Chapter 96: The Cold White Robe

Yu Dazhang would rather risk charging forward than take on a case like this.

This sense of helplessness made him feel suffocated.

Being unable to afford treatment is helplessness.

Hospitals aren’t charities—that’s helplessness too.

This isn’t an isolated case; every day, someone endures this helplessness.

After soothing the little girl until she fell asleep again, Yu Dazhang stepped out of the ward.

From start to finish, Liu Ying never put down the photo frame.

Inside the frame was a family photo of Liu Ying and her parents.

In the photo, she was held in her parents’ arms, all three smiling with happiness and sweetness.

Outside, Yu Dazhang sat down on a bench in the corridor.

He wanted to smoke… his mood was terrible, so much so that he craved a cigarette to ease it.

About half an hour later, Ma Jian called.

“No records found. Their check-in information isn’t in the network system.”

“Did you check the earlier records?” Yu Dazhang asked.

“Checked,” Ma Jian said quickly:

“I looked through the past month. They definitely didn’t register in Songhai.”

“Then where did they stay?” This question was directed at Ma Jian—and at himself.

They probably stayed at one of those small inns.

In 2014, Songhai had many small inns where you didn’t need an ID to check in, but the conditions were terrible.

No windows, damp and moldy, reeking of decay.

Anyone with weak health could suffocate inside.

Another possibility: they stayed in the park.

With Songhai’s current temperature, sleeping in the park is better than those inns—at least you can breathe fresh air.

But there’s one downside: it’s hard on the back.

Park benches aren’t easy to sleep on—try it for a night if you don’t believe me.

“What if…” Ma Jian hesitated, “we go look for them in those small inns?”

“No,” Yu Dazhang immediately dismissed it:

“Too much work. We two can’t handle it.”

Not even counting all of Songhai—just the Hongkou District has hundreds of small inns. Even if we ran our legs off, we couldn’t check them all.

The case is too minor; requesting a citywide police sweep won’t get approved.

“If you’re going to deploy police to search, what’s the point of having you two?!” A superior could shut them down with just that one sentence.

“Understood.” Yu Dazhang had no other options.

Cases like this can’t be solved by rushing.

If it doesn’t work in the short term, let it rest a bit—he didn’t believe the couple would never return home.

Tomorrow, coordinate with the local police station near their residence and keep a closer watch.

If they come back, detain them.

For now, that’s all we can do. Keep stakeout here—if they show up at the hospital, it’ll be easier.

Block both sides; many cases are solved simply by waiting.

Yu Dazhang stayed at the hospital until ten p.m., when a nurse told him he had to leave.

The inpatient ward locks its gates at ten p.m. and no visitors are allowed.

This is only a private hospital—they’re a bit more lenient with timing.

At public hospitals, entry and exit usually stop by eight or nine p.m.

Over the next two days, Yu Dazhang went to the Mental Health Service Center for counseling in the morning, then returned to the hospital to keep watch.

He didn’t find the missing couple, but he grew closer to Liu Ying.

The little girl was very well-behaved—when she was in terrible pain, she always clenched her teeth and never showed it in front of Yu Dazhang.

The more she did this, the more agitated Yu Dazhang became.

He had a feeling Liu Ying’s parents were nearby—they never intended to abandon their daughter. Perhaps they only pretended to abandon her to give her a chance at life.

Over these two days, he’d learned more about Liu Ying’s condition.

Liu Ying had pediatric encephalitis—a severe form.

It has high mortality and disability rates, making it one of the major diseases for children.

On the third night Yu Dazhang arrived at the hospital, Liu Ying’s condition suddenly worsened—she developed a persistent high fever.

He expected the doctors to act quickly, but no medical staff appeared.

When he asked at the nurse station, he learned the hospital had no intention of continuing treatment.

“So you’re just stopping treatment in this situation?” Yu Dazhang asked the female nurse who had filed the original report.

His tone was urgent, but his eyes were calm.

Hospitals should have regulations and procedures for treating abandoned children—even private ones.

He wasn’t guessing—he’d handled similar cases in his past life.

Please... collect 6...9...books....!

“Please don’t interfere with our work,” the nurse replied impatiently, dismissively:

“Even if we continue treatment, we must follow the rules for patients with unpaid bills.”

Such a cold gaze… Yu Dazhang felt a chill run through him.

If someone works in this field daily, they might become numb.

But numbness isn’t the same as coldness.

Numbness means being insensitive, slow to react.

Coldness means complete indifference.

How could a female nurse become so indifferent to life? Is that normal?

Even a police officer like himself couldn’t do this… Yu Dazhang suddenly realized that compared to this nurse, he felt like a helpless little rabbit.

“The child has a high fever—at least you should give her something to reduce it.”

Yu Dazhang couldn’t stand by and ignore life.

This wasn’t meddling—it was human instinct.

“Officer, do you understand pathology? Do you know what it means to treat symptoms appropriately?”

The nurse’s tone grew sharper, even cruel:

“Who takes responsibility if you give the wrong medicine? High fever has many causes—it’s not solved by just giving a fever reducer.”

If the wrong medicine is used, who bears the responsibility? High fever has many causes—it cannot be solved simply by administering a fever-reducing drug.

But hearing it from her at this moment made Yu Dazhang feel something was off.

He knew nothing about medicine, but he at least knew you couldn’t let a child keep burning with fever.

Especially not a six-year-old.

Before he could speak again, the nurse’s face hardened:

“Please stop interfering with our work.”

Then she turned away, ignoring Yu Dazhang completely.

Is it my heart that’s too soft… or is your hospital made of stone?… Yu Dazhang looked at the luxurious pediatric ward and shivered.

Seeing she had dismissed him, he could only leave.

He sat on the bench in the corridor, his chest heavy as if a stone had been placed there, pressing down with unbearable weight.

Ma Jian walked over at that moment.

“Dazhang, I’ve eaten. Your turn.”

They’d been taking turns eating so someone was always watching the ward.

“Oh, okay,” Yu Dazhang muttered.

Outside the hospital, he found a random noodle shop and ordered a bowl of clear broth noodles.

Normally, he’d be starving by now—but today, staring at the steaming noodles, he had no appetite.

It wasn’t just his heart that felt clogged—he realized his throat was blocked too.

As he stared blankly at the noodles, his phone rang in his pocket.

The moment he answered, Qu Tuotuo’s voice came through:

“Can’t you ever call me first?”

(End of chapter)

(End of chapter)