Chapter Sixty-Nine: All I Ask Is to Find Her Body

Listening to the cries of astonishment from the crowd gathered on the bridge, watching their frantic commotion, He Zheyu was certain that Mo Qinghan had truly and irrevocably left him. It felt as if his heart had been hollowed out; his eyes grew instantly wet. With heavy steps, he walked toward the edge of the bridge. Seeing this, Han Mo immediately stepped forward and cleared a path through the crowd. With every step He Zheyu took, the pain in his heart deepened, yet he could not avoid facing it.

When he reached the police cordon, Han Mo leaned in and whispered something to one of the officers, who promptly raised the tape to let He Zheyu pass. He stood there for a moment, dazed, before bending down and slipping under the tape. He approached the edge of the bridge and gazed down at the rushing waters below. At last, the tears he had been holding back spilled over, and a low sob escaped his lips.

Standing behind him, Han Mo saw He Zheyu’s shoulders trembling and knew he must be crying. He did not approach. After a while, He Zheyu took out his phone and dialed a number, his tone commanding as he spoke: “First, arrange for the rescue team to search the Shuahui Bridge immediately. The body must be found. Second, clear out all unnecessary personnel from the area. Third, until the girl’s body is found, this bridge is to remain closed to all traffic.” The person on the other end replied repeatedly, “Yes, yes.”

Soon, the waters beneath Shuahui Bridge were filled with search teams. Where only the sound of flowing water had been heard moments before, the engines of boats now roared in its place.

The crowd on the bridge was dispersed by police, and both ends of the bridge were blocked with metal barricades, bearing a sign: “This bridge is closed until further notice. Reopening time to be determined.”

He Zheyu sat down on the ground nearby, not caring whether it was still wet or puddled with rainwater. The rain had not stopped, though it was now lighter than before. Han Mo appeared with an umbrella from somewhere, opened it, and stood silently at He Zheyu’s side. He Zheyu opened QQ on his phone and tapped on the only contact he had—Poppy.

He looked at the message Mo Qinghan had sent him that afternoon, one he had not had time to read: “The wicker chair on the balcony is very comfortable, especially with the gentle sunlight on me. Come home early, let’s have dinner together tonight. I miss you.”

He pressed his hand to his mouth, staring at the distant streetlights on the bridge as tears once again streamed down his face. His body shook uncontrollably. Han Mo could hear his subdued sobs but dared not interrupt or comfort him; all he could do was keep him company in silence.

Spring in Nan City was always so peculiar. It rained through the night, but by morning a sliver of sunlight peeked out from the east. He Zheyu had spent the entire night sitting there, not closing his eyes for even a moment. Lin Mo, Gu Yan, and Zhang Yu all tried to persuade him to go home and wait for news, but he remained where he was, his gaze fixed on a photo Mo Qinghan had sent to Sanye during a party—a photo of himself, shy yet tinged with a hint of allure.

Around noon, Lin Mo came over and tried to pull He Zheyu up from the ground with force. He Zheyu’s legs had gone completely numb from sitting so long, and he could barely stand. Han Mo quickly stepped in to help support him. At that moment, He Zheyu, like a maddened lion, half-roared, “Let me go, don’t touch me! They’ll find her, they will! I’ll wait here. I don’t even hope she’s alive anymore, but can’t you at least let me have the chance to recover her body?” With that, he broke free from Han Mo and Lin Mo’s grasp, but before he could take a single step, he collapsed in a faint.