because the medical examination met the requirements that he had to send Tongtong away, which led to the subsequent disputes."
Cheng Xinglang nodded: "And that murderer who escaped from the mental hospital and was found again... At that time, Ke Xiaobo had to deal with Tongtong's adoption dispute and track down the escaped patient. Where did he find the energy?"
"How could a mentally ill person both indiscriminately kill and precisely murder my parents?"
And then there's Ke Xiaobo's death.
“A slip-up? I don’t believe it.” His voice lowered. “But even eighteen years ago, the Mingde Mental Sanatorium wasn’t a place where just anyone could come and go as they pleased. An outsider sneaking into the hospital to commit murder? Wei Feng didn’t mention that.”
Pedestrians strolled leisurely in twos and threes along the street.
The light fell on their faces, sometimes bright, sometimes casting shadows.
It's like a truth that's only partially revealed.
Shengfang is still stepping on his shadow, his short legs busy at work. He needs to change and adjust the angle to find the right position so that the shadow will be stretched long by the light, becoming the biggest adult, as majestic as a giant or the Lion King.
However, just as he was having fun, he accidentally tripped over his own feet, lost his balance, and his chubby body was about to hit the ground with his little face.
In that instant, two hands, one on the left and one on the right, reached out simultaneously and lifted him up steadily.
Under the dim streetlights, the shadows of the three people intertwined, casting warm silhouettes.
The little girl, with her short legs dangling in the air, asked, "Is this a swing?"
His little feet were kicking, showing no sign of fear.
Fangfang felt very safe.
He knew that Qingzai and Dr. Cheng would protect themselves.
"Should we swing a little higher?"
"Aaaaaaahh ...
Amidst the laughter, Cheng Xinglang turned his head and met Zhu Qing's smiling eyes.
Those heavy worries and doubts were temporarily put aside; at least for this moment, he was not alone.
It was on this gentle night that Zhu Qing's clear voice rang in his ears.
"Cheng Xinglang, should we continue the investigation?"
...
The children's mood today is as bright as the weather after a rainstorm.
Sheng Peirong and Aunt Ping were listening to the sound of the uncle and nephew entering the house.
Although Shengfang is always jumping around, those who know him well can tell just by the extent of his jumps how much fun he had.
The two of them chatted about gossip at home all day, their faces beaming with smiles that seemed to say they hadn't had enough.
At this moment, Sheng Peirong was talking to Aunt Ping. She was going back to the company the next morning, and her younger brother had to go to school. Aunt Ping would be alone at home then, and it would be lonely again.
"It's been so lively for several days, I'm still getting used to it," Aunt Ping said with a smile. "I'm just at home researching some new recipes, so you can try them when you come back."
"What?" Sheng Fang, always quick to pick up on key words in conversations, said, "I have to go to school tomorrow?"
"Otherwise what?" Zhu Qing ruffled his hair. "You've already gotten off easy today."
Fangfang protested quietly, clearly dissatisfied.
How could he get off easy? He was the one who specially stayed home with Qingzai, but she slept until dark!
"You yourself were drooling in your sleep," Zhu Qing said.
Fangfang tilted her chubby little face and retorted, "No way!"
Sheng Peirong and Aunt Ping watched them angrily as they went upstairs one after the other.
In the blink of an eye, it was as if nothing had happened, and they were back to being friends.
The uncle and nephew both slept from dawn till dusk, and now they are incredibly energetic.
Even counting sheep can't help them sleep; they can even count out an entire grassland of lambs.
Suddenly, Shengfang remembered something important, ran back to the children's room, and returned the notebook to Zhu Qing.
It contained her schedule for beating up children.
Zhu Qing tried to recall, but couldn't remember at all why she wrote that sentence.
Why should I hit you?
"Perhaps Qingzai is in a bad mood."
Zhu Qing squinted her eyes.
His innocent little face was another skill he had recently mastered.
"If you can't remember it, it means it's not important!" Fangfang cleverly changed the subject, stood on tiptoe, and patted her shoulder like a little adult, "You should remember some useful things in the future."
“These are all useful,” Zhu Qing said, flipping through her notebook to prove herself.
The notebook contained various details of the case.
She would repeatedly review and analyze the suspicious contact lenses of the victims in the double suicide case, the abnormal distribution of rigor mortis in the Wei Huasheng case, and the behavioral analysis of copycats in the latest case. Whenever the investigation of a case reached a deadlock, she would review and analyze them repeatedly.
As she quickly flipped through the pages, a painting caught her eye.
That was painted by Feng Ningyun at the Jianuoan Sanatorium.
The painting depicts two figures from behind.
Feng Ningyun hid in the shadows and saw the murderer of the indiscriminate killing case from years ago, as well as a man with twisted scars from the back of his hand to his forearm.
Later, Mo Zhenbang believed that they should not rely too much on clues provided by patients, so this line of inquiry was temporarily interrupted.
"Is this also a clue?" Sheng Fang asked curiously, pointing to the painting. "Two short-haired adults."
“My lord…” Zhu Qing suddenly froze.
She immediately dialed Cheng Xinglang's mobile phone.
“We’ve been comparing the male employees at Mingde and Weisheng Pharmaceuticals, but what about the women?”
"What if it's a woman who isn't even on the pharmaceutical company's list?"
There was a brief silence on the other end of the phone.
“So…” Cheng Xinglang’s voice came through, “we need to re-screen the female medical staff who have been working at Mingde for eighteen years.”
Shengfang looked into her niece's sparkling eyes and proudly puffed out her little chest.
He cupped his round face in his chubby little hands, as if he were holding a bright star.
"She's a lucky star!"
...
The truth is still shrouded in mystery, and Cheng Xinglang will definitely continue to investigate.
But this time, he wasn't searching alone.
Early in the morning, Sheng Peirong spread Aunt Ping's homemade jam on toast when she heard a car drive into the courtyard.
"Dr. Cheng is here to pick us up!" Shengfang's little feet dangled, and with a "thud," she jumped off the high chair.
"Mom, we're leaving now."
When Sheng Peirong stood up, she only saw the backs of the uncle and nephew hurrying away.
"What happened?" Sheng Peirong stood there, stunned. "Wasn't Coco on vacation?"
Aunt Ping poked her head out from the kitchen, looking equally bewildered: "I don't know..."
As the car drove out of Kadoorie Hill, they were going to take Fangfang to kindergarten first.
The children felt that the adults' arrangements were really unreasonable.
When Qingzai wasn't home, he couldn't go to school and would spend his days squatting on the lawn in the yard, almost naming every single blade of grass. But now, Qingzai finally had some free time, and this little kid had become incredibly busy, having to rush to kindergarten on time every morning!
Fang Fang tried many tricks in the back seat, pleading and cajoling, even pretending to sleep on the seat, puffing out his cheeks and making a "gurgling" snoring sound.
However, it was all in vain; the cold-hearted Madam remained unmoved.
"If we need reinforcements, we'll contact you first, but we'll have to wait until after school."
The car was already parked in front of Weston Kindergarten.
With things having come to this, Shengfang could only drag her heavy steps and slowly get off the bus.
At the school gate, Yesi and Jinbao shot over like two little rockets.
They hadn't seen flowers in full bloom for a long time. The children expressed their enthusiasm and joy most directly, sticking together in a tight embrace, their little faces pressed together.
Zhu Qing turned around and opened the car door again.
Little Jinbao saw Fangfang's motorcycle driver through the car window.
The confident little child raised his hand above his head and waved to him.
The three children entered the school gate together.
"Fangfang, where did they go?"
"Investigating a case."
Coconut Baby tilted its head and asked innocently, "Why didn't we take you? Aren't you a policeman?"
The flower froze for a moment, its little head spinning wildly, unable to answer at all.
"We're breaking off contact for one hundred minutes," the young master of the Sheng family announced coldly, his short legs moving rapidly as he walked ahead alone.
"Wait, how long is 100 minutes?" Coconut asked from behind.
"Let me calculate," Sheng Fang said without turning his head. "One hour and forty minutes."
"Wow, that's taking so long. I'll go find someone else to play with then—"
...
The Jianuoan Sanatorium used to be Zhu Qing's second "home". Now, Sheng Peirong's rehabilitation program is not yet completely finished. The medical staff here all recognize her, so she can come and go without any hindrance.
In the garden, the warm sunlight gilded the grass and trees with a golden edge.
Rong Zimei is not here today.
When Zhu Qing presented her identification, the nurse in charge of caring for Feng Ningyun nodded as if it were commonplace. This policewoman had been visiting Feng Ningyun frequently lately, and the patient didn't seem to mind her presence.
Feng Ningyun sat in a rattan chair, basking in the sun.
Her mental state fluctuated, but her diagnostic reports over the past twenty years clearly stated that she was not aggressive. It was precisely for this reason that Canoan was willing to admit her.
The atmosphere at this sanatorium is much more gentle than that of a mental hospital.
Although there are dedicated people accompanying them throughout the process, unlike Mingde, they do not strictly adhere to fixed times even when going outdoors for fresh air.
Zhu Qing and Cheng Xinglang were still there for the person in the notebook who offered them "candy".
At that time, Feng Ningyun had been ill for only a few years and was sent to the Saigon branch of Mingde Specialist Hospital. The hospital was strictly managed, and when Feng Ningyun slipped out of the ward, the distance was too great, and she couldn't even see the other person's profile, let alone their face.
Can you confirm whether it's a man or a woman?
Feng Ningyun's eyes were unfocused.
"Can you hear what they were talking about?"
She slowly shook her head.
They made a special trip for this "answer." However, investigations are often like this: a lot of futile efforts might yield a fleeting clue, or nothing at all.
Cheng Xinglang opened his notebook and stood to the side: "Do you still remember the color of the scar on your arm?"
His tone was gentle, and his voice wasn't as harsh as Mo Sir's.
Feng Ningyun was no longer as panicked as she had been when facing Mo Zhenbang, but the clues she provided were really limited.
“Purple, red…” Feng Ningyun murmured softly, frowning, “Like earthworms.”
Cheng Xinglang's pen paused on the paper.
“Red and purple are too general,” Zhu Qing said. “Eighteen years have passed; perhaps new wounds have covered old scars, or perhaps scar removal surgery has been performed. It’s difficult to use these as key evidence.”
The sun was shining brightly when we left.
Zhu Qing watched Cheng Xinglang's retreating figure.
Over the past month, the clues he uncovered have advanced the case, yet he remains persistent.
“Cheng Xinglang,” she suddenly spoke, “you know the hope is slim.”
His steps stopped in front of the sanatorium gate.
Perhaps the hope is slim, and all efforts will be in vain, but to give up on a belief that has lasted for eighteen years requires more courage than to continue the pursuit.
“I know.” His voice remained firm.
...
After leaving the Canoan Sanatorium, they drove back to the Yau Ma Tei Police Station.
There were still officers working overtime in the CID office. When Zhu Qing came in, they handed her a stack of photocopied documents.
"These are the documents you requested on the phone just now, right?"
"The Organized Crime and Triad Bureau (OCTB) has already investigated Ah Bao, who was shot dead at the dock. His autopsy results match the footprints at the scene perfectly."
"In addition, when I visited a food wholesale market in the West District, the owner confirmed that he had bought that soft-centered chocolate. Such chocolate is now rarely seen on the market, and the owner had not planned to restock, so he had a strong impression of the brand of chocolate that he specifically asked for. In addition, this Ah Bao looks fierce, so he remembers it very clearly."
"Chocolate..." Zhu Qing repeated softly, exchanging glances with Cheng Xinglang beside her.
The serial killer from years ago had already died in a car accident. Wei Feng was not at the scene of the crime, a fact confirmed by the Organized Crime and Triad Bureau (OCTB). So how did Ah Bao know that a specific type of chocolate was left at the scene? This detail has never been mentioned in the police's official statements.
"There was a third person present at the time."
"It was the back view that Feng Ningyun saw."
This aligns with Cheng Xinglang's initial speculation.
At the time, he believed that the person who killed his parents and took his younger brother away might not be the same person.
The police station canteen was crowded at noon. Zhu Qing and Cheng Xinglang found a seat with their trays.
After the meal, they returned to Cheng Xinglang's office.
He has not yet completed the reinstatement procedures after returning to China.
This place has temporarily become their exclusive office space, with the desk piled high with files and documents from the Mingde Mental Health Center.
The two sat facing each other, engrossed in reviewing documents. The office was so quiet that the only sounds were the rustling of paper under their fingers and their soft breathing.
Cheng Xinglang's gaze inadvertently swept over it.
Their eyes met in mid-air.
"Bang--"
The office door was pushed open.
Ben leaned against the doorframe: "Why are you occupying the office if you're not working?"
Cheng Xinglang smirked: "Ben sir wants to collect rent?"
"No, no." Ben raised his hands in surrender, not forgetting to tease as he closed the door, "I know what's good for me."
The table was covered with photocopies of the documents, and Feng Ningyun's testimony became their only direct lead.
Zhu Qing's fingertips hovered over the work records of the deceased, Lai Danhe.
“All the scars have been checked.” She frowned. “Besides the assistant, Vice Dean Zong also cooperated by having other staff members assist with the comparison, but—”
Her gaze fell on the blurry signature in the lower right corner of the nurse's work record, and her voice abruptly stopped.
"What's wrong?" Cheng Xinglang looked up.
“Look at this character ‘Song’,” Zhu Qing pointed to the signature. “‘Song’ and ‘Zong’ are easily confused.”
Cheng Xinglang leaned forward and wrote a hastily written character “宗”.
The same radical, over time, has become blurred and illegible, with the lower half almost impossible to recognize.
The signature on the deceased nurse Lai's work record, the short-haired figure described by Feng Ningyun, the medical staff who worked at Mingde eighteen years ago...
All the clues finally pointed to the same person.
"The vice president of Mingde Mental Health Center." Zhu Qing looked up. "Zong Zhuoxian."
...
Zhu Qing strode through the corridor, clutching the documents she had just organized in her hand.
Twenty minutes earlier, she had finished reporting her latest findings on the phone. Now, as she pushed open the door to the CID office, she saw several colleagues who lived nearby already gathered there.
“Since I’m just idling at home anyway, I might as well come back and investigate the case,” Liang Qikai said.
"Working this hard, there won't be a 'Best Attendance Award' at the end of the year," Mo Zhenbang said with a smile.
"Afternoon tea is fine as long as someone else treats me." Xu Jiale rushed over in a hurry. "These past two days I've only been allowed to drink the soup my dad makes, and I can't even touch a sip of ice water. I don't know where this old man learned his health regimen."
A burst of laughter erupted in the office.
"Uncle Li is living a more comfortable life. He can recuperate in the hospital with peace of mind and has someone to take care of him."
"It was just a minor scratch; he wouldn't even blink before."
"It's so different when someone cares about you now!"
Zeng Yongshan looked up from the case file: "Isn't this normal? It's like a child who doesn't cry when they fall down, but only bursts into tears when their parents see it."
Amidst the laughter and chatter, the officers continued their work.
Although the case had been transferred to the Organized Crime and Triad Bureau (OCTB), Mok Chun-pong was known for his unconventional methods, and his subordinates shared his temperament. The case was initially handled by the CID, and even adhering to the principle of seeing things through, they were required to clarify all the doubts.
On the computer screen, the officer pulled up a file photo.
Zong Zhuoxian in the photo has a neat short haircut.
“Eighteen years ago, she worked at the Saigon campus of Mingde College, but she wasn’t the vice president at the time.”
"I used to have short hair, but now I've grown it long."
As the investigation deepened, another crucial piece of information emerged.
“Zong Zhuoxian and Wei Feng both lived in Dingping Village, Yuen Long when they were young, and their families were only two alleys apart.”
"Later, her parents went into business, and she moved several times, so her household registration was constantly changing, and only the latest address was recorded."
"A close relationship?" Xu Jiale raised an eyebrow. "Would someone like Wei Feng help someone cover up something like this without some special connection?"
The files continue to unfold, revealing Zong Zhuoxian's work history, marital status, and reproductive records...
"Three years after the marriage, her husband died of a sudden heart attack, leaving behind their young daughter, Huo Xiaoyu."
The archives piece together Zong Zhuoxian's life trajectory.
Until one message silenced everyone.
"Her daughter, Huo Xiaoyu, suffers from the same genetic disease as her father."
"The only thing that can save that child is a heart transplant. Zong Zhuoxian waited for thirteen months and finally found a matching donor."
"Records show that the heart that was supposed to be given to her daughter was re-evaluated at the last minute and transplanted to someone else."
"Her daughter was only six years old that year."
Mo Zhenbang slowly closed the file: "After that, she began her business of trafficking children's organs."
"That night eighteen years ago, it may not have been a case of a mentally ill person losing control at all."
"It was Zong Zhuoxian who personally led that madman to Cheng Xinglang's house and was present the whole time."
Mo Zhenbang ordered: "Check the database of missing children over the past eighteen years, as well as the medical records of children handled by Zong Zhuoxian."
“Focus on screening all medical transfer records related to Zong Zhuoxian.” Zhu Qing stood up and continued staring at the documents. “But what about the scars? I’ve seen her, and Zong Zhuoxian doesn’t have any scars on her hands.”
...
Outside the CID office, Cheng Xinglang leaned against the wall, waiting.
Cheng Xinglang is a person with a direct interest in this case and should recuse himself according to regulations.
However, Mo Zhenbang made an exception and allowed him to participate in the operation, on the condition that he remain calm.
"Dr. Cheng, you know the rules."
“Notify the Organized Crime and Triad Bureau,” Inspector Mok turned to the officers. “Tell them we went to Ming Tak.”
Several police cars drove out of Yau Ma Tei Police Station.
The Mingde Mental Health Center is heavily guarded, and news of the police's sudden visit quickly reached Zong Zhuoxian's ears.
When they rushed into her office, it was empty.
A photo of a mother and daughter is placed in the center of the desk.
A little girl with pigtails hugged a teddy bear and nestled in the arms of the young Zong Zhuoxian.
“Except for the bow tie on his chest, and the doll that my brother is holding…” Cheng Xinglang said in a deep voice, “it’s almost exactly the same.”
The officers immediately looked more closely.
Zong Zhuoxian's daughter, Huo Xiaoyu, also has a similar doll.
A nurse came in carrying medical records and placed the documents on the vice president's desk.
"Officers!" The head nurse stepped forward quickly. "Hospital regulations state that no one may enter medical staff offices without proper authorization. If you have urgent business, please register in the meeting room first."
At that moment, the nurse who had put down the medical records noticed the photo frame on the desk: "Strange, why is there a photo all of a sudden?"
Vice President Zong has always been gentle and patient with patients and medical staff, but he never mentions his personal affairs.
The nurse, who went in and out of the office every day to organize documents, had never seen this group photo.
Just as they were wondering, the police suddenly shouted, "Where is Zong Zhuoxianren?"
The nurse trembled in fright and subconsciously replied, "Vice Dean Zong... I think I just saw her go to the rooftop."
Before the words were even finished, the police rushed towards the rooftop.
Zhu Qing rushed up the stairs, taking three steps at a time, until her cell phone suddenly rang. She answered it while running, and the signal gradually weakened as she climbed higher.
She could only stop at the corner: "What? I can't hear you..."
The iron gate to the rooftop was violently kicked open.
Zong Zhuoxian sat on the edge of the rooftop without even turning his head.
"I've stopped for eighteen years, why won't you let me go?"
Cheng Xinglang's breathing became heavy as he stared at the figure's back.
Where is my brother?
Zong Zhuoxian finally turned around, a mocking sneer on his lips.
"You insist on investigating? Fine, I'll tell you, your brother's 'parts' haven't been touched."
"But he died before the children in the container."
“You’ve been searching for eighteen years…” Zong Zhuoxian paused, “but it’s just a dead man.”
Cheng Xinglang's breath hitched.
Wei Feng revealed part of the truth about what happened eighteen years ago, while Zong Zhuoxian filled in the gaps by deliberately omitting parts.
Back then, she was in charge of everything, and Ke Xiaobo was just her deputy.
“Let’s start with Ke Xiaobo.” Zong Zhuoxian raised his chin and pointed to the spot next to him. “We were standing right here back then. He couldn’t even handle small matters properly. If the orphan’s adoptive parents continue to investigate, no one will have an easy time.”
"Right here, I take a step forward, he takes a step back, and he falls down, it's that simple."
“As for your parents—” Zong Zhuoxian’s voice was broken by the strong wind on the rooftop, each word uttered slowly, “They ruined my plans. Good people? Good people never live long.”
Zong Zhuoxian thought of her husband and daughter.
They were good people, kind people, but fate did not favor them.
Mo Zhenbang asked, "Did you instigate that madman's serial murders?"
“Cao Xiangbao? He was trained by me. Medication, stopping medication, then starting medication again…”
"He'll do anything if you give him a little reward or a glimmer of hope for freedom."
Feng Ningyun said that back then, Mingde, that madman, was always taken to eat candy.
However, it wasn't actually candy; it was medicine.
“I let him go that day. If Mingde could have escaped so easily, things would have been in chaos long ago.”
“The training has triggering conditions; wearing glasses, being tall and thin, or even an ordinary briefcase can all become prerequisites for his madness. Cao Xiangbao was originally an extremely violent patient…”
"Those you killed earlier were just a prelude; your parents are the final target."
As Cheng Xinglang said, the murderer's "indiscriminate killing" and "precision killing" are inherently contradictory.
The murder pattern that he had been unable to uncover for eighteen years turned out to be Zong Zhuoxian's conditioned reflex training of Cao Xiangbao.
After Cao Xiangbao escaped, everyone he killed in the early stages was an "accident" until finally, under the guidance of Zong Zhuoxian, he found the Cheng family.
The plan was a complete success.
Zong Zhuoxian was never worried that he would lose control, because she always followed behind him.
If he goes astray, she will help him find the right direction.
"That night, I followed behind him and watched him rush into your house like a madman."
"After a series of provocations, he finally entered the Cheng family's gate, where his bloodlust reached its peak, and he made you his first target."
"You collapsed, unaware of anything."
"Your parents clung tightly to his trouser leg, being dragged along the way, pleading... no, they were crying and begging."
Cheng Xinglang stared intently at Zong Zhuoxian.
Her white coat fluttered in the wind as she recounted everything from that year, relishing the experience of watching him suffer a mental breakdown.
As she relived those bloody scenes again and again, the vague fragments of memory deep in Cheng Xinglang's mind began to gradually become clear.
In my memory, he fell to the ground, and warm blood kept gushing out from somewhere.
In a daze, he saw two figures in the corridor, accompanied by very light footsteps.
A sharp, stabbing pain shot through Cheng Xinglang's temple.
“Your brother was so quiet, it was like he didn’t exist. He was hiding in the closet the whole time, and we didn’t find him until the very end,” Zong Zhuoxian continued in a soft tone. “When I opened the closet door, he was trembling all over.”
“Your brother is just like my daughter; he’s very timid.”
“My daughter would be scared if she were buried underground all by herself.”
"So, I invited your brother to be her playmate and go keep her company."
“Buried alive.” Zong Zhuoxian’s lips curled into a smile. “I buried him shovel by shovel. With each handful of dirt that landed on him, he screamed, very loudly. He screamed, ‘Dad, help! Mom, help! Brother, help!’”
The surrounding police officers' expressions changed drastically; they clenched their fists until their knuckles turned white.
Cheng Xinglang had been searching for the truth for eighteen years, and even if the ending was inevitable, it shouldn't be laid bare in front of him in such a bloody way.
"Take him away!" Mo Zhenbang shouted.
Two police officers immediately stepped forward and attempted to take Cheng Xinglang away.
But he didn't move an inch.
Cheng Xinglang stared directly at Zong Zhuoxian, his gaze gradually darkening, and the bloodshot veins in his eyes slowly spreading.
“My daughter is very good.” Zong Zhuoxian’s voice became very soft. “Why is it so unfair to her? She wants to live, she just wants to live… In that case, I will make all the children pay with their lives. Donors, donors… Let these organs become a complete transaction, since they can’t save those who truly need them anyway!”
Zong Zhuoxian's eyes gradually turned cold: "Finally, when the earth completely covered your brother, he was no longer heard."
At this point, she suddenly opened her arms and leaned back.
The action came extremely suddenly, and several police officers pounced on her instantly, shouting, "Stop her!"
"Where is he?" Cheng Xinglang was faster than anyone else, grabbing her wrist. "Explain yourself!"
In that instant, he saw the grotesque bulge on her arm as she struggled.
Those aren't scars; the purple and red, worm-like twists are varicose veins.
Severe varicose veins, even after surgery, have now recurred.
Cheng Xinglang's pupils suddenly contracted.
All the long-forgotten memories exploded at this moment, surging out like a tidal wave.
It's this hand.
That night, the parents' pleas gradually weakened and eventually disappeared completely, plunging the entire house into a deathly silence.
The murderer, Cao Xiangbao, was still pacing anxiously in the living room.
Zong Zhuoxian crouched down and gently parted his brother's collar with his fingertips—
Cheng Xingyu.
These are name tags that the kindergarten requires parents to sew onto each undershirt.
Her gaze shifted downwards, landing on the teddy bear he was clutching tightly in his arms, and her expression wavered for a moment.
Just then, the trembling younger brother noticed that his older brother's eyes were still half-open in the pool of blood, almost about to be discovered.
He immediately used his small body to block Zong Zhuoxian's view and obediently said, "Auntie, I'll be good."
Cheng Xinglang's temples throbbed.
He clearly remembered that Zong Zhuoxian's varicose right hand had been hanging in the air for a long time.
Finally, she gently took her younger brother's hand.
All memories resurfaced.
That hand was incredibly gentle, leading her younger brother away without any malice. Cheng Xingyu followed her without resistance, solely to ensure her brother's survival.
Cheng Xinglang even heard Zong Zhuoxian stroking his younger brother's cheek, murmuring absentmindedly.
"Light rain, light rain..."
Professor Yang's psychological diagnosis report confirms that dissociative memory disorder is real.
Cheng Xinglang did see it.
He witnessed every scene from that night eighteen years ago. But the pain far exceeded his limits, and his brain sealed it all away completely.
At this moment, Zong Zhuoxian, who was suspended high in the air, suddenly burst out with amazing strength and broke free.
Her body arched backward as she fell from a great height.
Zong Zhuoxian closed his eyes as if relieved, recalling his last words to that child—
"Live on for my Xiaoyu."
But she wanted to take this secret with her.
Let it become a wound that Cheng Xinglang can never heal.
Cheng Xinglang lunged to the edge of the rooftop, his fingertips gripping only a corner of a white coat.
The officers cried out in alarm, but it was too late.
Zong Zhuoxian's body fell straight down, and a dull thud came from the ground.
Cheng Xinglang's world suddenly fell silent.
Just like that night eighteen years ago, all sound disappeared.
"Cheng Xinglang!"
Zhu Qing's call seemed to come from a very far place.
Cheng Xinglang slowly turned around and saw her running towards him, holding a mobile phone.
The next second, he suddenly reached out and pulled her into his arms, burying his face in the crook of her shoulder.
Zhu Qing was startled, feeling his body trembling.
In the distance, the sounds of sirens and ambulances grew louder, while shouts rose and fell from the crowd below.
“Cheng Xinglang,” Zhu Qing whispered in his ear, “Records from international medical organizations show that eighteen years ago, Zong Zhuoxian sent away a six-year-old boy.”
Cheng Xinglang's arms tightened suddenly. Everything around him was blurry and distant, but her voice echoed in his ears with unparalleled clarity.
Her hand hovered in mid-air before gently landing on his back.
"He's still alive, he's still alive..."
...
As school ended, the children walked out of the kindergarten with their schoolbags on their backs and looked around.
He looked left and right.
There was no Qingzai, and no Dr. Cheng.
Uncle Hu, who was standing next to the school bus, had already anticipated that the little guy would cause trouble again and had been keeping an eye on him in advance.
Shengfang dawdled and refused to get on the school bus, her little hands behind her back and her toes lightly touching the ground.
He quickly came up with a solution and looked towards the distance.
Ah Juan's mother was leading Ah Juan over.
Shengfang immediately ran over, tilting her little face up: "Auntie, can I borrow your cell phone?"
Ah Juan's mother smiled, squatted down, took out a mobile phone from her bag, and handed it to him.
She turned to her child and said, "Look at Fangfang, he's brave and polite."
Just as her son was about to turn away defiantly, she added with a smile, "Just like our A-Juan!"
Baby Ajuan is very easy to coax; her lips immediately curl into a smile.
Meanwhile, the children skillfully pressed the numbers they had already memorized.
He held the mobile phone to his ear and spoke in a childish voice.
"Hey, I'm out of school."
"Should we send reinforcements?"
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