July 19, 1993, 11:00 PM. The lights were still on at Villa No. 6 in the Minghu district of Shenzhen.
In the study, Zhan Lin sat in an executive chair wearing a silk nightgown. She was leafing through a magazine a friend had brought back from the United States while reminiscing about the fashion show she had attended in Paris a few days prior.
Her fashion studio had been dedicated to independent design since 1988, and by now, it had achieved a certain level of recognition in the market. As her fingertips brushed against the thick, high-quality paper of the magazine, she wondered if it was time to launch a bespoke line.
Ring… ring…
The “brick” mobile phone on the sofa suddenly rang, interrupting her thoughts. Zhan Lin set down the magazine and stood up to answer it, but after taking only two steps, her vision went black. Forcing herself to stay upright, she managed to reach the sofa and slumped onto it before picking up the phone.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.”
“Is there a reason you’re calling so late?”
“Do you remember Cen Jin?”
“I don’t,” Zhan Lin replied without a second thought, her right hand pressing firmly against her chest.
“Your seventh-grade desk-mate. Disappeared in August 1970. A week ago, during the demolition of an old guesthouse on the west side of Xinhua Road in Weiyang City, a ledger was found. It’s been verified that Cen Jin hid it there before the disappearance. This morning, Qi Hongcheng went to Tongguanshan Prison to interrogate Zhang Lihe.”
Zhang Lihe? The name rang a bell. Zhan Lin took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart.
“In July 1970, after your father was arrested for ‘personal conduct issues,’ didn’t your grandmother sell a courtyard house in Beijing?” The voice on the other end waited a few seconds for a response. When none came, it continued, “That courtyard house is now registered under the name Wei Junyi.”
The mobile phone slipped against the edge of the sofa and hit the floor with a dull thud. Zhan Lin clutched her chest with both hands, her lips trembling and her face drained of all color. She wanted to call for help, but her fading consciousness made it impossible to even roll over and reach for the phone.
A moment later, the phone on the floor began to ring again.
Ring… ring… ring…