Chapter 106: Replication Experiment 30
The results of today’s re-examination for both of them showed that Yi Ke was completely normal. After undergoing an explosive evolution, his various indicators had stabilized. He only needed to report back to the Management Center periodically to record data and didn’t require any additional treatment. As for Zhuang Ningyu, aside from continuing his medication, the doctor specifically repeated twice: relax your emotions, relax your emotions. Then he instructed Yi Ke: family members must not rush him to speak and should try to avoid stacking stimuli, such as forcing the patient to repeatedly recall details of the trauma.
Yi Ke listened carefully to the instructions for caring for his wife. First, he went to the pharmacy to pick up a large bag of medicine. Then, he planned to go to the mall to buy a comfortable pillow because it was said to increase a sense of security. However, this was rejected by Zhuang Ningyu, who gestured vividly to indicate that his sense of security had absolutely nothing to do with a pillow. The reason he couldn’t leave Yi Ke was entirely due to the side effects of the sedative on his nervous system; taking medicine for two days would fix it, and it even seemed to have alleviated significantly already.
“Really alleviated?” Yi Ke asked after returning home.
Zhuang Ningyu patted his shoulder. Really.
“Then I’ll go down to pick up a package?” Yi Ke probed.
Zhuang Ningyu thought for a moment, then nodded. Okay.
“Sure?”
Zhuang Ningyu waved his hand dashingly. Go ahead.
Yi Ke kissed him on the forehead, turned, and left the walk-in closet. Zhuang Ningyu continued changing into his loungewear, listening as the footsteps faded down the stairs, the sound of the shoe cabinet opening and closing, and finally the electronic beep of the security door locking again.
Following the electronic beep was a sudden, extreme silence.
This spacious apartment seemed to sink into a thick vacuum. All normal sounds were extracted and replaced by the rustling of the wind blowing the bedroom curtains, the ticking of the second hand on the wall clock in the living room, the hollow echo of the bathroom drainpipe, the humming of the refrigerator compressor, and the click-clack jumping sound of a seemingly loose part in the fresh air system. His own heartbeat, breathing, swallowing, and the sound of the bullet firing that day—all these sounds that shouldn’t have been heard by ears churned together, becoming louder and more chaotic. Suddenly, like a hurricane, a loud boom erupted, first tearing through his eardrums then drilling into his brain marrow. Zhuang Ningyu’s breathing instantly became rapid, and stinging pain spread uncontrollably through his brain again. Without time to think, he rushed down the stairs taking two steps at a time. Looking up, he saw Yi Ke hadn’t left but was leaning against the door watching him.
Zhuang Ningyu braked suddenly, covered in cold sweat as he locked eyes with him. The next moment, he fell into a forceful embrace. Yi Ke could feel his lover’s icy body temperature and uncontrollable trembling, so he tightened his arms and comforted him by his ear: “It’s okay, I’m here.”
His slender white fingers tightly gripped the fabric in his hands. Zhuang Ningyu buried his face deeply in Yi Ke’s chest and took a few breaths before his stiff body gradually relaxed. As the sharp neural pain slowly faded, he confirmed one thing again: his hearing seemed to have truly evolved.
However, this evolution wasn’t stable. From current observations, it only occurred under extreme emotional tension—like just now, or outside the ICU ward that day. And it was often accompanied by an indescribable soreness, as if a rusty, lemon-juice-soaked blunt knife was savagely cutting his nerve endings.
Yi Ke reported his condition to the Management Center and scheduled a new check-up for tomorrow. Zhuang Ningyu leaned on the other end of the sofa, listening absently to the sound of Yi Ke typing. Amidst the lingering grogginess, he reflected on his behavior of not following medical advice today—Director Wang said he wasn’t well during the check-up, and indeed, he wasn’t.
Facts proved that experts were indeed experts, tolerating no doubt from anyone! So when Yi Ke finished filling out the appointment form and came over intending to hold his precious wife in his arms again, he saw him seriously flipping through today’s stack of check-up forms.
Using pillows or blankets can appropriately increase a sense of security.
Zhuang Ningyu grabbed a cushion from the sofa and hugged it to his chest.
Abdominal breathing can effectively relieve anxiety and tension.
Yi Ke watched helplessly as Zhuang’s belly rose and fell beneath his loungewear.
Try playing some soothing music.
Two minutes later, “The Golden Spindle of the Fourteenth Century and the Mysterious Realm of Flawlessness” began playing in the living room.
Yi Ke: “…”
The music poured out slowly—solemn, holy, unhurried. And Zhuang Ningyu lay within this holy hymn that seemed to possess a golden substance, hugging the cushion and concentrating on abdominal breathing for nearly an hour. When Yi Ke came out of the kitchen to call him for dinner, he saw the person covered by a soft blanket, sleeping deeply. The cold sweat on his body had dissipated, and his face, having regained its color, looked very warm. His originally trembling eyelids settled completely upon sensing the kiss landing on his forehead. Sleeping too obediently, Yi Ke didn’t have the heart to wake him, nor did he turn on the main light. He simply leaned gently against the carpet by the sofa, checking work documents on his phone while waiting for him to wake up.
The floor lamp on the side cabinet emitted a dim and soft light. The gear sounds of the wall clock no longer induced anxiety but became comfortable white noise. The second hand ticked da-da, landing in the dream like a lullaby. Zhuang Ningyu slept until past eight in the evening. Feeling an itch on his neck, he opened his eyes to see a hand resting on his shoulder, knuckles rubbing his collarbone absentmindedly.
“Awake?” Yi Ke asked.
Zhuang Ningyu sat up. His throat was raspy, and he didn’t want to speak, so he wrote on Yi Ke’s arm: Work?
Yi Ke was shocked; how did he even know that? “Did you dream it?”
Zhuang Ningyu didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He pointed to Yi Ke’s phone, then to his own ear—heard the notification sound.
“Nothing much, still that business with Jin Yi.” Yi Ke sat up, poured him a cup of warm water, and watched him drink a few mouthfuls. “Eat first.”
Zhuang Ningyu didn’t ask further. Since he couldn’t speak right now, he really couldn’t multitask with his mouth, causing communication efficiency for work to plummet—though efficiency for romantic communication wasn’t affected much because, in just two short days, Yi Ke had evolved to understand seventy percent of his glances. For example, just a glance at the shrimp on the dining table would result in a peeled shrimp. If he didn’t open his mouth then, he would further receive a peeled shrimp dipped in a little wasabi soy sauce.
Zhuang Ningyu actually slept away his appetite, but to recover quickly, he still ate most of the plate of boiled shrimp. After the meal, he pulled out a tissue to wipe his hands, pointed at Yi Ke’s phone, and signaled to continue.
“…Remember my friend mentioned Jin Yi is a head of internet water armies?” Seeing that dinner was late, Yi Ke brewed him a cup of digestion-aiding tea. “He often smears competitors online.”
Zhuang Ningyu nodded and pointed to himself—Is Jin Yi’s water army going to use this incident to make a fuss about me online again?
“No, he was detained the day Wei Liying jumped, so he made no further moves,” Yi Ke said. “This afternoon, the investigation team discovered that the marketing company where he keeps his water army had once spoken up for you.”
Zhuang Ningyu paused slightly, evidently not expecting this. Yi Ke handed him his phone. Zhuang Ningyu flipped through a few pages roughly. The other party’s defense of him mainly concentrated on the Wei Liying incident. Almost every time Wei Liying caused trouble, this batch of water army accounts would dutifully come out to clarify—without snide remarks or malicious misdirection, but speaking up online as simple, justice-minded citizens. Very professional, so professional that one couldn’t tell they were a water army at all.
“Not just these; they also frequently leave comments under news related to the Order Maintenance Department or you.” Yi Ke scrolled down the document. “Here.”
The other party did these things very covertly. The accounts responsible for speaking up for Zhuang Ningyu were completely separate from the accounts hyping the bar, and even the IPs were deliberately distinguished, clearly not wanting to be detected. It took the investigation team quite some effort to find them this time. Zhuang Ningyu frowned slightly, pointing at Jin Yi’s name and drawing a question mark—How does he explain this himself?
“He said he admires you.”
“…”
Of course, the investigation team wouldn’t believe such nonsense. Fortunately, they dug up another bombshell insider information: this batch of water army accounts had spoken up for Fu Han during the Fu family’s internal strife.
Jin Yi was Fu Han’s man, or at least used to be.
“Yes… well… indeed.” Faced with the evidence thrown in front of him, the bar owner finally relented. “I know President Fu. Posting those threads was also because he appreciates Captain Zhuang. That Wei Liying is just a lunatic; her words can’t be trusted at all. Yet rumors were spreading like wildfire online, getting more and more exaggerated. Honestly, even without President Fu, as a justice-minded citizen, I would have stood up to speak!”
“Then why did you still donate to Wei Liying?” the investigator asked.
Jin Yi choked up for a moment, lowering his voice to defend himself: “Didn’t donate, didn’t donate. Didn’t I say already? I was just afraid my kid would throw a tantrum at home, so I casually gave some money to send her away.”
Before he finished speaking, another photo appeared before his eyes. He craned his neck to look. It was blurry, but he could make out his assistant, Fang Han, walking towards Wei Liying’s residence, carrying a large shoulder bag that looked heavy. Jin Yi stared blankly. “What angle is this surveillance from? Has the Skynet surveillance advanced to flying in mid-air now?”
“Cut the crap,” the investigator said. “Have you nothing to say about this photo?”
Jin Yi shook his head blankly. “I did indeed send her to give Wei Liying money. I already confessed!”
The investigator lifted a shoulder bag from under the table—the same model Fang Han carried in the photo. Opening it revealed five stacks of pink banknotes. “You said you only gave Wei Liying fifty thousand yuan. This is the effect of fifty thousand yuan in the bag. Do you think it looks the same as in the photo?”
Jin Yi: “N-no, not the same.”
“Where were the flyers printed!”
Startled by the sudden table slap, Jin Yi shivered. “I really, really, really don’t know! The bag contained flyers?”
In the interrogation room next door, investigators threw another identical bag containing flyers of the same thickness as on the day of the incident in front of Fang Han. Both size and shape were exactly the same as in the photo.
Zhong Pinghe said, “You are very smart. Throughout your communication with Wei Liying, you never mentioned suicide, yet you guided her towards it the entire time. Even the content of the flyers—you let her provide the ideas, and only after she knelt and begged for your ‘help’ did you reluctantly and half-heartedly print them secretly and give them to her, correct?”
“Evidence? Is this your guess, or Wei Liying’s confession?” Fang Han said. “She’s just a lunatic; her testimony has no legal effect.”
“Indeed, Wei Liying’s mental state is problematic; otherwise, she wouldn’t have been manipulated by you into jumping off a building,” Zhong Pinghe said.
Fang Han laughed once. “What do you mean by my manipulation? Mr. Zhong, everyone knows the cause and effect of Wei Liying’s hatred for your grandson. It has nothing to do with me, right?”
Zhong Pinghe ignored her sarcasm and had his assistant show her a photo. “I once wondered why you wore an outfit that might provoke Wei Liying to see her, until I saw this.”
The photo showed a drawing. In the drawing was a fashionable woman wearing a black trench coat and red-soled high heels. The strokes were amateurish. Beside it was written the title of the drawing—“Future Me”. The artist was signed Wei Xiaofang, Wei Liying’s daughter. It was drawn when she was eight years old for an art assignment. The naive little girl was unfamiliar with “growing up,” so she copied the cover of a fashion magazine from the newsstand at the school gate—a Burberry long trench coat, beautiful high heels, the most popular trend of that year.
“You are indeed a professional psychoanalyst. Before meeting Wei Liying, you did your homework thoroughly, even finding this assignment of Wei Xiaofang’s online,” Zhong Pinghe said. “And the reason you visited eight times wasn’t because Wei Liying refused the money, but because she became dependent on you and couldn’t leave you. So you had to go again and again, just to soothe her emotions.”
Fang Han showed little reaction on her face, only feeling some disgust in her heart. She couldn’t forget the scene of calling that crazy woman “Mom” and the rough feeling of those withered hands touching her face. What was more hateful was that she actually didn’t die. But it didn’t matter; she was confident Wei Liying wouldn’t betray her, only protect her desperately.
Mother—truly an easily manipulated thing.
“Wei Liying indeed said nothing; she loves you very much,” Zhong Pinghe said. “But aren’t you curious why I know so many details?” He held up a photo of the TV cabinet in Wei Liying’s living room. The lighting was very dim, making the environment look extremely eerie. Fang Han’s gaze fell on the photo, and goosebumps suddenly rose on her back. Actually, she didn’t see anything, but she realized something.
Sure enough, the next moment, she heard Zhong Pinghe say, “You only wanted to be Wei Liying’s daughter briefly, but Wei Liying wanted to see you for a long time, all the time. So during your second visit, a camera was hidden inside this TV cabinet. You probably never would have thought that a crazy woman who only knew how to make scenes on the street would hide a camera.”
Those who seek to exploit maternal love eventually fall by maternal love.
Fang Han still had no expression, but cold sweat uncontrollably filled her tightly clenched palms, and her face turned pale.
“You should be very clear about the consequences of intentional homicide,” Zhong Pinghe looked at her coldly. “Who is your handler?”
After a silence, two words echoed in the empty interrogation room: “Fu Han.”
Zhuang Ningyu’s gaze fell on the name “Fu Han,” and he looked up in confusion.
Yi Ke spread his hands. Who knows? Creating trouble even from inside a Rule Zone—what kind of outlaw is this? My wife is a righteous civil servant; you must stay far away from him in the future!
Zhuang Ningyu kicked him. Talk business!
Yi Ke sat up straight obediently and asked, “You don’t think it’s him?”
Zhuang Ningyu continued to lock eyes with him.
Yi Ke: “…I don’t think it’s him either.”
Then he added, “But the possibility of him suddenly going crazy cannot be ruled out.”
