Chapter 3: The Appraisal Note and a Promise with My Stepmother

The next morning, at nine o’clock, in the sampling room of Jingchen Laboratory. Chen Siqi walked in carrying An’an, who had just come down from a fever, but she did not sit down first. Five years ago, a single stack of photos had driven her out of the Huo family, and not one person had been willing to listen to her explain; this time was different—every step of this test, from the moment the sample was drawn to the moment the report was issued, she would watch with her own eyes, and it was not to pass through anyone else’s hands in between.

Only a sampler and a record-keeper remained in the sampling room. She spread the appointment form on the counter, her voice not loud but steady: “The three samples are to be sealed separately, and the seals applied in front of me. The IDs, the sampling times, and everyone who handles them—all written into the record. Until the report comes out, where the samples go, nobody who asks is to be told.”

The sampler nodded: “Understood. Today this sampling room is handling only your case. I’ll read out the seal numbers to you; you’ll check them and then sign off.”

Huo Jingchen stood by the door, not stepping in. He wore an all-black suit, the plain band on his left ring finger pressing the corner of the appointment form, his gaze fixed on An’an yet holding himself back from reaching out.

“Do it as she says,” he told the record-keeper. “She’s the child’s mother and a pediatric nurse; by procedure, she understands it better than any of us. If any paperwork is missing, fill it in first. Don’t rush her.”

Ningning clutched her old rabbit plush, standing on her tiptoes to peer over the edge of the sampling counter, her two little buns bobbing as she moved: “Big brother, when they draw blood, don’t look at the needle, look at the rabbit. Rabbits don’t get hurt when it’s done.”

An’an gripped one of the plush’s ears and said in a small voice, “I’m not scared. Mom stayed with me all night yesterday. I want to get better quick.”

Siqi crouched down, rolled An’an’s sleeve neatly, and cradled his hand in her palm to warm it. The child’s hand was cold, and she held it there for a long while until her own fingertips were warm, before nodding to the sampler that it could begin. The cotton swab passed over his skin, An’an frowned, but he truly did not cry; he only turned his face toward Ningning.

The three samples were drawn, the seals applied in front of everyone, the numbers matched item by item, and the sample boxes locked into the transport case. Only then did she sign her name in the confirmation field. By the time she finished the last stroke, a thin layer of sweat had broken out on the small of her back.

Ningning lifted her face and asked in a small voice: “Mommy, why do you stick so much paper on the box?”

“Because Mommy lost once when she had no proof.” Siqi straightened the bun that had gone crooked. “This time, every piece of paper is proof.”

“How long will it take for the results?” she asked.

“Even the expedited process has to wait.” The sampler tucked the form away. “The samples have to be sent for comparison. When the results are in, we’ll notify the contact on the appointment form first.”

Huo Jingchen spoke up: “Notify her first. She sees the report before anyone else.”

Siqi looked up at him, gave no thanks, only said: “Remember what you just said. Don’t wait for the results and then let someone from the Huo family get the news before I do.”

“I remember,” Huo Jingchen said. “These next days I’m only waiting for the results; I’ll make no other arrangements. If you don’t trust me, you can have Lin Xiaowei watch the lab’s records for you.”

Back in the hospital room, An’an fell asleep quickly. Lin Xiaowei came in to check on them, her red stethoscope draped around her neck. She felt An’an’s forehead and glanced over the monitoring records, her tone lighter: “The fever’s broken and the blood counts are stable. Now it’s just waiting. Siqi, don’t keep yourself so on edge. This illness can’t be rushed.”

“Waiting is the hardest part.” Siqi tucked the blanket around An’an. “He waits on the bed, I wait by the bed. Even Ningning has learned to read my face.”

Ningning tucked the plush beside An’an’s pillow and said earnestly: “I’m not waiting. I’ll keep brother company. Uncle, will you stay too?”

Huo Jingchen stopped at the foot of the bed: “I’ll stay. If anything comes up at the office, I’ll have my assistant bring the documents to the hospital. Until the results are in, I’m not going far.”

No sooner had he finished when his assistant came briskly down the corridor, clutching a kraft-paper document bag stamped with the word “urgent” over the flap. The assistant glanced at Siqi first and spoke hesitantly: “Mr. Huo, the matter you asked us to look into last night has some leads. Everything’s in the bag. Should we take it somewhere else?”

Huo Jingchen took the bag and weighed it: “Right here. Keep your voice down so you don’t startle the child.”

“Yes, sir.” The assistant lowered his voice. “You asked us to start with the set of photos from five years ago. The tech team enlarged them and compared the shooting angles and lighting, and tracked down the records from when the photos were developed. The place that printed them points to a private detective agency. The agency shut down three years ago, and the old building has long since changed its signboard.”

Siqi’s hand, still resting on the edge of the blanket, came to a halt. She did not cut in; she only slowed her breath.

The assistant continued. "The detective agency was deregistered, but the account used to receive payments back then is still on file. Finance traced the payment backwards, and the money had been routed through three layers before it reached the agency's books. The first layer was a temporary consulting account, the second bounced through one intermediary, and the third split the amount out again. At the end of the chain, the name attached to the paying side was Mrs. Shen Manli's personal assistant."

The ward went silent all at once. The monitor's beeping sounded one note at a time, each one cutting through the quiet with startling clarity.

Huo Jingchen's jaw tightened. "You're certain it's her people?"

"The name and ID number on the account both match—it's the assistant who's been with Mrs. Shen Manli for years." The assistant slid the file bag a little closer. "But I need to be upfront about one thing. This trail only proves that the money was routed out through Mrs. Manli's assistant's side. Whether Mrs. Manli herself had a hand in it, who ordered the photos taken—none of that can be confirmed by what's in this bag. If you want to go further, you'll need to get hold of the agency's original records from back then."

"Do the original records still exist?"

"Hard to say. When the agency was shut down, most of the paper records were disposed of. Our people are tracking down the person who was in charge at the time. Until we find them, this has to stay completely quiet—no one can be alerted."

Huo Jingchen gripped the file bag in his hands, knuckles whitening, the corners of the paper bag creased into a deep line from the pressure. He was silent for a long moment before speaking, his voice low. "The originals get sealed. Only one copy kept. Everyone who's been involved in what we've found signs a non-disclosure. Without my say-so, no one is to go near Shen Manli and ask her anything."

"Understood." The assistant acknowledged, then asked, "What if Mrs. Shen Manli makes a move first?"

"If she moves first, I'll know." Huo Jingchen said.

Siqi stood by the bed, her face growing paler by degrees. She had understood every word. Five years ago, she had come to him clutching that set of photos, trying to explain—and he'd turned and walked away before she finished. She had always believed it was her fault that she hadn't been clear enough, that the photos had been made to look too real. It was only today that she learned the truth: behind those photos had been a deregistered detective agency, a payment routed through three layers, and an assistant she had seen many times at the old Huo family residence—always smiling, always trailing a few steps behind Shen Manli.

"Why could you only dig this up now?" she asked, her voice thick and rough.

Huo Jingchen looked at her. "Because five years ago, I didn't look. I decided the outcome before I looked for the facts, and that's what kept all of this buried in the dust for five years. I own that."

"Owning it doesn't give me back five years." Siqi turned her gaze back to An'an's face. "I'm not going to settle this score with you right now. The appraisal hasn't come back, An'an's condition isn't confirmed, and I don't have the strength to keep score. You do your investigating, keep everything you find safe, and don't make the same mistake as five years ago—don't take one person's word and call it the whole story."

"I will." Huo Jingchen said. "The day you want to see it, everything goes into your hands."

The assistant gathered up the now-empty file bag and added, "I checked with the lab as well. The sample has gone into the matching process. They said they'd notify in the order listed on the appointment form the moment there's any result. I've verified both your number and Nurse Chen's—neither is misspelled."

Siqi nodded. "An'an needs two more days of observation before the results come in. If you have people keeping watch at the hospital, have them stay on the ground floor. Don't let them come in and out of the ward. The child just broke a fever and can't handle the comings and goings."

"You hear that?" Huo Jingchen looked at the assistant. "Arrange it the way she said."

Lin Xiaowei, standing to the side, closed the medical chart and murmured, "Keep your voices down. An'an has just fallen into a deep sleep. Whichever of you two raises her voice, both of you are going out to the hallway to talk."

Ningning, half-understanding, looked from one to the other, then dropped her voice to the softest whisper. "Mama, are they going to find the bad people?"

"Not yet." Siqi touched the top of her head. "We've found a thread. But it's a very thin one. Pull it too hard and it snaps, and there's nothing left. So we all have to go slow."

Just then, the phone Siqi had set on the bedside table vibrated.

The screen lit up—a new text message. The number wasn't in her contacts, but the signature at the end was only three characters, and the moment she saw them, her chest felt as though something had clenched around it.

Shen Manli.

Siqi picked up the phone. Her thumb hovered over the screen for a long time before she finally opened the message. It was short, the tone so polite it was almost gentle. It asked to meet, saying there were a few things about the child that needed to be said face to face.

She read the line with the location twice.

The café sat on a street in the old quarter, its frontage modest. Five years ago, before she'd been cast out of the Huo family, the last place she'd set foot in was there. She remembered the rain that day with a clarity that still cut—remembered standing at the café's doorway for what felt like hours, a bag over one shoulder holding nothing but a few changes of clothes, no idea where to go. For the five years since, in Penang, raising her kids, working the night shift, hauling goods to the early market before the sun was up, she had never once walked that street again. Not even let herself pass by.

Now that place name sat in Shen Manli's text, as though scribbled in passing, and yet as though every word had been chosen for her to read.

Huo Jingchen noticed the shift in her expression and closed the half-step between them. "Whose message is that?"

Siqi didn't hand him the phone. She kept her gaze on the screen, reading line by line, and when she reached the last one, her fingers around the frame began to tremble.

The final line read: "Bring the two children. We're going to make you an offer you can't refuse."