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墨書 Inktalez
I nervously looked at him. "Dr. Yang, what do you know?" My heart raced, and my palms began to sweat.
Dr. Yang Mu sighed. "Your background is much more complicated than you think." He paused before continuing, "I know you've been wanting to know the cause of your mother's death; in fact..."
I held my breath, waiting for his answer.
"Actually, your mother was involved in a car accident." Dr. Yang Mu's tone was somber, and there was a hint of pity in his gaze.
My body jolted as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over me, leaving me chilled to the bone. I gripped the armrests of the chair tightly, my nails nearly digging into the wood. "A car accident? What kind of accident?" My voice trembled, barely audible.
"A man-made car accident," Dr. Yang Mu said heavily.
I suddenly stood up, the chair scraping against the floor with a harsh sound. "Man-made...?" I repeated those words shakily, disbelief and terror filling my eyes.
"Zhang Yue, calm down," Dr. Yang Mu also stood up, trying to soothe me. "I know this is hard for you to accept, but the truth..."
"Who did it?" I interrupted him sharply, my voice high-pitched and trembling. "Who caused this accident? Who killed my mother?" I clutched Dr. Yang Mu's arm tightly, my nails digging into his flesh as if grasping for a lifeline.
Dr. Yang Mu gently patted the back of my hand, signaling me to calm down. "Zhang Yue, I know you want to know the truth; I will do my best to help you. But right now, you need to calm down so we can find the answers more effectively." He guided me back into my seat with a gentle yet firm tone.
"Tell me everything! Tell me everything!" My voice still quivered as I fixed my gaze on Dr. Yang Mu, filled with longing and pain.
Dr. Yang Mu sighed and nodded slightly. "Alright, I'll tell you everything I know." He walked over to the water dispenser and filled a cup with water before handing it to me. "Drink some water first; calm down."
I took the cup with trembling hands, my fingertips icy cold. However, due to my overwhelming emotions, the cup tilted, spilling water that soaked a photograph on top of the box.
I hurriedly set down the cup and fumbled for a tissue to wipe the photo clean. It was a picture of my mother.
As the water stains faded away, I noticed that the back of the photo revealed a series of blurred numbers due to being wet.
"What is this?" I examined the numbers closely as my heartbeat quickened. This sequence might hold some important clue.
Carefully drying off the photo with a tissue, I took out my phone and transcribed the numbers exactly as they were.
Dr. Yang Mu had been silently observing everything; his expression grew serious as he approached me and glanced at what I had written down, his brow furrowing.
"This sequence of numbers..." he pondered for a moment. "I don't know what it represents either, but I feel it must be significant."
He looked up at me with a serious and concerned tone. "Zhang Yue, why don't you go home and rest for now? I'll do my best to investigate what these numbers mean; it may involve Duan Peng."
I nodded and carefully placed the photo and letters back into the box before standing up and bowing deeply to Dr. Yang Mu. "Thank you, Dr. Yang."
"You're welcome," Dr. Yang Mu replied with a gentle smile. "Take care of yourself."
I picked up the box and turned to leave Dr. Yang Mu's office.
I hailed a taxi, saying, "Driver, to Urban Village." My voice was a bit hoarse, and after speaking, I turned my head toward the window, watching the street scenery rush by, reflecting my chaotic thoughts at that moment.
The car stopped at the intersection of Urban Village. I paid the fare and got out, walking into the narrow alleyway. The ground was uneven, and the low, dilapidated houses on either side exuded a damp, musty smell. Following the address provided by Dr. Yang Mu, I found Duan Peng's residence.
I remembered that Duan Peng had loved keeping accounts when he was alive; perhaps his home still held some hidden, deadly evidence. As the insurance adjuster for my family's exorbitant insurance payout, what role did he play in my mother's accident?
With that thought in mind, I quickened my pace.
It was a two-story small building with a mottled exterior; the peeling paint revealed gray bricks underneath. I approached the door, took out my keychain from my bag, and tried to pick the lock with a wire. The wire turned in the keyhole with a faint scratching sound. After several attempts, I heard a click—the lock opened.
I pushed open the door, and a wave of stale air hit me. The room was dimly lit and filled with a musty odor. It wasn't large; it contained only a bed, a table, and a wardrobe—nothing more.
I began to search the room carefully, hoping to find some useful clues. I rummaged through under the bed, the wardrobe, and the drawers of the table but found nothing.
Could it be that Duan Peng left behind nothing?
My gaze fell on a locked drawer on the table.
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