Qin Mu and Wu Guangming arranged to meet the following morning.
Wu Guangming’s family lived in a suburb far from the city center. Three years ago, in order to ease the issues of traffic, housing, and population concentration caused by the overloaded city, the government had drawn a big circle on the map and merged several shabby county towns into a new district, bringing them under J City’s jurisdiction. Although the name ‘new district’ sounded grand, the basic investment remained loyally aligned with that of a third-rate rural county. Apart from heating the land market and luring in a pack of ravenous real estate developers, not a single basic supporting facility like schools or hospitals kept pace. Property prices in the new district rose, but compared to J City where every inch of land was worth a lot of money, they were still more humane.
People who couldn’t afford to buy homes in J City clustered here, commuting three hours by subway every day to clock in at work, then dragging their exhausted bodies back through the night in search of their own bed.
To treat his mother’s illness, Wu Guangming sold their apartment in the tube-shaped housing of J City and moved here. His parents had both worked at a machine tool factory and were honourably laid off during the tide of reform. His father didn’t have any other skills, spending his days drinking and playing cards at home. One rainy night, after a game, he fell into a ditch with his bicycle on the way home and died.
His mother raised the still-underage Wu Guangming by washing dishes for others. The image of the short woman hunching her back while sitting on a low stool washing dishes, her hands peeling from the dish soap, and the way she wrapped her waist tight with cloth to continue working when her lumbar pain flared up—these were the carving knives that etched into Wu Guangming’s memory.
From a young age, his essays consistently expressed his wish to be filial to his mother, and this remained unchanged as he grew older. He was extremely hardworking. After graduating from technical school, he worked as an apprentice in a hotel kitchen for three years. Once he could handle the wok himself, he saved money for several more years, waking early and working late to open a small restaurant. Thanks to the good taste of his food, business was decent.
Life for the whole family began to look up, and he finally had the chance to fulfill his filial duty properly. That was when the overwhelming advertisements on the internet and television caught his eye.
They were an ads for a ‘pure traditional Chinese herbal tonic that strengthens the body, detoxifies and dispels dampness, boosts immunity, and supplements calcium to strengthen bones’ and ‘the number one choice of hundreds of millions of elderly people, the best gift for children to show filial piety to their parents’. It was a product broadcast in prime time on mainstream media, endorsed by celebrities and stars. What harm could it possibly have?
Wu Guangming didn’t know that those red gift boxes he had joyfully and gratefully given to his mother with his own hands were filled with deathly poison. By the time she was taken to the hospital, it was already too late. His mother endured half a year of agony before passing, leaving behind a half-knitted wool vest for her little granddaughter.
Wu Guangming fell hard into the whirlpool of tragedy, struggling but unable to escape. He sought justice in many places, but was kicked around like a ball, rolling through the mud, and was ultimately slammed into an abyss by the conclusion: ‘insufficient evidence, unable to file a case’.
Wu Guangming’s family of four lived in a small home of less than sixty square meters. Fortunately, both children were in school; otherwise, it would’ve felt even more cramped with Qin Mu and Gangzi squeezed in there. Wu Guangming’s wife wasn’t much of a talker. Aside from making tea and boiling water, she mostly just sat quietly.
Wu Guangming explained everything to Qin Mu in detail, taking out the inspection reports for Baolijian, his mother’s medical test documents, and various receipts from relevant departments. Suppressing his rage, he said, “My mom was always in good health. After taking that stuff for half a year, her liver was ruined. So many people got sick from it. It’s obvious that the medicine is the problem, but no one’s doing anything about it. I never wanted compensation from the start. No amount of money can bring my mom back! I’m just furious—does justice even still exist in this world?” As soon as he finished speaking, his phone rang again.
Since Qin Mu had arrived, Wu Guangming’s phone had already rung four times. Qin Mu politely said, “If something urgent has come up, please go ahead—we can reschedule.”
“I’m not busy. It’s fine.” Wu Guangming declined the call and tossed the phone aside, muttering under his breath, “These people are seriously like damn flies.”
To win the lawsuit, the materials in Wu Guangming’s hands were far from enough. As Qin Mu carefully examined them, there came a knock at the door. Wu Guangming’s wife looked through the peephole and frowned, both annoyed and resigned.
Wu Guangming’s expression darkened as he went to open the door. Outside stood two men—one fat, one thin. The fat one quickly plastered on a forced smile when he saw Wu Guangming. “You’re home? Why weren’t you answering your phone? I thought something had happened.”
“You’re probably hoping something does happen so I’ll be stuck at home every day,” Wu Guangming shot back coldly.
The two of them seemed used to his attitude and didn’t take it to heart. The fat one still grinned. “Come on, how could you say that? Of course we’re hoping for good things for you.”
The thin one chimed in, “Not opening the restaurant today? We were hoping to stop by and order a couple of dishes.” It was only ten o’clock, which was the awkward time between breakfast and lunch. It was clearly just something he said off the cuff. After speaking, he craned his neck to peer inside the house, as if searching for something.
“I’ll open when I feel like it. If I don’t feel like it, I won’t!” Wu Guangming exploded, suddenly flinging the door all the way open. He roared, “She’s home too! You see her now? Seen enough? Then get lost!” The door banged loudly as it hit the wall.
The thin man finally spotted Wu Guangming’s wife standing inside and forced a smile. “Don’t be mad, Wu ge, we really didn’t mean to bother you. It’s just… we’ve got our tasks, you know? We make our living this way—what can we do? Please understand.” As he spoke, he pulled out a cigarette and tried to offer it to ease the tension.
Wu Guangming didn’t take it, his face still dark, ignoring him completely.
The thin man awkwardly stuck the cigarette back in his own mouth, glanced at Qin Mu and Gangzi, and asked cautiously, “Got guests over?”
Wu Guangming glared at him fiercely and yanked the door shut, nearly catching the fat one’s leg before he could pull it back.
Moments later, the sound of the two men going downstairs could be heard.
Wu Guangming sat back down, somewhat irritated, and said to Qin Mu, “Sorry about that, I must’ve made a fool of myself.”
Gangzi asked curiously, “Are they debt collectors? They don’t really look like it.”
Wu Guangming waved his hand. “I wouldn’t dare get involved in that kind of stuff. They were sent from above to keep an eye on me. Ever since I went to report the issue, I was labelled as an important surveillance subject. There’s some big, important conference coming up soon, so they’ve been assigned to keep tabs on my wife and me three times a day—morning, noon, and night—afraid I’ll raise complaints again and ‘escalate the conflict, disrupt stability and unity.’ If I’m not at the restaurant, they call. If I don’t answer, they come knocking. If I’m not home, they go looking for me everywhere. Like cats chasing a mouse, they can’t let me out of their sight for even a second. That’s why I asked you two to come to my house instead—saves us all from more chaos.”
Qin Mu frowned. “Restricting someone’s personal freedom is illegal.”
Wu Guangming gave a bitter laugh. “One person suppressing a group—that’s a violation of freedom. A group suppressing one person—that’s called putting the bigger picture first. I’ve seen through it now. Freedom and justice—those things are only for the capable. People like me, useless as I am, can’t even get a straight answer when our own mothers die. Oh, right…” He remembered the topic from earlier, took out his phone and tapped a few times before handing it over. “Back when I was defending my rights, I posted some stuff online and got to know a few people who also got sick from taking Baolijian. We made a group chat. You mentioned something earlier about the chain of evidence being incomplete—I don’t really understand that, but maybe you could talk to them, see if there’s anything else that can help?”
That was of course, a good idea.
Qin Mu carefully recorded their basic information and contact details. That afternoon, he managed to get in touch with two of them. Both lived in areas surrounding J City. One of them, a woman, was currently undergoing treatment in the hospital. Toward evening, Qin Mu bought a basket of flowers and some fruit and went to the hospital, where he spoke with the patient’s attending physician to get a better understanding of her condition. By the time he came out, the sky was already pitch-black, thick with grayish smog.
Qin Mu bought a pack of Liqun cigarettes and a plastic lighter from a small street shop. He pulled one out and handed it to Gangzi.
Gangzi waved it off. “Doesn’t seem like you’re a big smoker.”
The flame from the lighter flickered unsteadily. Qin Mu held the cigarette between his fingers, placed it to his lips, bent his head to light it, and took a deep drag. Exhaling a puff of white smoke, he said, “Smoked a lot when I was younger. Quit later. These past couple days, I just can’t help but want a few drags again.”
Gangzi understood why.
The people they had seen these past two days were all suffering—some struggling at the edge of life itself, some trapped in poverty, isolated and helpless, with nowhere to turn. They were nothing like Qin Mu’s previous clients—celebrities, tycoons, interest groups—people who, even if they lost a case, still had countless backup plans. These people had none. They were already teetering on the edge of a cliff or had already fallen off, clinging desperately to fragile vines as they fought to survive.
Every pair of eyes longing for justice weighed heavily on Qin Mu’s heart, even more so with the unavenged spirit of the mentor who had once taught him.
Qin Mu rarely showed emotion. His way of relieving stress was also quiet and restrained—just like now, standing by the car, silently smoking a cigarette. By the time he finished, the tangled mess in his mind had more or less sorted itself out.
A notification popped up on his phone—it was an email from the testing agency he had commissioned earlier. The sample composition analysis report had arrived.
Qin Mu stubbed out the cigarette and said, “Let’s go back to the hotel.”
For safety reasons, Qin Mu and Gangzi stayed in a suite together. While walking through the lobby, Gangzi’s alertness noticeably heightened. Inside the elevator, Qin Mu asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Those service staff were giving us weird looks,” Gangzi said in a low voice. “Be careful—someone might be out to cause us trouble.”
“They might just be curious,” Qin Mu replied.
“Curious about what?” Gangzi didn’t quite get it.
“About what kind of relationship we have, staying in a room together.”
Gangzi’s face turned red in an instant. He muttered awkwardly under his breath, “What the hell are they thinking…”
After they entered the room, Qin Mu’s phone rang.
It was his dad.
Gangzi caught a bit of the conversation and found it somewhat surprising. Qin Mu and his father didn’t seem particularly close—their conversation was sparse, one sentence at a time, and mostly just a curt ‘En’ in response. Neither was in a hurry to hang up, and it wasn’t the kind of casual back-and-forth filled with warmth you would expect from a father and son. It was more like dealing with a client. Worried the conversation might turn personal and not wanting to intrude, Gangzi went to take a shower.
Qin Mu exchanged a few more words with Qin Aihua, then said, “I’ve still got some things to take care of here.”
“Alright, you go ahead.” Qin Aihua hesitated a moment before adding, “Um… if you have time this week, could you come home for a bit? Your mom misses you a lot.”
Qin Mu was silent for a moment before replying, “I don’t have time for now.”
“Alright then, work’s important.” The other party didn’t say anything else.
Qin Mu ended the call and stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, staring blankly at the night lights twinkling in the distance. The reflections on the glass suddenly shifted.
Gangzi done with his shower?
Just as he was about to turn around, someone covered his nose and mouth from behind. A sharp and pungent scent rushed straight to his brain.
Ether.
That was the last thought Qin Mu had before his mind went blank.
T/N:
Usually people use chloroform right?
But it’s legit 乙醚, ether/diethyl ether, C2H5OC2H5 (ᵔ́∀ᵔ̀)
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