Chapter 20 — When the Spider Plant Turned Black

The police officer immediately gestured for me not to interrupt. I asked, "Didn't she run away?" Chen Nian replied, "We didn't meet her, only her son. He said we had to leave the flowers with him to handle, and he would figure out the rest."

"What is her son's name?"

"I don't know."

"Where did you meet?"

Chen Nian said with irritation, "At the scrap yard behind the old neighborhood." The police officer stood up and walked outside. I continued asking, "Are the two of you still there?"

"My mother is feeling unwell, so I am taking her to the clinic."

"Which clinic?"

"Why are you asking so many questions?"

He suddenly realized something was amiss.

"Ha Vu, is someone next to you?"

The phone clicked shut. The police immediately dispatched officers to the scrap yard in the old neighborhood. My mother and I followed them, but we were told to wait outside. The northern old neighborhood of the city was dilapidated. Low-hanging power lines ran along the streets, and storefront signs overlapped haphazardly. The scrap yard was located deep within a narrow alley, its iron gate half-open, the interior piled high with cardboard boxes, old electronic appliances, and rusted iron frames. By the time we arrived, the police were already inside. Not long after, a tall, gaunt man was escorted out. He wore a gray jacket, his hands stained with dirt. At a single glance, I recognized the dark greenish-green leaf residue wedged beneath his fingernails. The young police officer asked, "Where is the spider plant pot from just now?" The man lowered his head.

"What spider plant? I don't know."

Another police officer dragged a tattered sack out from the house. As the mouth of the bag was opened, it was filled entirely with shredded leaves and chopped-up vines. My heart turned ice cold. Mother supported me.

"Where are the roots? Where is the flowerpot?"

The man stubbornly refused to confess. The police ransacked the scrap yard, finding only shredded leaves and a patch of damp soil. The flowerpot had vanished, and not a trace of the roots could be found. The skinny man insisted that he merely worked as a scrap collector, that someone had thrown the sack at his doorstep, and that he had no idea who it was. It was not until the police pulled a courier receipt from his pants pocket that things changed. The sender was listed as Lieu Xuan Ha. But the recipient's address caused my entire body to freeze solid. It was not in another province. Rather, it was a private cold storage facility located right next to the city's maternity hospital. The cargo description contained only four words: Old soil sample. My mother grabbed my hand.

"Why would she mail soil to a place next to the hospital?"

The police officer's expression darkened. I suddenly recalled those test reports with the names blackened out. I remembered the text message on my mother-in-law's phone: *The groom's family must also cooperate.* At that exact moment, the young police officer's phone rang. He listened for a few moments, his expression shifting dramatically. Hanging up, he looked straight at me.

"Ha Vu, you need to mentally prepare yourself."

My throat felt bone-dry.

"Prepare myself for what?"

He said, "At the private cold storage facility, they just found a thermal insulation box. Inside, besides the soil and spider plant roots, there were several unregistered blood samples." He paused briefly.

"One of the tubes had your name written on the label."

I stood silently at the entrance of the scrap yard, the sound of iron roofing sheets clanging loudly in the wind filling my ears. After hearing the young officer's words, I remained stunned and speechless for a long while. My mother held my hand tightly, her fingers as freezing cold as if they had just been pulled from a bucket of ice water.

"How could a blood sample end up in a place like that?"

She asked, her voice very soft yet trembling with every single word. The police officer did not answer immediately.

"We are still verifying the source, so please do not jump to conclusions just yet."

I let out a bitter, mocking laugh.

"My name is plastered right there on the blood sample, and you tell me we cannot draw conclusions yet?"

He glanced at me, his tone softening slightly.

"Ha Vu, I know it is very difficult for you to accept the truth right now, but we must follow proper procedure."

Inside the scrap yard, the emaciated man was still playing dumb.