Couldn’t buy a ticket for that evening, caught the earliest flight, arrived at the hospital at nine in the morning. Passing the reporters’ cars waiting full at the hospital entrance, she entered the second floor of Building 5. When she arrived there, the light in the corridor was half-bright and half-dark. Some people were sleeping on the rest chairs against the wall, some were leaning by the window of the intensive care ward, some were slowly pacing in the center. Dong Xi’s outer garment slipped halfway off her shoulder from walking quickly, her chest rising and falling, long hair slightly disheveled. She looked at the ICU ward sign, then at the person ten steps away.

Jin Yiken was there.

Standing in the center of three or four white-haired doctors in white coats, looking at materials, listening to analysis. She saw his frame that had been holding up for a day and night, also saw his nearly dejected mental state, head constantly half-lowered, unable to see clearly the expression beneath the shadow.

The doctors gestured medical hand signals in the air.

He couldn’t hear complete sentences, raising question after question, but being patted on the shoulder again and again. Each time he was patted on the shoulder, that heavy force felt as if it was empathetically patting on her shoulder.

Dull pain.

She walked toward the ICU ward window.

Ban Wei was there, leaning by the window. Following the movement, she saw her, uncertain if it was her, calling out: “Dong Xi?”

On the rest chair against the wall, the woman supporting her forehead gently raised her brow. But Dong Xi neither heard nor responded, her hand slowly covering the glass, looking at the person lying inside. She bit her lower lip soundlessly, her chest rising and falling once, then again. A patch of mist formed on the glass surface where her hand pressed, dissipating silently.

Long Qi’s bed was surrounded by three medical personnel wearing protective suits.

Couldn’t see her face, could only see the side of the bed, that wrist of hers wrapped with several tubes.

That wrist hadn’t been like this before. That wrist had once rested on her wrist, the white shirt of the school uniform always rolled to the middle, tied with rope chains that never repeated weekly. That wrist had also helped her put on scarves, had touched her ear and neck.

Not like now.

Eyes stinging, she heard a faint voice beside her: “Are you my daughter’s classmate?”

Turning her head, meeting eyes with the woman who had just stood up. She was wrapped in a thin blanket, holding a thermos and walking to the window glass. Her hair wasn’t very neat, there were slight bloodshots in her eyes. She looked her over, asking peacefully: “Or a friend? Colleague?”

Dong Xi didn’t answer. Dong Xi’s eyes were very red.

Ban Wei said: “This is… Long Qi’s mother, Auntie Long.”

“…Hello, Auntie.”

“Must be a friend,” Long Ziyi said, pointing weakly toward the ward, “My daughter is like me, remembers faces, loves making friends with good-looking people… You came to see her?”

She nodded.

“Are you… local?”

Shook her head: “This morning’s flight.”

“Rushed to catch a flight,” Long Ziyi responded, looking again into the ward. When she withdrew her gaze, her eyes were also red, laughing once with a hoarse voice, “With her terrible character she can still make friends like you, I really didn’t expect it.”

It was this sentence that broke her composure, destroyed the exhaustion from rushing early in the morning, and half a youth’s strength.

Eyes reddening, tears silently falling out. Long Ziyi watched, saying: “It’s okay, it’s okay… She’s fine.”

…

“You’re studying, took leave from school to come. She has a big temper, you can tolerate her, you could think to come see her, Auntie is quite gratified.”

…

“Auntie usually manages her very little, doesn’t know anything.”

…

“How much were the round-trip tickets? Let me reimburse you, you tell Auntie…”

Suddenly stepping forward to hug her mother, Long Ziyi’s steps caught off guard retreated half a step back. Dong Xi’s chin buried in her shoulder, choking lightly once, not answering a single question. Long Ziyi’s body paused for half a second, then handed the thermos in her hand to Ban Wei, then gently stroking her back shoulder: “It’s okay, she just had a small surgery.”

No response, the emotions inside surging more and more violently. Biting her lower lip to suppress the choking, no resentment, no hatred, only holding her mother’s shoulders tighter, holding tightly, tears falling. Long Ziyi slowly patted her shoulder, truly treating her as her daughter’s friend, repeatedly comforting and patting. Finally, as if thoroughly understanding, or casually, sighing: “It seems my daughter has made quite a few people suffer grievances.”

…

Those inside the situation, those outside the situation.

…

After a long while, collecting her emotions, sitting on the rest chair, wrapped in a shawl with head lowered, long hair tucked behind ears, covering half her face.

Long Qi’s mother, who had kept watch all night, was persuaded by the person beside her to return to the hotel to rest.

A can of warm milk coffee was handed to her. When she looked up, Jin Yiken had taken a seat next door, holding another can of coffee in his hand. Everyone present was exhausted. He was precisely the person most determined not to rest. Still had spirit, but spirit was also nearly depleted. As he sat down, he directed a sentence to Ban Wei on the opposite chair: “Don’t keep watch, go back and rest.”

Ban Wei looked at him. He tilted his brow slightly, giving Ban Wei another physical warning beyond words. Ban Wei originally didn’t move, but later nodded slightly: “Alright then… Jiakui said she’ll come for shift change at ten. When she arrives, you go back to the hotel to rest, at least sleep for a while. No one can last several days and nights.”

He made no sound in response.

Ban Wei continued like him, elbows pressing toward knees, body leaning this way, eyes alertly probing toward the other side of the corridor. Dong Xi followed the line of sight, seeing several people standing at the corner of the east corridor—a mentally exhausted male student, a man in his early thirties. She recognized the former as the person who had rescued Long Qi in the news video footage, the latter as Zang Xipu who had film collaboration with Long Qi. Opposite the male student stood two more people who were asking questions and taking statements, like police. Ban Wei’s gaze returned, looking at Jin Yiken: “What about him? Leave him here? Or should I take him back to the hotel and continue watching? I think his uncle will manage this matter sooner or later.”

“His uncle won’t leave, so he won’t dare leave.”

Not answering the question about whether to stay or not, he said this flatly. Ban Wei contemplated for two or three seconds, nodding: “As you said, I’ve already found someone to match the faces that appeared in the surveillance with the on-site personnel list. That surveillance camera’s angle actually has blind spots, might not have recorded everyone, but anyway, worth trying.”

Pausing, he said again: “According to the current testimonies of several people and the situation in the surveillance, it’s pretty much consistent with what Zang Siming said as fact, but there’s one time point that’s somewhat strange. Ten minutes before the incident, the first floor was originally quite spacious, but suddenly it seemed like everyone gathered on the deck, very crowded. I asked, Jian Yizhen said they saw dolphins at that time, so everyone came down. She even recorded the dolphins she filmed at the time on her phone…”

“When you were present,” he interrupted, “did you see any service staff on the yacht?”

Ban Wei was startled: “There were service staff on the yacht?”

“Did you check how many speedboats were dispatched for the sea rescue?”

Ban Wei couldn’t answer.

Jin Yiken watched his reaction, didn’t say anything else, tilting his brow: “Don’t think about these things anymore, go back and sleep.”

Ban Wei collected himself, nodded, stood up, made eye contact with Dong Xi to say goodbye. Dong Xi watched him leave. After he turned past the corner, her palm stroked the warm milk coffee can, asking softly: “What happened?”

His elbows propped on his knees, index finger and thumb pressing the bridge of his nose at the brow, eyes closed.

“Investigating.”

“The password, did you figure it out?”

“No.”

“Is there something in the phone?”

Looking toward the east corridor several times, then the pull tab on the coffee can in his hand opened with a “click”: “I’m not sure.”

Two seconds later, saying again: “She often changes passwords. Most passwords are related to important days. Think about it.”

“Then,” she asked slowly again, “fingerprint unlock?”

“Cancelled. In high school one year during lunch break, her brother unlocked it and stole photos.”

She nodded.

Her thumb touched the pull tab of the milk coffee. The tab was hard, didn’t pull. Jin Yiken’s hand came over, with a “click” sound, the tab opened. Dong Xi watched, speaking: “It’s not likely to be numbers related to me. She and I, we’ve already talked.”

“On the day you went to England.” Adding.

Jin Yiken turned his head.

“The day I was at your house, the call you made to Long Qi using my phone… was actually answered by mistake.” Dong Xi said.

…

“She wanted to answer your call, Jin Yiken.”

He made no sound, taking a sip of coffee.

“Actually it was obvious, but we both overlooked it. If she really wanted to answer my call, she would have called back, but she didn’t. She called you back, and you broke the SIM card… The day you went to England I asked, she admitted it herself.”

…

“I don’t know if Long Qi ever really had me in her heart. She perhaps did use me to set passwords,” pausing, because of certain memories, certain flashing noisy classroom scenes, her brow furrowed slightly, voice lowering somewhat, fingertips rubbing the can body, “…did hint at me using passwords while studying, but there’s no reason it would still be me now.”

“She had you back then.”

Jin Yiken listened, saying, his back leaning against the chair, silently raising his leg, ankle resting on knee, lowering his head to look at Long Qi’s phone. The screen battery was only at two percent.

“She likes you very much now.” Dong Xi replied.

After pausing slightly, saying in a low voice: “On the way here I thought, if back then when I discovered your fever, I had called Long Qi first instead of insisting on solving it myself, would you two not have had so many things happen afterward, and today’s incident wouldn’t have happened either.”

“Don’t think about butterfly effect theories. Discussing the matter as it stands, it can’t be blamed on you at all, Dong Xi.”

“I was selfish back then.”

“Everyone was selfish.”

Jin Yiken still sat with his leg raised, voice raised somewhat, proactively cutting off her self-blame. The phone in his hand switched back to his own, searching for communication service centers near the hospital. Dong Xi just noticed, and he locked the screen. The phone rotated a circle in his palm, asking her: “Did you bring a power bank?”

Lowering her head, taking out a power bank from the bag beside her, then taking Long Qi’s phone, plugging it in to charge. Jin Yiken stood up, squinting toward the east corridor: “I’m going to the service center, about half an hour. Help me hold onto her phone. If there’s any situation, call me.”

“You’re going to get a replacement card?”

“Right.”

Wanting to stand up, but Jin Yiken’s hand quickly pressed down on her left shoulder: “Don’t get up. If anyone asks, just say I’m in the doctor’s office, then call me.”

She looked at him.

He still looked toward the east corridor, his gaze always like a wolf’s. After a second or two, withdrawing, saying: “I feel reassured now that you’re here, Dong Xi.”

Then Jin Yiken left.

After enduring a long cold and hopeless time, unable to bear it, she returned to stand in front of the ICU window, through the glass, looking at Long Qi inside.

There was another woman present, short hair, twenty-five or twenty-six years old, often having brief exchanges with Zang Xipu, also making a few exchanges with the mentally exhausted male student leaning against the wall. One question, one answer. Dong Xi heard that male student’s name was Zang Siming, heard the general course of events. As that male student’s tone became increasingly irritable, the phone in Dong Xi’s bag rang.

A WeChat message from Zhang Muyi lit up on the screen, asking if she had landed safely.

—Arrived at the hospital.

“That’s good. How is Long Qi’s condition?”

Zhang Muyi sent a voice message asking.

Dong Xi didn’t reply.

While her gaze was still lingering on the phone screen, the questioning voice beside her stopped, then someone spoke, slowly: “Are you Dong Xi?”

Turning her head, meeting eyes with the short-haired woman beside her. Like she knew her, sizing her up, looking at her with questioning eyes, while also because of Dong Xi’s reciprocal sizing up, extending her hand to point toward the ward: “I’m the director of a drama Long Qi is trying out for. My name is Wu’er. Before I met Long Qi, I searched for her online, so I have an impression of you.”

Generally knowing what topics the searches contained, also generally knowing what impression, Dong Xi nodded, not speaking.

“That’s Zang Siming,” she pointed at the male student, “Long Qi’s friend, was on the yacht with her…”

“I know, I saw the news.” Dong Xi responded softly.

After Wu’er confirmed the identity, she also didn’t speak, clearing her throat with a dry cough.

Five seconds later, Dong Xi turned her head again: “If.”

“Hmm?”

“If Long Qi wakes up, don’t tell her I came.”

“You won’t wait until she wakes up before leaving?”

“I will, but don’t mention it.”

“…” After pausing for several seconds, Wu’er said, “You’re very gentle.”

Dong Xi listened calmly, stroking her arm, the hair at her forehead and eyelashes lightly touching, replying with a thank you.

Didn’t wait in front of the ward anymore.

Returned to the rest area, taking out her phone again. Still didn’t reply to Zhang Muyi’s message. Switched to the campus network, looking for Long Qi’s account from the friend list, but when clicking, it showed the account had been cancelled. Her finger paused on the cancelled page for two seconds, then exited the page, returned to her own homepage, clicked on the album, then clicked on the “locked” album within it.

Inside the page, several group photos gradually appeared that the boys had taken when tutoring Long Qi in senior year.

One photo, then another, sliding backward.

It was the second half of senior year, early autumn, in the library’s spreading light. Long Qi sat beside her, leaning against the chair back, wearing a chunky knit sweater, hair in a loose bun, a bit lazy, a bit boyish. Pen held in hand, from initially doing problems, to discovering the lens and propping her cheek, to slowly smiling, her head gradually leaning toward her shoulder, arm resting behind her. While Dong Xi was focused on grading her test paper at the time, she faced the lens, using that hand resting on the shoulder to make half of what Dong Xi hadn’t discovered—a heart shape.

A total of twelve photos, facilitating this implicit confession.

Also like that year in high school when questioned about her phone password but didn’t give an answer, she defiantly input the first two password digits on her own phone. Those first two digits were her own birthday date.

Dong Xi looked.

Once and again, quiet or aggressive hints, time and again met with disregard. Affection that came too early, joy that arrived too late, ultimately became a regrettable miss, damp and wet, cool and chilly. Taking a breath, pressing her lips together.

…

There was a slight noise from the ward area.

At that time she had been sitting in the rest area for half a quarter hour. Originally supporting her forehead, slowly withdrawing attention from the phone screen, turning her head following the sound, seeing Wu’er pressed against the window and Zang Siming who suddenly bounced up from the wall. Both their gazes were fixed on the ward. Realizing something, her heart thumped.

She stood up.

Walking toward there, walking faster and faster. Arriving at the window, following their line of sight to look at the person inside.

Long Qi seemed to have produced a bit of consciousness. That wrist of hers was no longer limply drooping lifelessly, but was being held in a man’s hand. Zang Xipu didn’t know when he had gone in, wearing medical protective clothing, attended by two medical personnel, currently bending down listening to something at her ear, holding her hand and stroking her forehead. Long Qi’s face was blocked. Dong Xi couldn’t even see her entire upper body. Immediately turning her head to ask: “Why can people go in? When did he go in?”

But Zang Siming, who she questioned, had a face paler than Long Qi’s wrist, forehead sweating, lips slightly parted. Wu’er explained: “People can go in. It’s visiting hours right now. Only one person at a time.”

When looking back again, that wrist Zang Xipu was holding drooped limply down again. Zang Xipu called several times at her ear, no response. Medical personnel walked around. A doctor team who had heard the news also hurriedly came from one part of the corridor, a grand procession. Zang Xipu inside the ward was advised by medical personnel to leave.

She immediately lowered her head to find Jin Yiken from her contacts, but Zhang Muyi’s incoming call happened to collide at this time. She answered. Zhang Muyi asked: “Why aren’t you replying to messages? Has the situation changed?”

…

In less than a few minutes, Zang Xipu, having taken off his protective suit, came out from the ward. Dong Xi had just finished speaking briefly with Zhang Muyi. Hanging up the phone, she went up to ask: “How is her condition? What did she say?”

“Uncle.” Zang Siming behind immediately called.

Zang Xipu raised his eyes, glanced at her, glanced at Zang Siming behind him, replying: “She doesn’t have strength to speak.”

Then looking at Wu’er: “Take care of her.”

The “her” here openly referred to Dong Xi. Immediately following, the next sentence directed at Zang Siming: “Come with me, your mother has something.”

Zang Siming trembled. The uncle and nephew immediately headed toward the corridor entrance. Wu’er obviously understood. When Dong Xi wanted to follow, her elbow was grabbed. Dong Xi turned her head. The two met eyes silently. Wu’er shrugged: “Probably… just chatting about family matters.”

But it happened to also carry a self-justification that even she herself was in mental struggle with. Dong Xi said nothing, looking deeply at her, frowning with moisture in her eyes. After four or five seconds, the thought struggle failed. Wu’er sighed, letting go. Dong Xi immediately went toward where the uncle and nephew had walked, seeing them enter the stairwell, through a door talking inside. So she returned to the corridor to press the elevator.

After reaching the upper floor, she quietly pushed open the door at the emergency stairwell, entering the stairwell. Across one floor, just in time to hear Zang Siming’s somewhat anxious sentence from downstairs: “What exactly did she say, Uncle?”

Indeed not family matters.

Walking down one or two steps along the handrail, leaning in a position where she wouldn’t be detected, hearing Zang Xipu reply: “You tell me first, what exactly were you all doing on the boat?”

There was breathing sound. Zang Siming didn’t speak. Zang Xipu steadily said: “You want to hide even from me?”

“Uncle, what did she tell you?”

“I’ll hear what you have to say first.”

“Fuck…” Hearing a low curse, Dong Xi leaned against the handrail, her chest rising and falling slightly. Zang Siming spoke with a slightly crying tone: “It’s not my business, really not my business, Uncle. But Jin Yiken will kill me. He won’t care what I did to save Long Qi. He’ll only listen to what Long Qi says. But it really has nothing to do with me. I didn’t even touch a hair on her head!”

“Whose business is it?”

“I don’t know,” Zang Siming said. “I really don’t know anything. I’m really wronged, Uncle. I’ve been cooperative enough.”

“I’ll give you one last chance to let me save you.”

Zang Xipu’s sentence had no emotional fluctuation, steady to the point of being terrifying.

Zang Siming paused.

After a silence approaching deathly stillness, Zang Siming’s crying tone disappeared, asking back: “Uncle, what exactly did she tell you?”

“You have to tell the truth before I know how to handle it.”

Quiet.

Dong Xi held her breath.

“She recorded an audio on her phone. That phone is with Jin Yiken, now in that girl’s bag.”

After saying this, Zang Siming immediately added: “The problem is that recording, Uncle. It’s nonsense. She was emotionally worked up at the time, grabbing whoever to blame. None of it’s true! I’m just afraid someone will use that recording to cause trouble!”

“What was the situation on the boat?”

“I’m really absolutely innocent, Uncle. I swear. Long Qi, she’s unconscious now. She herself didn’t even know she was carrying a child. Everyone on the boat can testify for me. Long Qi is just crazy. Drank too much and threw a drunken fit. Now that things have blown up, when she wakes up she’ll definitely pin it on me!”

“How do you explain the traumatic miscarriage?”

“When she jumped off the boat, she hit the ship’s railing. I estimate it was at that time.”

A subtle silence. Zang Siming’s voice lowered somewhat: “Uncle, Long Qi isn’t just involved with Jin Yiken. I know her. Her private life during school was more chaotic than anyone’s. She’s done everything with people in the industry. Just the people I know who’ve hooked up with her number this many.”

Like he made a numerical gesture, then continued: “Now there’s a dead person in her belly, and she’s lying. I know Uncle you appreciate her, but this woman isn’t worth it.”

…

Dong Xi listened to all this, watching them.

While Zang Xipu watched Zang Siming.

No sound, no movement, just quietly watching his nephew like this. Like a silent lion, hearing everything in his ears, but not giving a response or attitude. Standing in the dark corridor, hands in pockets, squinting.

After a long while, speaking: “Siming, what kind of person you are, what rotten accounts you have on you, I’m all clear about. Some words shouldn’t be said absolutely. What’s true and what’s false, you know in your heart. Don’t treat Uncle as a fool. Rotten mud can still be propped up against a wall, but if it starts stinking, that mud becomes useless. I’ll ask one last time: the boat incident, were you involved or not?”

…

…

“No.” Zang Siming answered decisively.

“Good,” Zang Xipu responded. “Then let’s first go solve the phone problem.”

The moment Zang Xipu’s words fell, Dong Xi remembered her bag was still placed on the chair in the rest area downstairs, and Long Qi’s phone was charging inside.

In that instant she stood up, a “rustling” sound. Zang Xipu and Zang Siming simultaneously looked up. As Dong Xi disregarded the sound pushing the door rushing toward the elevator, Zang Siming cursed once, also fiercely pushing open his floor’s stairwell door!

Palms sweating, forehead in cold sweat. The process of the elevator going from the upper floor to the lower floor felt like an entire season passing. The elevator dinged open. She ran out while calling Jin Yiken. The hospital corridor had multiple corners. No signal response came from the other end of the phone! Running until her outer garment slipped off her shoulder, finally turning past the last corner to look toward the ICU ward rest area—

Her steps stopped.

The empty corridor in the center. Wu’er leaned against the wall watching the current situation, also following the sound looking toward Dong Xi.

Zang Siming was gasping, standing as if abruptly halted three meters from the rest chair. Zang Xipu after him stood steady as Mount Tai with hands in pockets. Opposite them, three meters away in the rest area.

Jin Yiken sat there.

Already returned.

The second Dong Xi saw his profile, saw her bag intact on the chair next to him, she exhaled a breath dangerously, legs suddenly a bit weak. Supporting herself against the wall. Jin Yiken didn’t notice here.

He sat, head lowered, his own phone at his ear, seriously listening to something. Brow slightly furrowed. Outside the hospital window it was raining. The rain light covered his shoulders. His expression was like a child who had missed his beloved—a trace of regret, a trace of remorse, a trace of intense heartache and reluctance toward his lover. Unable to put into words, immense sorrow.

Dong Xi went around Zang Xipu and Zang Siming. Approaching Jin Yiken, she didn’t stop her steps, collapsing onto the chair. In front of that uncle and nephew, saying: “Jin Yiken… there’s a recording in her phone…”

His left hand pressed against his knee, holding Long Qi’s phone.

Dong Xi supported herself on the chair back.

Jin Yiken didn’t look at her. He was also looking at the phone at this moment.

Slowly putting down his own phone, hanging up the voice mailbox he had finished listening to. His thoughts seemed completely immersed in another world, looking at Long Qi’s phone screen.

Then, his gaze slowly moved to the web of his left thumb.

The web of his thumb.

The place Long Qi had tightly dug into. The sensation still remained on the skin of the tattoo. At the tail end of that string of circular number tattoo, a fingernail mark remained.

Not hinting at people with injuries on the web of the thumb… not only hinting at people with injuries on the web of the thumb.

Circular number tattoo. The coordinate values tattooed back then to commemorate the lighthouse, starting with 121, ending with 403395, exactly six digits.

Pressing the home button, Long Qi’s phone screen lit up, entering the password field. He said not a word, finger pressing “4.”

Dong Xi was breathing.

0… 3…

Zang Xipu watched.

3… 9…

At the corridor corner, Wu Jiakui arriving for shift change just arrived, walking from afar, observing here.

…5.

Click—

A crisp sound.

The phone unlocked, automatically jumping into the recording interface before the lock screen. A recording from over twenty hours ago lay inside securely. The screen light illuminated Jin Yiken’s chin.

That moment.

Long Qi’s face, smile, the look in her eyes when smoothing her hair, the fingers sliding on the phone screen, biting his ear saying “I also want to be with you,” the lonely choking flowing in the voice mailbox, all came overwhelmingly at this moment. The back of his neck stiff and cold.

While Zang Siming’s face turned ashen, gradually backing away.

While backing away, staring at the person three meters away. Staring at Jin Yiken who at this moment finally had clear vision, figured out the path, saw clearly the prey for vengeful killing, like a wild wolf returning to its origin. The force he had been storing up for so long, the breath he had been suppressing because he couldn’t figure out the threads, all at this moment when the phone unlocked with a crisp sound, silently brewing into a powerful aura that made people fearful. Backing away faster and faster, his face looking worse and worse. Then he simply turned and fled awkwardly, crashing through Wu’er and Wu Jiakui, running into the emergency stairwell, dialing Yu Peng’s phone, voice trembling saying: “Can’t cover for you anymore…”

…

“…The recording came out. Go abroad and hide for a while. Go anywhere the hell you want… Hide as deep as you can. Don’t come out to play. Also, tell your family, get the elders involved. Absolutely don’t fucking handle it yourself! Yu Peng, this matter has reached this level and must be resolved by your parents’ generation!”