The household registration department was highly efficient; it didn’t take long for them to send over the information on Zheng Xuewang’s registry.
In the message sent over, the residential addresses, workplaces, and contact numbers of Zheng Xuewang’s parents, Zheng Jiaguo and Wang Guiyu, as well as Zheng Xuewang’s own residential address, workplace, and contact number were all included.
Notably, Zheng Xuewang also had a twin brother who passed away young, Zheng Xuejun.
Both Zheng Xuewang and Zheng Xuejun were born in 1979; this year Zheng Xuewang was 37, while Zheng Xuejun died twenty years ago, on June 1, 1996.
“June 1st,” Tan Mingjiu mused. “Looking at it this way, Zheng Xuewang taking a leave of absence every year on June 1st is to pay respects to his brother, right? That actually makes a lot of sense…”
“What was the cause of death?” Ji Xun asked.
“The death notice states ‘died after ineffective medical treatment,'” Tan Mingjiu replied. The records in the registration department were just a final outcome and wouldn’t detail the exact circumstances. “He probably contracted some sort of illness. This is a good opportunity to go over and ask Zheng Xuewang’s parents.”
“We definitely should ask,” Ji Xun hummed in agreement.
They made a trip to Zheng Xuewang’s parents’ home.
Zheng Xuewang’s parents’ home was not too far from the First Hospital. They lived in an old residential complex in the city center. Generally speaking, these kinds of older neighborhoods were all quite similar—lacking sufficient greenery, loosely managed, without elevators, and looking a bit untidy.
The train of time constantly moves forward, and in its lightning-fast progression, all sorts of people and events are easily left behind in its wake.
They were somewhat out of luck; during this mid-afternoon surprise visit, nobody was home.
After Tan Mingjiu made a phone call to ask around, he found out that Zheng Xuewang’s father, Zheng Jiaguo, had just left yesterday on a tour with a senior citizen group. The trip wasn’t short, either; he wouldn’t be back for half a month.
Tan Mingjiu grew suspicious: “…Isn’t that a bit too coincidental? Could Zheng Xuewang actually be in trouble? Did he arrange for his dad to skip town early to hide?”
Ji Xun couldn’t be bothered to respond to such baseless speculation, gesturing for Tan Mingjiu to continue asking where Wang Guiyu was.
Tan Mingjiu replied, “Zheng Jiaguo says Wang Guiyu is right at home, but look.”
He pointed his chin at the iron door in front of them and waved his phone, indicating that no one was inside and the phone wasn’t connecting either.
Ji Xun pondered for a moment: “…Alright, what do you want to eat for dinner tonight?”
“Can we finally eat?!” Tan Mingjiu instantly started drooling. “No need to think, I’ve got it all ready—Sichuan food! Spicy chicken, spicy blood curd stew, water-boiled meat slices, dry-pot intestines, pickled pepper kidneys… if it doesn’t have double the chili peppers, it won’t hit the spot!”
Ji Xun: “Think about it a little more. You still have plenty of room for contemplation.”
Tan Mingjiu: “What’s there to think about? Right now I need a little spicy numbness to stimulate my spirit and taste buds, to get the maximum stimulation so I can double my efforts and work hard! So we might as well find the nearest Sichuan restaurant—”
“It’s only five o’clock.”
“That’s fine, I can eat an early dinner!”
Ji Xun didn’t argue with Tan Mingjiu. He simply called a car and brought the two of them to a new residential complex.
“Yu. Hua. Com. Mu. Ni. Ty.”
The gap between dreams and reality was far too wide. Tan Mingjiu enunciated the name of the complex word by word.
“Correct.”
“Yu Hua Community is Zheng Xuewang’s home.”
“Correct.”
“Zheng Xuewang is currently not at home.”
“Correct. But since we struck out at his parents’ place, we have to find some compensation.”
“If we’re going to go in—we need some paperwork—I’m sure Captain Huo is already working on the procedures—going in without a warrant is a problem—but most importantly, my Sichuan food! Ahhhh—” Tan Mingjiu’s escalating wails ultimately couldn’t stop Ji Xun’s hand.
Once the elevator reached Zheng Xuewang’s floor, it only took Ji Xun two seconds to pick the lock on this heavy, secure-looking front door. But just as he was about to push it open, he abruptly froze.
Pressing his hand against the iron door, he turned back and mouthed to Tan Mingjiu:
Someone is inside.
This was Zheng Xuewang’s home. Zheng Xuewang was currently in police custody. Who could possibly be inside his house?!
Tan Mingjiu, who had been goofing off all afternoon, was no slower to react than Ji Xun. His hands moved swiftly—one hand went to his police badge, the other went to his gun.
Ji Xun waved a hand, signaling Tan Mingjiu to stay calm.
He pressed his ear to the door and listened for a moment, catching the faint, rustling sounds inside.
These continuous noises proved that whoever was inside hadn’t noticed that they had unlocked the door. This was undoubtedly good news, putting them in an advantageous position where they could either advance or retreat.
He gently pushed the door open just a crack.
Peering through the gap, they were in luck. They spotted a gray silhouette in the living room with its back to them. Past the outline of the gray figure, they could also see the small white freezer—the very place Zheng Xuewang claimed in his confession to have hidden the cash given by Chen Jiashu.
The hunched, creeping gray figure was leaning over the pile of cash. They picked up a stack, put it back, picked up two stacks, put them back again, and then leaned down to hug the entire pile of money to their chest… acting with both greed and hesitation.
As the two observed the gray silhouette, and the gray silhouette obsessively observed the money, Tan Mingjiu gradually relaxed.
“Wang Guiyu?” he asked Ji Xun using only his breath.
Ji Xun gave a slight nod.
A mother tearing her son’s house apart while he wasn’t home, and finding his hidden stash of money—no matter how you looked at it, it was highly abnormal.
Ji Xun rubbed the phone in his pocket, recalling the information he had discretely gathered from a nurse earlier when he went back to deliver milk tea, purposely avoiding Tan Mingjiu.
He had asked the nurse if anyone who had recently come looking for Zheng Xuewang had left an impression on them.
The nurse firmly said yes.
“Who?” Ji Xun had asked at the time. “Any physical characteristics?”
When he asked this, the image of Meng Fushan unexpectedly flashed through his mind.
“We actually know that person,” the nurse’s reply had nothing to do with Meng Fushan—at least on the surface. “It was a medical escort who works around here.”
“A medical escort?”
“Yes, a medical escort. It’s a profession dedicated to accompanying out-of-towners and the elderly to see doctors at the hospital,” the nurse explained. “After Dr. Zheng left, a few people did come asking for him, but they were basically his former patients. Once they heard he resigned, they let it go. But this medical escort, even after we told him Dr. Zheng had left, kept asking a lot of questions about him. Anyway, it was somewhat strange. It felt like he wasn’t really there for medical reasons.”
If he wasn’t there for medical reasons, he was obviously there with another motive.
While they couldn’t be sure who exactly hired the medical escort to probe into Zheng Xuewang, they could be certain… someone was investigating Zheng Xuewang.
Would this person be satisfied with only asking around Zheng Xuewang’s former workplace?
If this person was investigating Zheng Xuewang, beyond his workplace, they would naturally contact his friends, his family, and, most importantly… find a time to search Zheng Xuewang’s home.
A long-term residence inadvertently exposes many of its owner’s secrets.
But right now, regardless of how many secrets Zheng Xuewang had left in the apartment that had been disturbed, at least 80% of the traces left by “that person” had likely just been overwritten and contaminated.
“Old Ji, Old Ji,” Tan Mingjiu called him in a low voice. “What are you thinking about? This is a great opportunity! We rush in right now, call out Wang Guiyu, and not only do we avoid the liability of lacking a warrant, but we can also ask her everything we need to know while she’s still caught off guard. Two birds with one stone!”
Ji Xun snapped back to reality.
True. Wang Guiyu would be feeling guilty about stealing the money and very easy to bluff.
“Why is the door open?” Ji Xun instantly slipped into character. “Police! Hey, what are you doing? What’s your relationship with the homeowner? Is this an illegal break-in and theft?”
Tan Mingjiu closely followed, swaggering into the room. What he saw was a figure desperately trying to cram handfuls of cash back into the freezer.
But with only a few seconds’ notice, it was impossible to shove all 680,000 yuan back inside.
This panicked attempt to cover up merely looked like a clown performing a futile act.
“Don’t move! Trying to pull a fast one right under the noses of the police?! Shoving it back is useless. Speak—why are you stealing?”
“Officer, I’m not a thief, I’m not a thief!” The gray figure they had seen through the crack finally turned around. She was somewhat plump with fair skin. Looking past the wrinkles of age on her face and neck, one could still see the handsome contours of her youth. She bore many resemblances to Zheng Xuewang—or rather, Zheng Xuewang had inherited many of her genes.
She shouted out what anyone with eyes could have already guessed:
“I am Zheng Xuewang’s mother! This is my son’s house! I came to help him tidy up his things!”
Tan Mingjiu put on a fierce face, completely shedding his usual goofy demeanor. Being a criminal investigator dealing with all sorts of vicious criminals, it was necessary to have a few different faces ready.
“You say you came to tidy up his things, and you managed to tidy a pile of cash out from a floor full of clutter?”
“I was just… reorganizing…” Wang Guiyu defended herself awkwardly. The banknotes she had just been so reluctant to part with now felt like hot potatoes, and she tossed them far away. Then she challenged, “What business is it of the police if I organize my son’s things?”
It seemed this old lady wasn’t going to be a pushover either.
“Under normal circumstances, it’s none of our business,” Tan Mingjiu said calmly. “But if this money is illicit, it’s very much our business. Did you know this money is dirty?”
Judging from Wang Guiyu’s shocked and anxious expression, she hadn’t known for sure, but she had somewhat guessed.
This is getting interesting, Ji Xun thought. She clearly came specifically for the money. How did she know Zheng Xuewang had this cash? Did Zheng Xuewang recently flash his wealth to his parents? Did they catch on through a conversation? Or did someone else—perhaps someone acting like that medical escort—indirectly tip them off that their son had recently come into money?
The fact that the house had been thoroughly ransacked suggested she knew her son wasn’t going to be home for a while, allowing her to search recklessly. Finding such a hidden stash—perhaps it was a mother’s understanding of her son’s habits?
Did Zheng Xuewang like hiding things in the freezer?
While Tan Mingjiu questioned Wang Guiyu, Ji Xun surveyed the apartment.
Overall, the apartment wasn’t large—roughly 60 square meters visually. But because it only had one bedroom, the individual spaces felt quite roomy. Ji Xun first noticed a massive desk, two to three meters long, sitting in the dining area. Across from the desk, against the wall, was an entire row of custom bookshelves.
The cabinet doors of the bookshelves were half transparent glass, half solid wood.
Looking through the transparent glass, the vast majority of the items were books. As for the solid cabinets, they had all been thrown open. Aside from the normal storage of winter clothes and bedding, they were filled—cabinet after cabinet—with assorted LEGO sets.
Tan Mingjiu and Wang Guiyu’s conversation continued.
Having been intimidated by Tan Mingjiu’s initial outburst, Wang Guiyu’s inner nervousness likely took over. She yielded and began honestly answering his questions, though she couldn’t help but mutter a couple of times:
“What dirty money? It can’t be dirty money. Xuewang has had excellent grades since he was a kid and is a law-abiding citizen. He… he wouldn’t commit a crime.”
“Does Zheng Xuewang really like LEGOs?” Tan Mingjiu asked in a professional tone.
“LEGOs?”
“Zheng Xuewang’s house and office both have a lot of LEGOs. If he doesn’t like them, why would he buy so many?”
“…Those aren’t his favorites.” Wang Guiyu stared blankly for a moment, then sighed. “Those were what his younger brother, Xuejun, liked.”
Wang Guiyu’s gaze drifted toward the large desk in front of her.
Ji Xun had noticed it when he walked in. On the large desk, aside from the open freezer, cash, and medication, there was a picture frame with its back removed. A small white piece of bone lay next to the frame. Judging by the imprint on the back of the photo that perfectly matched the bone’s shape, this bone fragment had been stuffed inside the picture frame all along.
Wang Guiyu’s eyes grazed the bone fragment, and she immediately pulled her gaze back as if she had been burned.
She stuttered, “That… that should be my second son, Xuejun’s ashes. I never thought he would hide them here… I never noticed…”
Ji Xun picked up the picture frame. It was like a refrigerator magnet, backed with a magnet, meant to be stuck to the freezer. From the front, it looked like a scenic postcard, but if you removed that layer, it revealed a photograph beneath. Two teenagers were slinging their arms over each other’s shoulders. They truly looked identical; at a glance, it was almost impossible to tell who was who. The one on the left in the white shirt, looking a bit more refined, was probably Zheng Xuewang. The one on the right in the T-shirt, looking a bit wilder, was Zheng Xuejun.
Zheng Xuewang stuck this photo to the freezer he used every day—his favorite place to hide things—yet he deliberately covered the photo up?
Why?
“I looked at the records. Zheng Xuejun died in 1996. Did he suffer from a severe illness?” Ji Xun took the opportunity to ask.
Wang Guiyu said, “It wasn’t an illness. The second son was different from the first. As good as the older boy’s grades were, that’s how much the younger one refused to study. He ran wild from a young age. Later, he fell from an abandoned factory and landed on his head. He lay in the hospital as a vegetable for several months, and it cost a massive amount of money. If it weren’t for… someone helping us, we wouldn’t have even been able to afford the treatment. In the end, he never opened his eyes or called out to us again, and just passed away.”
Someone helping us.
When she said those words, Wang Guiyu paused for a moment. Was it intentional or accidental?
Ji Xun noted this internally. He didn’t want to alert her, so he shifted the topic: “Was Zheng Xuejun’s death an accident?”
Wang Guiyu lowered her head for a moment. “Who knows?”
“What does that mean?”
“A group of people were fighting and brawling over there. He was standing on the edge, and we don’t know who pushed him off. If you call it intentional, you police asked around but never found the person who deliberately did it. If you call it an accident, we just couldn’t accept it. Why did our child have to be the unlucky one?”
According to Wang Guiyu, Zheng Xuejun’s fall twenty years ago was triggered by a group brawl. As for who was responsible for his death, the police at the time never reached a conclusion, likely closing it as an accident.
Twenty years was a long time; it was uncertain if the case files were even still kept. But regardless, they would have to look into Zheng Xuejun’s case when they got back…
“Did Zheng Xuewang ever discuss his brother’s death at home?” Ji Xun continued to probe. “Did he ever show any hatred towards the people involved in the brawl at the time?”
When he heard that Zheng Xuejun died due to a group brawl, he immediately thought of Chen Jiashu.
But Zheng Xuewang was 37 this year, and Chen Jiashu was 48. Twenty years ago, Zheng Xuejun was only 17, while Chen Jiashu was already 28. It didn’t seem to connect.
“Truly, no,” Wang Guiyu shook her head. “Not at all. Even if we talked about Xuejun, Xuewang never chimed in. We had no idea he was hiding his brother so deeply in his heart.”
They had asked what they needed to ask.
Seeing that Ji Xun had nothing more to add, Tan Mingjiu nodded and warned Wang Guiyu, “Do not leave Ning City in the near future. The police may need to contact you to understand more of the situation.”
“I understand…” Wang Guiyu hesitated before asking, “Officer, what crime did my son actually commit? Please believe me, he really is a very good kid. He wouldn’t do anything illegal.”
“Even if it meant avenging his brother?” Ji Xun asked in a joking tone.
Wang Guiyu froze for a second, then replied almost without hesitation: “Yes, he wouldn’t! What happened to his brother can’t be blamed on anyone. It was just bad luck…”
The entire afternoon’s investigation could be considered somewhat fruitful. As they bid farewell to Wang Guiyu, they took the freezer full of cash with them—it was a critical piece of evidence.
Wang Guiyu stood sideways to them, looking as if she wanted to stare at the money but was trying to force herself not to—the exact same reluctant look they had seen through the crack in the door. Finally, as they stepped out, she couldn’t help but ask:
“Um, Officer, that money… it will be returned, right?”
“That will depend on the outcome of the case,” Tan Mingjiu said. “Don’t worry, the police enforce the law impartially. We will not embezzle the legitimate property of the people. Keep the confiscation receipt we just gave you safe. If you’re notified to retrieve the items later, remember to bring the receipt…”
“I know, I know,” Wang Guiyu explained. “Over 600,000 is not a small amount. You only see that kind of money maybe twice in a lifetime.”
Who isn’t that way?
Tan Mingjiu didn’t show it on his face, but he deeply felt it in his heart. Wang Guiyu had seen it twice; he had only seen it this one time. Holding onto the 600,000+ yuan, his arms felt hot and trembled slightly, terrified that a mugger might jump out midway, target him, and bam, rob him blind…
However, these worries vanished the moment the two of them stepped into the Sichuan restaurant Ji Xun had promised.
A hearty, spicy Sichuan meal left Tan Mingjiu sweating profusely and exclaiming in satisfaction. Compared to him, Ji Xun, who wasn’t overly fond of spicy food, was much more restrained. He barely touched the dishes but drank a massive pitcher of water.
When the two returned to the police station, Huo Ranyin had already been briefed on the entire afternoon’s events and had conducted supplementary investigations.
“There aren’t many records of the incident twenty years ago,” Huo Ranyin said, casually handing a bread roll to Ji Xun. “The police investigation at the time classified it as a society-related group brawl.”
Ji Xun, who was only half-full from drinking water instead of eating the spicy food, desperately needed it. He tore open the packaging and spoke while chewing on the bread: “Society-related? So gang members or street thugs were involved?”
“It would be more accurate to say that the vast majority of the participants were street youths. Only Zheng Xuejun, who was 17 at the time, was still a student.”
“What was the demographic makeup of these street youths?”
“Basically, unemployed vagrants. A few already had records for petty theft and brawling at the time.”
“Can we track these people down now?” Ji Xun asked.
Zheng Xuewang had the means to murder Chen Jiashu, but a murder requires a motive. Based on the current investigation into Zheng Xuewang’s social circle, only his brother who died young seemed worth digging into as a potential motive.
“It’s been too long. We can look, but we might not find them,” Huo Ranyin shook his head. “In ’96, identity information wasn’t networked yet. These brawling street thugs were hardly law-abiding citizens to begin with. Many of them have likely changed their names and fled to other cities.”
“Have you caught any trace of Chen Jiahe and Cao Zhengbin?” Ji Xun asked about Huo Ranyin’s side of the investigation.
“We’ve caught a shadow of Chen Jiahe,” Huo Ranyin said simply. “But confirming his exact location will take some time.”
“So right now, the only tangible thing we have in our hands is…”
Ji Xun’s gaze shifted to the desk of the Second Detachment.
The small freezer that Tan Mingjiu had lugged all the way back was sitting right there.
“Have you examined it?” Huo Ranyin asked, following Ji Xun’s gaze.
“We examined it… no, wait, we didn’t.”
Huo Ranyin looked back at Ji Xun.
“We didn’t,” Ji Xun explained. “When we walked in, we caught Zheng Xuewang’s mother moving the cash. After she put the money back, we just brought the whole freezer back with us.”
Huo Ranyin nodded, pulled on a pair of gloves, and opened the freezer.
“The cash amount is correct. Send the rest over to the Forensics Department; maybe they can find fingerprints or hair on it,” Ji Xun said casually.
“It seems you think we can find a clue on the freezer,” Huo Ranyin noted.
“I’m just hoping we can find a clue,” Ji Xun replied quickly.
In the time it took to exchange those few words, the freezer had been emptied. The medication and the cash were taken out and separated.
Huo Ranyin first inspected the types of medication, then double-checked to ensure the cash amount matched what Zheng Xuewang had stated. After confirming everything, the meticulous Police Inspector prepared to put the items back into the freezer.
But as he was putting things back, Huo Ranyin froze.
“What is it?” Ji Xun asked.
Huo Ranyin stared at the empty interior of the freezer, furrowed his brow for a moment, compared the external height with the internal depth, and finally knocked on the bottom with his knuckles.
They heard:
“Thump”—
“Thump”—
The sound was hollow and loud. It was blatantly obvious that beneath the floor panel of this freezer, there was a hidden internal compartment.
“I’ll take your word as a blessing,” Huo Ranyin said. “There really is something hidden inside this freezer.”
“…” Amidst his shock, Ji Xun couldn’t help but sigh, “He really does love hiding things in the freezer…”
The thin panel lining the bottom of the freezer was pried up, revealing a flat, elongated wooden box resting at the true base of the unit.
Huo Ranyin was very careful when he picked up the flat wooden box.
He turned it over and inspected it thoroughly first.
The flat wooden box wasn’t large—about the size of a standard 32-mo paperback book—and just over 2cm thick. It had a sliding lid, and a paper seal was glued across it, meaning anyone opening the box would tear it.
Huo Ranyin stared thoughtfully at the seal for a moment. “It’s very new. It was replaced recently.”
Ji Xun silently chewed on his bread, saying nothing.
He couldn’t help but wonder: Did Meng Fushan visit this apartment and find this box?
Intuitively, he smelled the lingering presence of that man. Or rather, Meng Fushan’s shadow loomed over the unsolved mysteries surrounding Zheng Xuewang.
If so, did Zheng Xuewang realize Meng Fushan had been there? Probably not—at least, he wasn’t certain. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have kept such a massive sum of money hidden in the exact same spot in the freezer.
So who was the newly attached seal meant to guard against? Someone like his mother today? Or was it just an overly suspicious precaution, just in case?
Huo Ranyin didn’t force Ji Xun to share his thoughts. After finishing his external examination of the box, he finally slid it open, revealing Zheng Xuewang’s deepest secret—roughly twenty letters sent by a woman named Li Xiaochu.
“Just letters?” Ji Xun looked surprised at the stack of correspondence, some new, some old. “Is this a woman Zheng Xuewang liked?”
“…I’m afraid not,” Huo Ranyin replied after hastily skimming the contents, his expression slightly strange.
“What do they say?” Ji Xun asked. When Huo Ranyin was flipping through them, he had noticed simple sketches drawn on the pages. This reminded him of the custom bookshelf in Zheng Xuewang’s house—aside from the 80% that were medical texts, the other 20% consisted of picture books. He had found it slightly odd at the time but hadn’t thought deeply about it because Wang Guiyu had been present.
Now, it seemed to connect.
He pulled out his phone and searched the name “Li Xiaochu”. The search results popped up instantly. Baidu Baike showed that she was a children’s book illustrator who used the pen name “Li Xiaochu”. She was 37 years old this year.
37 years old. The same age as Zheng Xuewang?
“She is also a Ning City local, and she was Zheng Xuejun’s girlfriend,” Huo Ranyin confirmed Ji Xun’s suspicions. “There is one letter per year, starting from the year after Zheng Xuejun died—when Zheng Xuewang started university—continuing all the way to this year. They all talk about Zheng Xuejun.”
“An older brother spending all these years reminiscing about his dead brother alongside his brother’s former girlfriend…” Ji Xun muttered to himself. “How should I put this? It’s quite touching.”
“Aside from that, Zheng Xuewang also pursued Li Xiaochu at one point.”
“Now that’s a bit melodramatic…” Tan Mingjiu, who had been silently listening, froze and finally couldn’t hold back. Based on this new clue, his mind had already conjured up a massive soap opera of a love triangle and brotherly betrayal. “Did Zheng Xuewang express any desire to be with Li Xiaochu in the letters?”
“None at all,” Huo Ranyin ruthlessly shattered Tan Mingjiu’s fantasies. “All conversations between this man and woman revolve solely around Zheng Xuejun. Furthermore, judging from the letters, Li Xiaochu is already married with children.”
“He probably just wanted to reminisce about his brother with someone other than his parents—someone he knew, and who also knew his brother. Aside from families that are incredibly intimate and share everything, parents and children can also be quite distant, safely saying not even half a sentence to each other,” Ji Xun deduced. Recalling his earlier conversation with Huo Ranyin, he suddenly frowned. “Wait, did you say this year’s letter has already arrived?”
“Yes.”
“But it’s not even April yet. Isn’t Zheng Xuewang’s leave requested for June? If they send one letter a year, shouldn’t they communicate on a date with more significance?”
“They don’t communicate on June 1st. They communicate on April 1st,” Huo Ranyin corrected Ji Xun’s assumption.
April 1st. April Fool’s Day.
What did that signify? Did this date have some special meaning?
Just as Ji Xun was pondering this, Tan Mingjiu suddenly spoke up: “Today is March 27th. Chen Jiashu died in the early hours of the 26th. It’s only a few days away from April 1st. Captain Huo, those pill bottles we looked at earlier—if he took all of them, would they last him until April 1st?”
“Yes, it would be just enough to last until then,” Huo Ranyin said concisely.
At this moment, the tangled, disparate threads of clues were practically waving at them, drawing ever closer together. They were only missing the final thread to tie them all up.
Tan Mingjiu’s spirit was instantly reinvigorated. “Old Ji! This whole afternoon, we never asked Wang Guiyu exactly what day her son fell off that factory!”
Without waiting for Ji Xun to reply, he impatiently dialed Wang Guiyu’s number and asked the question.
Over the phone, Wang Guiyu’s voice drifted through faintly:
“You’re asking what day my son fell? …Of course I remember. That day was horrible… It was April 1st, that foreign holiday… April Fool’s Day, right?”
Author’s Note: Chen Jiashu’s previous age setting was too young; please consider his age in this chapter as the official canon.
