Miao Qingyu carefully put away the exchange ticket, then checked the time. "Alright, I'll have an expert help recover it. Our favorability is pretty high right now, so he won't rip me off. I need to go—some deliveries are about to time out."
Then she handed a notebook to Mohist. "These are prisoners' family members I contacted while making deliveries. Some have already been scammed until they lost everything and refuse to believe me. But some still have hope and are willing to help me contact the prisoners. You're a journalist, so maybe you can write something based on this."
Mohist took the notebook and nodded. "Alright. Xinjing, listen in too. Later, you can try leaving messages for the corresponding prisoners and make them trust you."
Xinjing said, "Yes. You read, I'll listen."
Pressed for time, Miao Qingyu jumped straight out the window to continue delivering packages, leaving only Mohist in the library and Xinjing on the other end of the phone.
Opening the notebook, Mohist began to read softly. "My child is called Song Jiannan. He's a little chubby, but very honest. He was only seven when he was sent in, and it's been three years now. We don't know why he was sent in. The prison keeps telling us to submit supplementary materials, but we've been submitting them for three years, and they're still asking for more. We don't expect to save him, but we want to know whether he's still alive."
Staring at the words on the page, Mohist felt that these records were very light, so light that they did not even fill a single page.
But they were also very heavy, because they recorded a child's entire life.
Given the conditions in Xu Clan Prison, that child had most likely already become an experiment or