Family members waiting in the rain suddenly grew restless upon hearing the broadcast announcement.
“Didn’t they say we could go home after the contamination tests were done?”
“Why are they suddenly transferring everyone to Tongcheng University? How long will it take before we can see our loved ones?”
“I just saw my daughter a moment ago and even waved at her. She looked fine—why aren’t they letting us take her home?”
The noisy chatter quickly drowned out the broadcast. Someone shouted in protest, “Even if they’re relocating the temporary shelters, they should at least give us a reason and a timeframe!”
One person took the lead, and the chorus of agreement quickly swelled.
As the family members began to stir, the police sensed the situation was spiraling out of control and stepped forward to form a barrier with their bodies.
“Everyone, please stay calm,” a police officer urged. “The specific reasons and timelines will be posted on the official website soon. Please go home for now. Don’t gather in the rain, and be cautious to avoid contamination.”
The police spoke firmly, and after watching for a while in the rain, the families slowly began to disperse, realizing that seeing their relatives today was unlikely.
Song Nanxing and Shen Du also boarded the car. Shen Du removed his soaked raincoat and said wearily, “Let’s head back for now. We’ll wait for the official list to be published on the website. Captain Han should have sent a reply too.”
*****
By the time they got home, it was already evening.
Shen Du didn’t rush to cook. Instead, he first prepared a large bowl of ginger soup.
When he came out of the kitchen carrying the steaming bowl, he saw Song Nanxing standing on the balcony, staring blankly out into the pouring rain, his expression distant and vacant.
Shen Du handed him the bowl and lowered his voice. “Still thinking about your mother? There were too many people today—it’s normal that you didn’t find her.”
Song Nanxing shook his head and unlocked his phone, revealing the blurry screenshot he had shown the police earlier.
He stared at the side profile in the image with drooping eyelashes. After a long pause, he spoke with some difficulty, “The moment I caught a glimpse of her on the news, I was absolutely sure it was my mother. But after I found the screenshot from the broadcast and kept looking at the photo over and over, the person in the picture started to feel more and more unfamiliar…”
His fingers clenched the phone unconsciously, veins standing out clearly on the back of his hand from the strain.
He looked up at Shen Du with a dazed expression, eyes filled with genuine fear and sorrow. “If I really found her, I’m not even sure I could accurately tell if it’s really my mother.”
Compared to never finding her, this vague uncertainty—finding someone but being unable to recognize if it’s her—was more terrifying and harder to accept.
Shen Du sighed softly, cupped Song Nanxing’s cheek, and looked straight into his eyes. With a slow, gentle tone, he said, “Humans tend to rely on their eyes to recognize things. But appearances can change and deceive. You should learn to ignore these uncertain externals and use something deeper and more reliable as your anchor.”
Song Nanxing blinked, confused. “What?”
Shen Du’s face slowly moved closer, his cheek nearly touching Song Nanxing’s neck, his nose almost brushing the sensitive skin. “You can use your nose to smell.”
“You can also use your ears to listen.” Shen Du pulled back slightly, his warm breath brushing past Song Nanxing’s earlobe.
Startled by the sudden closeness of this unfamiliar breath, Song Nanxing blinked rapidly, swallowing nervously, but remained still.
“And your intuition.”
Shen Du fully pulled away, his palm leaving Song Nanxing’s cheek. His gaze was warm and accepting, radiating a calming strength. “After being apart for so long, your eyes might not recognize the person, but your intuition won’t lie to you.”
Song Nanxing stared blankly at him, looking half understanding.
Shen Du smiled faintly and handed him the ginger soup. “Drink this first. Don’t catch a cold. I’ll go make dinner.”
Song Nanxing held the bowl, watching Shen Du’s tall, slender back as he disappeared into the kitchen.
Shen Du was very tall, and the cramped kitchen of less than ten square meters made his movements seem a little constrained.
But he moved with great ease—holding the butcher’s knife in his hand was more like wielding an ancient feather pen, delicately unraveling difficult, archaic text in graceful strokes.
The white woven lamps on the ceiling shone down from above, placing him in a half-shadow, half-light space that was irresistibly captivating.
Song Nanxing fixed his gaze on him for a while, then lowered his eyes and sipped the ginger soup.
The warm, spicy liquid slid down his esophagus, spreading heat to his cheeks—and even his ears seemed to burn.
*****
Later that night, Han Zhi called with a voice that sounded exhausted.
“This is the list of returned missing persons that we just compiled. Some of the individuals with compromised mental states haven’t had their information fully verified yet, so there may be omissions. Take a look yourself. The official list will be released tomorrow. Please don’t spread it.”
Song Nanxing took his laptop and opened the file, scrolling slowly.
The list contained only names and photos but was enough for him to confirm the information.
“Thank you, Captain Han,” Song Nanxing said solemnly.
There was a pause, then Han Zhi’s weary tone softened somewhat. “The police station is overwhelmed, so we were also pulled in to help today. There were many family members at the scene who came with hope but left disappointed. Their emotions are quite fragile. You… would be best not to get your hopes up too high.”
Saying the emotions were fragile was an understatement—the scene was chaotic.
Over the years, so many people had gone missing; the numbers were staggering.
And among those who returned this time, as of tonight, only seven hundred thirty-two individuals.
But the family members who rushed to the site upon hearing the news numbered several times that.
Many had come with great hope but were left devastated, collapsing to their knees in the downpour, wailing in despair.
This was why everyone was working overtime to verify and compile the returned missing persons’ identities as quickly as possible—the sooner the list was published, the less suffering for the waiting families.
But while others still clung to faint hopes, Song Nanxing likely would never find the person he wanted on that list.
“Yeah, I understand.” Song Nanxing replied. After thanking Han Zhi again, he ended the call.
He placed the laptop on his lap and scrutinized the list, not daring to miss a single word.
Half an hour later, he finished going through the entire list.
As expected, his mother’s name was not there—nor was the woman’s photo he glimpsed on the news.
Song Nanxing closed the laptop and let out a long breath.
He kept comforting himself: It’s okay, just be patient a little longer. There are still some people whose information hasn’t been released yet—maybe Mom is among them.
*****
The list of returned missing persons was gradually published.
Song Nanxing kept a close eye on it.
There were reports that more people had come out of the misted area over the past few days, and the authorities kept updating the list promptly.
But despite checking every day, Song Nanxing never found any information related to his mother.
He tried hard to persuade himself to be patient, but still couldn’t avoid feeling a trace of impatience.
The family members of the missing weren’t feeling much better.
The authorities had been updating the list continuously, but all those who returned from the mist zone had been transferred to the temporary shelter at Tongcheng University.
During this period, neither contact nor visits from family were allowed.
At first, the families tolerated it, but as time went on, protests grew louder.
Many conspiracy theories spread like wildfire.
Negative emotions extended like an infectious disease.
Every time Song Nanxing went online to check the latest news about the missing returning, he’d see many family members proposing to go to Tongcheng University and demand answers.
When enough people suggest something, some will act on it.
Three days later, while watching TV, Song Nanxing saw news footage of a large group of family members protesting in front of Tongcheng University.
Because the officials had given no reasonable explanation, emotions ran high.
The crowd gathered in front of the university’s gates almost clashed with the police trying to maintain order.
Because the uproar became too intense, the higher-ups, after discussion, had no choice but to temporarily compromise.
They agreed to allow a batch of people who passed the mental contamination tests and were mentally stable to return home first.
The news footage showed about a hundred returned missing persons being escorted out by the police, one by one reunited with their family.
The scenes of reunion were touching and heart-wrenching.
Song Nanxing watched for a while before turning off the video and checking the newly published list on the official website again, trying to find any information related to his mother.
But still, there was nothing.
If not for the initial news broadcast video still being available online, he would have almost doubted his own memories.
The emotions swelling in his chest grew heavier.
He took a deep breath, stood up, and headed out.
He had to go to Tongcheng University to take a look.
As he opened the door, he ran into Shen Du.
Shen Du studied his expression and said knowingly, “You’re going to Tongcheng University?”
Song Nanxing was a bit surprised but nodded.
Shen Du naturally took out his car keys. “I’ll go with you.”
Song Nanxing had originally not wanted to trouble him, but Shen Du added, “I’m more familiar with Tongcheng University than you are.”
Song Nanxing swallowed his refusal and went downstairs with Shen Du.
When they arrived at the main gate of Tongcheng University, many family members were still gathered there.
The approximately one hundred returned missing persons who had been permitted to go home had just finished registration.
Some hadn’t left yet, hugging their relatives with tears and smiles.
Song Nanxing watched, his gaze tinged with envy.
Shen Du patted his shoulder in comfort.
Song Nanxing smiled back and then went to ask the staff about the situation.
But obviously, many family members had the same idea.
The staff were surrounded, and Song Nanxing couldn’t get through.
He could only glean useful information from others’ questions.
“When will the other missing persons be allowed to go home?”
“They are still under observation. Once it’s confirmed that the returned missing persons are neither dangerous nor contaminated, families will be notified. Please remain patient.”
“But haven’t they repeatedly done mental contamination tests already? Why are they still observing them?”
“That’s a recommendation from the containment center. The large number of returned missing persons this time is abnormal. They believe longer observation is safer.”
Song Nanxing’s expression shifted when he heard the containment center mentioned. He sent a message to Cheng Jianning.
There were just too many troubled family members.
After a long wait, Song Nanxing finally pushed through and asked, “Excuse me, are there any missing persons whose information hasn’t been verified and published yet?”
The staff looked at him oddly, shook their head, and said, “No. No one has come out of the mist zone since two days ago. We’ve published the full list of returned missing persons.”
Song Nanxing’s expression went blank.
He pulled up a photo and showed it to the staff, unwilling to give up. “Is it possible there were omissions? I clearly saw my mother on the news, but her name isn’t on the list…”
The staff glanced at the blurry screenshot and looked at him with a hint of pity. “The photo is only a side profile. All the photos we published are frontal. Maybe you just didn’t recognize her…”
The implication was that the person in the photo only vaguely resembled Song Nanxing’s mother in profile.
Song Nanxing’s arm holding the phone fell limply at his side, his expression stunned.