SES Chapter 121 Part 2

Mu Dai straightened, thinking for a long while. Finally, she said, “There are some things I can accept. You don’t have to worry about me too much.”

“You being able to accept it is one thing,” Luo Ren replied. “But my worry is another. After all, even if I’ve got pretty girls all over the world, I still only have one girlfriend.”

That made her laugh out loud. After a pause, she added, “Ma Tuwen said he hasn’t found much yet, but he gave me a name and an address.”

She nodded toward the coffee table, where a slip of paper was tucked under a cup.

Luo Ren picked it up.

The name: Ding Guohua. Address: Nantian.

He looked back at Mu Dai.

“He’s retired now,” she explained, “but more than twenty years ago, he was a doctor at Nantian Hospital.”

The past is never fully buried. An era leaves shared memories. Twenty years could be both long and short.

People in Nantian still remembered the old, pitch-black, square building—and the flashy, provocative woman who’d lived there. In those days, a woman like her clashed with everything society expected. She became the example mothers used to warn their daughters: Don’t you dare turn out like her…

Someone even recalled seeing Dr. Ding Guohua being grabbed at the hospital gate by that very woman—her hair in disarray, tugging at his sleeve. “Dr. Ding, please do something. You’re the chief doctor. What illness can’t you cure?”

Such wishful thinking. To a terminal disease, every doctor is met with a bitter laugh.

Judging from the timeline, she must have already known she was terminal.

Luo Ren studied the address again. “So, we go find him?”

Mu Dai asked softly, “Do you think he’d still remember my mom?”

Luo Ren hesitated. “I’m not a doctor. Doctors see too many deaths—I don’t know if they remember every patient’s face. But twenty years ago, AIDS cases were still rare…”

At that, his heart gave a sudden jolt.

Mu Dai noticed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nowadays, we think of AIDS as nothing unusual,” Luo Ren said. “But twenty years ago, it was different.”

Earlier, to reassure Mu Dai, he’d researched the history of AIDS in China. The first domestic case was reported in 1989. By mid-1998, Qinghai Province had reported infections, marking the spread across every province.

“Twenty years ago—before 1998—your mother’s case might have been the province’s first. Or at least one of the very first. In those days, even if they didn’t quarantine her, the case should have been flagged. The local health department ought to have records.”

Instead of rushing to Ding Guohua, Luo Ren pulled up the Nantian Health Bureau’s website, checked its list of past directors, and zeroed in on a retired one named Ma Quan.

The timeline matched. His tenure covered that period twenty years ago.

Mu Dai insisted on coming along, tugging on a hat and slipping a mask over her face.

It pained Luo Ren to see her like this—she’d been through so much undeserved trouble lately. But sometimes, people have to endure one trial before they can withstand the next, harsher one.

Ma Quan wasn’t home. His family said he’d gone to the “Old Cadres’ Home” to play chess.

They found him there, a gray-haired old man cheerfully fanning himself while watching others play.

Luo Ren walked right up. “Director Ma, may I ask you some professional questions?”

Ma Quan’s face lit up. Nobody had called him “Director” since retirement, much less asked for professional advice. Clearly, this young man showed respect for his authority. He pulled over a stool. “Sit, sit. Let’s talk.”

In the back room, tiles clattered from a mahjong game.

Mu Dai stood beside Luo Ren. When Ma Quan glanced at her, she quickly faked a heavy sneeze.

Ah, no wonder the mask. Ma Quan nodded knowingly—she had a cold.

He answered Luo Ren’s question. “AIDS? We never studied that in detail. Of course, we followed all orders from above. Prevention and publicity—we did everything by the book.”

Luo Ren carefully mentioned a case from twenty years ago.

Ma Quan’s eyes widened. “Impossible.”

He explained, “Back then, people weren’t very educated. Rumors would spread at the first sign of panic. Same as with SARS. The government reported daily numbers by city, but even in places with zero cases, people swore there were. Like in Nantian, people said someone got taken away by ambulance first thing in the morning. Total nonsense. That’s why we always told people: trust the authorities, don’t fall for rumors.”

His speech flowed smoothly. Clearly, he’d given plenty of reports like this in his day.

“You’re certain there wasn’t a case back then?” Luo Ren pressed.

“If there had been,” Ma Quan said, fanning himself, “do you think the hospital wouldn’t have reported it? Where’d you hear this?”

Where indeed? Luo Ren didn’t know what to say.

When they left, Mu Dai whispered, “I’m such an idiot.”

Where had she heard it? From an old woman selling spicy skewers near the site of the old hospital. She’d believed it, been terrified, even cried, and called Aunt Hong in a panic.

Luo Ren tugged her mask down, revealing her flushed red face—like a little tomato.

She muttered, “Hopelessly stupid.”

He laughed. “If you know you’re stupid, that makes you smart.”

Just then, the factory next door let out. The bell rang, the gates opened, and bicycles and scooters streamed out.

Luo Ren pulled Mu Dai to the side. As they stepped away, a cheery voice called out: “Hey, young man!”

They turned—a woman with a broad smile and bright eyes.

Luo Ren didn’t react at first.

“You’ve been to my house,” she said. “Remember? I’m Wu, the one you drove to.”

Then she glanced at Mu Dai. “Is this your friend?”

It clicked—Wu Yuping!

Mu Dai stiffened, instinctively trying to pull up her mask.

Wu Yuping kept chatting, oblivious. “What a coincidence, seeing you here. I knew you looked familiar. Took me a while to place you—my memory’s not what it used to be.”

Something about this felt… off.

Luo Ren looked at Wu Yuping, a thought sparking. He gripped Mu Dai’s arm, stopping her from hiding her face, and pushed her gently forward.

“You mean you don’t recognize her?”

Wu Yuping studied Mu Dai, then chuckled. “Why would I know her? I’ve never seen her before.”