He thought back to the glacial expression that had filled He Yu’s eyes before he left. Then, he looked down at the dried blood on his body once more. For the first time, he clearly felt toward He Yu the stirrings of emotions that exceeded the limits of what he would ordinarily feel for a patient.
He asked again, “Captain Zheng, how is he doing?”
“Your little friend must have taken the wrong medicine today.” Zheng Jingfeng shook his head. “He’s not even related to you, and he followed you into the archives anyway? And you—how could you allow him to join in on your nonsense and do something so dangerous?”
Xie Qingcheng lowered his eyes in silence.
At the time, his mind really had been muddled, his sense of awareness obliterated and his whole being torn asunder by nineteen years of agony. When he and He Yu had gone to the archives, his only thought had been that perhaps he would be able to finally get some kind of answer about the organization that had killed his parents. He had utterly failed to consider the reality that his actions were far too risky.
It was only when Lu Yuzhu pulled out a gun that he’d abruptly come to his senses. But by then, it was already too late.
“You should be glad that Lu Yuzhu didn’t know how to use a gun, or the two of you would have died right there inside that building. And even if you lived, if he died, how could you possibly face his parents?” Zheng Jingfeng raked his fingers through his hair, deeply vexed. “Speaking of which, he’s He Jiwei’s son! You’ve got some fucking nerve, using He Jiwei’s son for your own purposes. His parents called our higher-ups, asking what in the world was going on. Thank god he only got shot in the arm and didn’t manage to break anything. Otherwise, I’d—I’d—” He jabbed his finger at Xie Qingcheng sharply several times. “I’d like to see how you’d deal with the consequences!”
Xie Qingcheng closed his eyes. He Jiwei had called him a number of times, but he hadn’t figured out what he could possibly say to the man, so he hadn’t answered. Later on, He Jiwei sent him a message asking, “Why did He Yu do something like this with you?”
Xie Qingcheng didn’t know either.
Perhaps it was because He Yu really had thought highly of his philosophy once. Perhaps seven years of companionship had led He Yu to think that their relationship amounted to more than the flimsy connection between a doctor and his patient.
But now that those videos had been played…
The original answer no longer mattered.
As he left, He Yu’s gaze had been cold. As cold as the first time they’d met, or perhaps even icier, as if he were looking at a fraud. After careful thought, Xie Qingcheng realized that no matter how much He Yu said he disliked him, he had never shown him that sort of expression before. He had never shown anyone that kind of expression before.
Even during the flare-ups of his illness when he was mad and bloodthirsty, vicious and merciless, he had vented all of it onto himself; all the harm he enacted was self-directed. Xie Qingcheng was the first person he had torn into with that frightful gaze.
“Ah, all right, all right. Your little friend isn’t in any serious danger now, so don’t overthink it.” Zheng Jingfeng had misunderstood Xie Qingcheng’s silence. He folded his hands on the table and softened his voice a bit. “Just like you, he’ll need to undergo all the necessary procedures and investigations. We’ll explain everything to his parents, but as for whether you should follow up and offer them your own apologies, you can figure it out yourself.”
“Mm.” Xie Qingcheng felt agitated; he had already finished his second cigarette.
He reached for a third, but Zheng Jingfeng put a hand over the box.
“Are you trying to destroy your lungs, or what? You smoke and you smoke and you smoke—who smokes like that, huh? I thought you couldn’t stand other people smoking when you were younger. What happened to you?”
“I’m irritated.”
“Even if you’re irritated, you can’t smoke like this.”
Xie Qingcheng said nothing.
“I know that you’re fucking irritated today. My head hurts like hell too. My grandson’s in the hospital with a 39-degree fever and I haven’t even had time to call him back yet.” Zheng Jingfeng rapped his knuckles against the table. “So, deal with it! Wait till I finish talking!”
Xie Qingcheng sighed. “Fine, talk.”
“I was listening to your testimony in the surveillance room just now, and I believe everything you said. But I’m telling you…” Here Zheng Jingfeng’s gaze became a bit evasive, and for some reason, his forceful voice began to soften. “Don’t get your hopes up. My guess is that Lu Yuzhu’s death was planned for a long time, and she was the person the organization set up to take the fall. They even left behind a trail of clues that directly implicates her in tonight’s murders—all the necessary documentation will line up accordingly, fulfilling the conditions to close the case. This whole thing got too big, and you know that the bigger the incident, the more it demands a quick explanation. The policemen on the ground aren’t idiots—they know there are massive gaps in the details, but some of the higher-ups can’t handle too much pressure, and they might not look too deeply into whether everything stands up under close scrutiny. They may even be eager to wrap things up immediately.”
Barred from smoking, Xie Qingcheng fiddled with the lighter instead, flicking the switch again and again. “And they have protection amongst the higher-ups, don’t they?” he said, lifting his blade-like gaze to pierce the man across from him.
“We don’t know who it is or how broad their reach is, but seeing as they dared to do something like this, there’s no doubt that they have someone backing them,” Zheng Jingfeng replied. Then, before Xie Qingcheng could say a word, he added, “Don’t ask me, fuck if I know.”
“True, I shouldn’t ask you.” Xie Qingcheng leaned back in his chair. This was the police department—what could Zheng Jingfeng possibly say? And if he knew who the “protection” was, would he really just be sitting here like this?