Silent Testimony - Chapter 1

“Recently, the sub-bureau’s Criminal Investigation Brigade, through 56 hours of arduous work and focused dedication, successfully apprehended the criminal suspect, Liu Mou. The case is currently under further investigation…”

The pouring rain hammered against the window pane, causing a persistent buzzing sound. Thunder rumbled, and two flashes of lightning sliced across the night sky, briefly illuminating the dim hospital room.

Lying flat on the hospital bed, Lǐ Hèwēi woke from a deep sleep. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly as she raised her eyes to stare blankly at the television screen ahead, which was broadcasting “Pú Chén News.”

Pú Chén City, July 16, 2015. The 7.13 Major Murder Case achieved a phased victory. Lǐ Hèwēi caught the key points of the news. Her temples pulsed violently, and her head was splitting with pain.

Am I still dreaming? She raised her right hand, which was not receiving an intravenous drip, and rubbed her forehead, trying to sort through her memories. She had gone to the city’s northern crematorium for an autopsy in the afternoon, taken a shower after getting home, and planned a two-minute nap. How could she have fallen into such a deep sleep and dreamt such inexplicable things?

I cannot sleep anymore; I still need to write the autopsy report. Lǐ Hèwēi tried to escape the dream, struggling to sit up. However, the feeling of cold medicinal fluid being continuously infused into her body via the vein became clearer and impossible for her to ignore.

Too real.

Her sense of hearing gradually returned, and footsteps from outside became closer. Someone pushed the door open and entered.

“Sister, you’re finally awake!” The girl wore twin braided pigtails, was short in stature, and looked like a university student. Her voice was crisp as she promptly turned on the lights in the ward.

Sister? Lǐ Hèwēi did not recognize the person in front of her, and her mind became even more muddled.

She came from an ordinary blue-collar family, was an only child, and had only two female cousins and one paternal cousin with whom she rarely communicated. Her mother did not take care of herself during pregnancy and later had frequent periods of poor health due to busy work; she died of illness when Lǐ Hèwēi was three. Her father remarried when she was six. Fortunately, her stepmother treated her as her own, so Lǐ Hèwēi’s childhood was happy and stable. However, good times were short-lived. In the second semester of her senior year of high school, her father, who had been an alcoholic for years and ignored all warnings, died suddenly from an acute high blood pressure episode. Thus, she completely lost her blood relatives and relied solely on her stepmother.

Two years ago, her stepmother retired and was taken back to her hometown by her niece to reunite and enjoy her later years; Lǐ Hèwēi would occasionally take time off to visit her during holidays.

So, where did this younger sister come from?

“Why are you staring blankly? The others aren’t here, so I volunteered to stay and look after you.” The girl, who called herself her sister, approached and, without waiting for a reply, took out the takeout food from the bag. “Oh, and your sister-in-law is here, too.”

Lǐ Hèwēi was even more astonished, blurting out, “Sister-in-law?” She was thirty-two, preferred women, and was still unmarried. Due to her job and surrounding environment, she did not even have a girlfriend.

“Sister Táo Líng, she was afraid of disturbing you, so she ran downstairs to take a phone call.”

At this statement, a strange feeling suddenly welled up in Lǐ Hèwēi’s heart. She seemed to have heard that name somewhere? Pondering for a moment, memories flooded her mind like a deluge…

“Sister Wēi, in the unit-case investigation novel I’m reading, the female lead actually has the same name as you.”

“Her profession is also similar. She majored in forensic pathology, but after graduation, due to a personal hobby, she tested into the sub-bureau and became a simulated portrait artist.”

Lǐ Hèwēi worked as a Principal Forensic Doctor at the Judicial Appraisal Institute for over seven years, and her pastime in her spare time was also sketching with a pencil.

“Is that so?” She had listened to her assistant’s introduction, occasionally interjecting a couple of words.

“Yes, and the cases are well-written. I really like her partner, Forensic Doctor Táo Líng.”

“Oh my gosh, Captain Qiū is so cool; I want to marry her.”

“The female lead’s family atmosphere is really good: a mischievous cousin, a mother with a strong personality who is kind and understanding at crucial moments…”

Lǐ Hèwēi had little interest in the novel’s content. Soon after, a new commission from the Municipal Procuratorate arrived, keeping her busy nonstop. She vaguely remembered her assistant lamenting Táo Líng’s death in the line of duty and being surprised that the female lead became a suspect in her husband’s murder. As for the ending, she had no idea.

“Did you damage your brain when you fell?”

The astonished voice by her ear yanked Lǐ Hèwēi back to her senses. She rubbed her forehead. Although she was no longer at an age ignorant of the world, facing such a sudden change with an uncertain future, panic was inevitable, and she could only force herself to remain calm: “My head hurts; I cannot remember things.”

“Who am I?” The person by the bed, holding a plastic spoon and preparing to eat, immediately grew anxious.

Lǐ Hèwēi shook her head.

“You are Chéng Yìngqiū, your paternal cousin.”

“Paternal cousin, so my surname is Chéng?” Lǐ Hèwēi was confused. She currently knew nothing and had to ask questions by following the other person’s lead.

This is bad; she cannot even remember her own surname. Chéng Yìngqiū reached out and pressed the call bell. After receiving a response from the nurse, she turned and said, “Sister, do not scare me.”

Lǐ Hèwēi ignored her. As if suddenly remembering something, she turned abruptly, her gaze locking onto the patient information card behind her. Lǐ Hèwēi, Female, 29 years old.

Instantly, an absurd hypothesis sprang to her mind: she seemed to have transmigrated into the novel her assistant was obsessed with, arriving in this unfamiliar world. Yet, before she could get to the bottom of the reason for her transmigration or what she needed to do, the on-duty nurse hurried into the ward with two doctors.

After a thorough examination, the doctor put away her stethoscope and comforted her: “The results of the CT scan done upon admission showed no problems. The patient is conscious now.” She quickly added, “If you are concerned, you can apply for a transfer to another hospital.”

Pú Chén City People’s Hospital was only a Grade Three, Class B hospital. If specialized checks and further treatment were needed, she should indeed be sent to a higher-level hospital.

“Then why can she not remember anything?” Chéng Yìngqiū asked urgently.

The doctor patiently explained: “There are many reasons for amnesia, such as traumatic brain injury, cranial cerebral damage, or neuropsychological abnormality.” Based on Lǐ Hèwēi’s clinical symptoms, and after careful consideration, she suggested, “To prevent the condition from worsening and causing more severe effects, it is best to see a specialist at a Grade Three, Class A hospital.”

“No need, thank you, Doctor.” Lǐ Hèwēi knew the reason for the abnormal condition displayed by this body and refused without reservation. “I want to rest. Perhaps after a good sleep, I will be back to normal tomorrow.”

The doctor respected the patient’s wishes, had her sign the diagnostic informed consent form, and then left the ward with the nurse.

Chéng Yìngqiū thought it over and said, “No, I must discuss this with them.”

Lǐ Hèwēi stopped her: “Discuss it with whom?”

“Never mind. You do not recognize them anyway.” Chéng Yìngqiū rushed out, grasping her phone.

Lǐ Hèwēi, new to this world, felt helpless and decided to take things one step at a time. During the physical examination, the nurse had already removed the needle from the back of her hand. Now, able to move freely, she explored the ward’s washroom.

Closing the door, Lǐ Hèwēi turned and looked at the distinctly dark-featured face in the washbasin mirror, instantly freezing.

This face was identical to her own in reality: willow eyebrows, deep-set eyes, a high nose, and beautiful lips. She still possessed the look that would make people instinctively keep their distance when she was not smiling. As for her hairstyle, she had disliked her straight black hair as too severe and had gotten a French wave perm, so there was a slight difference there.

Lǐ Hèwēi turned on the tap, scooped up clear water with one hand, and splashed her face. Calming down, she reasoned that a transmigrator should be bound to a system to guide the host toward achieving goals, but she had been here for nearly half an hour with absolutely no sign of one.

She did not even understand the novel’s characters or basic settings, let alone the plot’s development. Survival might be possible, but how could she return to reality?

Perhaps sensing her confusion, a strange, mechanical female voice suddenly sounded in Lǐ Hèwēi’s ear: “Dear Host, due to the novel’s poor ending, the world architecture created by the author cannot be equipped with a system. Please complete the mission on your own.”

“Mission? What mission?”

“Táo Líng.” The off-screen voice hinted at the relevant person without elaborating, and then the sound abruptly stopped.

In the novel, Táo Líng died in the line of duty. Could the mission be to help her defy fate and change her destiny? Lǐ Hèwēi silently pondered, her curiosity about Táo Líng reaching its peak. She stabilized her rising emotions and tossed the wet tissue into the trash bin. Just as she was about to open the door and leave, someone knocked.

“Sister Wēi, are you alright?” Perhaps tinged with caution, the voice was cool, like the morning mist in the mountains.

Not Chéng Yìngqiū, Lǐ Hèwēi speculated: “Táo Líng?”

Táo Líng outside the door quietly hummed in confirmation.

Lǐ Hèwēi reached out and twisted the round lock. Opening the door, she saw Táo Líng up close. In the low-saturation light, Táo Líng wore a white shirt and dark, cropped jeans. She was of medium height, appearing seven or eight centimeters shorter than Lǐ Hèwēi’s 170 cm.

The person in front of her stepped back half a pace, remaining silent, clearly waiting for her to speak first.

“I am fine.” Lǐ Hèwēi unconsciously scrutinized her.

She had delicate eyebrows and clear eyes. Her short hair, cut to her neck, was fine and soft. Her whole demeanor was clean and obedient, and her appearance had the charm of a Sòng Dynasty painting, veiled in cloud mist and distant waters. Yet, deep in her bones, there seemed to be a resilience like wild grass.

The intensity of her direct gaze caused Táo Líng to subtly frown. Lǐ Hèwēi realized her lapse and quickly apologized: “I am sorry.”

Táo Líng seemed slightly uncomfortable: “It is nothing.”

Lǐ Hèwēi suddenly felt a sense of disorientation. Did she and the original host have a poor relationship?

Awkward. Distant.

Before she could think of how to ease the atmosphere, Chéng Yìngqiū, who had finished her phone call in the corridor, happened to enter, breaking the silence: “What are you two doing standing at the doorway?” She motioned for Táo Líng to walk inside. “My sister is not thinking straight right now; please do not mind her.”

“I will not,” Táo Líng followed her steps and sat in the accompanying chair by the bed.

“Aunt Lǐ Yùqióng contacted a hospital in Shǔ Jiāng; we are transferring you tomorrow morning.” Chéng Yìngqiū watched Lǐ Hèwēi lie back down on the bed and, knowing her confusion, pulled out her phone’s photo album to patiently explain.

When she was twenty, Lǐ Yùqióng worked as a bank teller at the Industrial and Commercial Bank, where she met Wú Yǒng, who had brought his younger brother to the county town for work. Because he was an excellent cook and honest, Lǐ Yùqióng quickly accepted his proposal. They dated for half a year before marrying, and their daughter was born the following year; the child took the mother’s surname.

When Lǐ Hèwēi was five, Lǐ Yùqióng introduced her younger schoolmate from the bank, Chéng Zhìjiāo, to Wú Yǒng’s younger brother, Wú Cōng. They did not deliberately push them together, allowing them to develop freely. They hit it off immediately, had their wedding banquet at the end of the year, and Chéng Yìngqiū was born the next year.

Therefore, although Lǐ Hèwēi and Chéng Yìngqiū were paternal cousins, they did not share the same surname.

Chéng Yìngqiū asked, “Sister, do you have any recollection?”

Lǐ Hèwēi listened in a fog, covering her forehead and shaking her head.

“Sister Táo Líng’s parents run a fish stall at the wet market; all the fish for our restaurant is supplied by her family.”

In the late 1990s, the Chéng and Lǐ families pooled their money to take over a storefront, operating a restaurant with only five dining tables. Lǐ Yùqióng was clever, proposing to focus on set menus with a mix of meat and vegetables. Wú Yǒng and Wú Cōng adopted the idea and immediately set about preparing, dedicating themselves to every task, big or small. After the sets were launched, they gained popularity for their generous portions, delicious taste, and affordable price. The restaurant’s business grew exponentially through word of mouth among the neighbors.

Eight years later, with the progress of the times and rapid economic growth, Pú Chén County successfully emerged from poverty and was re-designated as a county-level city, administered on behalf of the provincial capital, Shǔ Jiāng.

People were able to feed themselves and began trying to seek new and unique cuisine to satisfy their appetite.

By then, Lǐ Yùqióng and Chéng Zhìjiāo had been promoted to bank management, earning a generous annual salary and accumulating a significant amount of money. The four of them conferred and rented a 200-square-meter commercial space facing the street in the new city. After renovation, they named it “Hú Zi’s Private Kitchen,” positioning it as a mid-to-high-end restaurant. It won the favor of many customers barely half a month after opening.

Chéng Yìngqiū was parched from talking so much. She turned to rummage through the backpack by her leg, pulling out a bottle of mineral water. As she twisted the cap, her peripheral vision caught the name flashing on Lǐ Hèwēi’s phone screen inside the bag. She quickly pulled it out and handed it to the person on the bed.

“Someone is calling.”

Lǐ Hèwēi held the phone, reading the saved name: Intelligence Hóu Jiāng.

Táo Líng, who had been silent all along, clearly saw her confusion and gently reminded her: “Captain Hóu of the Intelligence and Information Squadron.”