"Where did your kidney go?" The man's voice echoed through the bathroom.
"Where did my kidney go?" Zhao Pengcheng murmured, repeating the question, his mind blank.
"Where did your kidney go?"
"I don't know, I don't know..." Zhao Pengcheng didn't know why he had to answer. He seemed to have no obligation to answer, but he couldn't refuse.
"Don't rush. Think it over slowly. Only when you remember can you find your kidney."
"Yes, I'm in no hurry. I'll remember."
Zhao Pengcheng looked to be in agony. His lungs heaved with each ragged breath, sending wave after wave through the bathwater.
"You sold it, didn't you?"
"I sold it? I think... yes."
"Who did you sell it to?"
"Who did I sell it to?" Zhao Pengcheng froze for a moment, then looked up at the person questioning him.
The man stood right in the bathroom doorway, very close to him, yet suddenly he couldn't make out the man's face. All that remained was a hazy outline, like a ghostly silhouette.
Outside the window, the crow cawed twice again.
Zhao Pengcheng shuddered in fright. "I sold it to a kidney buyer."
"Who was the kidney buyer?"
On the other side of the glass, Hu Xing's mouth fell open in astonishment. She had watched Qingmu stand motionless after putting down the ice pop, then casually start chatting with the suspect. And the man who had held out for over thirty hours without saying a word, and who appeared to be asleep, actually spoke.
"I didn't know the kidney buyer either. Old Yu set it up."
"Who's Old Yu?"
"Yu Jianguo, from our hospital's security department."
"How many kidneys did you sell in all?"
"In all... in all... seven or eight, I suppose."
Sitting behind the interrogation table, Shi Dazhuang heard this and swore through gritted teeth, "Fuck!"
Zhao Pengcheng lay in the bathtub, no longer as uneasy and tense as he had been at first, and began telling his story in an endless stream.
Old Yu was from my hometown, the same village. He was my dad's generation. I used to call him Uncle Yu, but after he came to work at our hospital, I started calling him Old Yu.
When I was little, we were poor up in the mountains and couldn't afford school. I had a younger sister, pretty and smart, with good grades. Everyone said she was a golden phoenix from our little mountain hollow.
To let my sister stay in school, I went to work in the city with Uncle Yu after graduating from junior high. After a year, my dad told me to come home. He said my sister wasn't going to school anymore, and I should go instead.
Only when I got home did I learn that my sister was sick.
Back then, we didn't know what illness she had. The township clinic couldn't diagnose it, and we had no money to go to a big hospital, so she stayed home to recuperate.
While I was at school, I felt awful. I felt I'd really let my sister down.
My sister told me, "Study hard, big brother. Get into university and become a doctor, and then you can cure me."
I secretly swore that I would get into medical school, that I would become a doctor.
I worked very hard and finished three years of high school in just two. But my sister's health kept getting worse.
I felt we couldn't wait any longer, so I went to the city to beg Uncle Yu for help. Uncle Yu really came through for us. He contacted a hospital and even paid the hospitalization fees up front.
The doctor said we'd brought her in too late. It had already developed into chronic kidney failure, and she needed a kidney transplant.
At the time, our whole family, including people from several of my relatives' families, went to get tested. In the end, I was the only compatible match.
The day the matching results came out, my university admission letter arrived too. I'd gotten into medical university.
I remember it very clearly. That day, my dad sat on the steps outside the hospital's back door and cried all night. He said, "My boy's a university student now. He can't go to university missing a kidney!"
Uncle Yu told my dad in private that he could find a kidney donor, so we might as well buy one. My dad asked how much it would cost. Uncle Yu said fifty thousand. Back then, fifty thousand was an astronomical sum to us. Uncle Yu thumped his chest and said he'd find a way to get the money.
Later, Uncle Yu and several uncles from our village pooled the money and arranged a kidney donor, and my dad sent me off to university.
When I left, my sister lay in her hospital bed and smiled as she told me that once she got better, she would apply to medical school too. I said I'd go ahead and scout the way for her. I'd be waiting for her.
Communications weren't as advanced back then as they are now. At school, I could only keep in touch with home by letter. Occasionally, I'd call the village on a pay phone. Once I got through, I'd ask someone to fetch my dad, then hang up. Twenty minutes later, when I called again, my dad would be waiting by the phone.
My dad always said everything was fine at home, and my sister was fine too. School was so far away that I shouldn't come home for the holidays. It would be a waste of money.
I knew the family owed a lot of money, so I worked odd jobs during the holidays and earned enough to cover my own tuition and living expenses.
In my fourth year, I qualified for recommended admission to graduate school without an entrance exam, and I won a special scholarship too.
I went home for the New Year with my scholarship money and the money I'd saved from working. I wanted to give my family and the villagers a huge surprise. I also wanted to encourage my sister. By my reckoning, she was nearly due to take the university entrance exam.
Only when I got home did I learn that my sister was already gone. All those letters she'd written me had actually been written by schoolchildren in the village, whom my dad had asked to imitate her handwriting.
It turned out my sister had never received a kidney transplant at all. Something had gone wrong with the donor Uncle Yu had arranged.
The man had thought of selling his kidney because he owed gambling debts. After taking Uncle Yu's deposit, he went back on the deal and demanded more money. He said he wanted to enjoy himself properly while he still had his kidney.
He took the money and went to a prostitute, only to get caught by the police during a vice raid. The police rounded up the entire kidney-selling ring. Uncle Yu was implicated too and got three years.
If I'd gone back in time then, perhaps I could still have saved my sister. But my dad kept it from me so I could focus on my studies. Everyone kept it from me. They all said it wasn't easy for someone from the mountains to get into university, and they couldn't let me go there missing a kidney.
I had a huge fight with my family over it. I knew my dad had meant well. I also knew that after Uncle Yu was arrested, the family really couldn't afford the operation anymore. But whenever I thought of my sister, I couldn't help myself.
Later, my dad fell ill and never recovered. Within two years, he passed away too.
After Uncle Yu got out of prison, he spent a few years trying to get by, but things didn't go very well for him. By then, I was already working at the city hospital. He came to see me and said, "Son, don't blame your uncle for what happened to your sister. And don't blame your dad either."
I didn't blame him. Uncle Yu was a good man. I didn't blame my dad either. He was already gone. If anyone was to blame, it was me. If I'd insisted on using my own kidney back then, my sister wouldn't have died. And that man who agreed to sell his kidney, then went back on his word-someone like that deserved to die.
I pulled some strings with the management and got Uncle Yu a job in the hospital's security department.
We often drank together and talked about the old days, about my dad, my sister, and his disgraces and exploits in prison. Sometimes, when we drank too much, we'd hold our heads and have a good cry.
Once, he said, "Nephew, don't call me Uncle anymore. Call me Old Yu. Whenever you call me Uncle, I want to cry."
From then on, I called him Old Yu.
Zhao Pengcheng spoke with his eyes closed, as though talking in his sleep. On the surveillance feed, Hu Xing could clearly see two trails of tears spilling from the corners of his eyes, running down his cheeks and into his collar.
Shi Dazhuang looked grave as he took notes in his notebook. As the officer in charge of the case, he had plenty of questions for the suspect. But at that moment, all he could do was watch Qingmu work. He couldn't help at all.
"What happened after that?" Qingmu asked.
"After that..."
"It was about two years ago, I think," Zhao Pengcheng murmured. "Old Yu said he'd seen the guy who promised to sell us his kidney and then backed out. He was wearing a big gold chain, all dressed up like he was somebody, and getting treatment at our hospital."