Chapter One Hundred: "Ginger Soup"

The people at the table picked up the ginger soup that had been prepared and began to drink it. No one went to greet Zhang Qinglin and the others at the door. After finishing, they started tidying up the scattered tools on one side of the main hall. Once they were done, they gradually left through a door on the left.

By then, only a middle-aged man and a modestly dressed woman remained inside the hall. The woman had two long braids, a ruddy round face, and a pair of almond-shaped eyes that followed the movement of the porcelain bowl.

After a moment, her almond eyes glanced toward the entrance of the hall. She seemed to sense something and quietly said to the middle-aged man beside her, “Old Fan, what do you think those people over there are here for?”

Fan Ni walked over to her, glanced at the remaining ginger soup in the pot, then looked again at Zhang Qinglin and the others. “I don’t know either. Don’t waste the soup—let them drink it. After you finish tidying up, don’t come back. I’ll call Guangwei and the others to keep watch tonight.”

“And what about them?”

“You don’t need to worry about that. Hurry up and finish tidying,” Fan Ni said while fiddling with some thread in his hand, urging her on.

“Oh, right, Old Fan, the director will be back tomorrow. Remember to give him the materials.”

Fan Ni nodded and walked to the right.

The woman set down four bowls of ginger soup on the table and called out to Zhang Qinglin and the others, “Come over and drink the ginger water. Don’t catch a cold—it’s still hot now. Once it cools, it won’t work.”

Hearing this, Zhang Qinglin and the others got up and walked over, but by the time they reached the table, the woman had already taken the big pot and left.

After finishing the ginger soup, Zhang Qinglin felt a warm glow spreading through his stomach.

“It’s still snowing outside. Make do for tonight. Once the snow stops tomorrow, you should head down the mountain quickly,” Fan Ni said, glancing at the heavy snowfall outside before turning to pack up on the other side.

Zhang Qinglin quickly put down his bowl and hurried to follow him, excitement in his voice: “Are you Director Fan Ni? I came from Beijing. There’s something important I need to ask you.”

Fan Ni’s bent posture froze. Then he straightened up, adjusted his glasses, and with his eyes narrowed into slits said, “You’ve got the wrong person. I’m not Director Fan.”

Wan Qing stared at the man’s profile. According to her information, there was only one person named Fan at the Ancient Building Protection Research Institute.

And that Director Fan Ni was in his fifties, about the same age as this man. How could they not be the same person?

Just as Zhang Qinglin stepped forward to speak, hurried, anxious footsteps came from the door on the left. The woman who had left earlier rushed back into the hall, her face pale and panicked. “Something’s wrong, Old Fan!”

No sooner had she spoken than Zhang Qinglin felt a sudden, sharp pain twisting in his stomach. Clutching his belly, his features contorted, sweat beaded on his forehead. Looking around, he saw others clutching their stomachs in the same way.

Fan Ni looked at them strangely, quickly stepped forward, grabbed Zhang Qinglin’s arm, and helped him to a bench. “What’s wrong with you?”

“My stomach hurts,” Zhang Qinglin said, pressing on the cramping pain.

“Old Fan, Xiao Tian and the others are like this too, shaking all over from the pain. What’s going on?”

Fan Ni glanced over at Wan Qing and the others. “Cai Mei, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Cai Mei replied, eyes wide.

Fan Ni looked down at Zhang Qinglin and felt something was off. His eyes darted to the empty bowls on the table, and his heart jumped. “Did you drink the ginger water?”

Cai Mei was stunned. “I didn’t drink it. I’m allergic to ginger. Are you saying the ginger water was poisoned?”

“I didn’t drink the ginger water either, and neither did you. Look at them—they all drank it. That means the ginger water was drugged.”

Cheng Che’s face turned pale yellow. Suddenly, white foam bubbled from his mouth. His eyes rolled back as he fainted to the ground.

“Cheng Che! Cheng Che!” Zhang Qinglin called anxiously.

Wan Qing’s face turned ghostly pale as she leaned on the table. She tried to rise and help but found herself utterly weak.

Chi Tan was helped to a thick cotton blanket on the floor by Wu Cheng’an.

Seeing this, Wu Cheng’an hurried to Cheng Che’s side, touched his nose, and said, “He’s fine, just fainted.”

Wu Cheng’an himself was rubbing his stomach in pain. He had only drunk half the ginger soup and was feeling better than the others. Frowning, he helped Cheng Che sit up.

Zhang Qinglin sighed with relief, knowing Cheng Che was okay.

Cai Mei was dumbfounded, panicking and stammering, “No, no, I didn’t poison it. I didn’t do it. I made the ginger water, but I didn’t poison it. Why would I? Old Fan, please say something. What should we do now?”

Fan Ni knew it couldn’t have been Cai Mei. He said to her, “Stop standing there. Come help. Watch over them while I go down the mountain to find a doctor.”

Leaning against the wall, Zhang Qinglin watched Fan Ni’s departing figure. His consciousness slowly blurred.

After an unknown length of time, he felt someone pry open his mouth and pour something down. A bitter liquid flowed down his throat into his stomach, sparking a fiery turmoil within.

With a sudden “thud,” Zhang Qinglin sat up. His eyes opened blankly as he looked around the dimly lit room. A stick of sandalwood incense burned in the corner. Wiping the corner of his mouth, he realized he was lying on a kang bed-stove, with Cheng Che and Chi Tan beside him.

“Doctor, how are they?” Fan Ni stood outside, speaking with the doctor. Seeing Zhang Qinglin awake and looking pale, he quickly handed him a basin as Zhang Qinglin vomited.

The doctor entered and instructed, “Administer the medicinal decoction every three hours. Three more doses should do it. If the symptoms are severe, give two more doses. But you’d best wait until the snow stops and go to the county hospital for a thorough check-up. If the poison has damaged the internal organs, it could be serious.”

After the doctor left, Zhang Qinglin gathered his strength and asked, “Mr. Fan, how are my two friends?”

“They’re fine. They have strong constitutions and are no longer in danger. They’re outside helping now.”

Zhang Qinglin glanced at the two lying beside him. Fan Ni continued, “They’ve been given the medicine three or four times. They vomited until exhausted and have now fallen asleep. It seems they’re improving.”

“Mr. Fan, what exactly were we poisoned with?”

“The doctor couldn’t identify the poison, but the symptoms are similar to pesticide poisoning.”

With everyone in the institute except Fan Ni and Cai Mei poisoned, and Cai Mei being a senior member who wouldn’t do such a thing, it was clear that the culprit was someone else...