The reminiscence was thus interrupted.
Zhang Shutong thought this came at just the right time—he'd forgotten his deskmate's name anyway, so he'd just introduce himself once they switched to a new one.
It was currently the second class of the afternoon, and there'd be a long break coming up, when they'd normally go down to run laps.
But since there was snow on the field, it was changed to free activities arranged by each class.
Their class switched seats once a month on a fixed schedule. Looking around, some people had already prepared, while others were leisurely closing their homework, just waiting to put it in their bags.
Put that way, he'd become the "last" one to know.
Understanding this in his heart, his hands began busying themselves, though he paused when he glimpsed that scrap paper with the name written on it.
He'd think it over more carefully when he got home tonight—better safe than sorry. He felt around for his Five Years of High School Entrance Exams, Three Years of Mock Tests book and sandwiched it inside, a habit from his personality—safer to carry around than something else for boys their age.
Just as he was about to stuff a whole pile of things into his bag, Zhang Shutong suddenly ran into difficulty.
His bag was already crammed full of test papers, textbooks, exercise books, and folders—various materials from different subjects all mixed together, and he'd long since forgotten how to sort them.
These years he'd lived alone, and people who live alone generally fall into two categories:
Either they live quite sloppily;
Or they manage their lives in perfect order.
Zhang Shutong was the latter, even a bit OCD about it—he absolutely couldn't stand just stuffing things in haphazardly.
Thinking this, he moved toward the bookshelf on one side of the classroom, planning to make do by leaving things here.
The bookshelf was very long, occupying an entire wall, with each student having their own cubby. Every class was equipped with one of these.
The bookshelf itself had nothing to do with Gu Qiumian's family—the school wasn't that shabby—but what was placed on the bookshelf did have something to do with her.
As mentioned before, she'd never really made friends in class and kept distant relationships with everyone, so Miss Gu simply formed her own circle by herself.
She didn't care about others, nor did she like others caring about her. Of course, she wasn't really a terrible personality, so she couldn't do anything too outrageous—at most she was just somewhat independent and unconventional.
For instance, she loved building Lego sets—genuine ones. Those things were ridiculously expensive. As for why Zhang Shutong knew about this hobby, the reason lay right here—
Every class would display a few potted plants to decorate the classroom, placed on the bookshelf—usually pothos and snake plants. Only their class had an extra brick castle on display, one of the pieces from Gu Qiumian's collection.
He still remembered his cubby was right below the castle. That castle was about the size of a washbasin, European style, with a little Lego figure in a dress standing at the entrance.
Concealed among the verdant foliage, it really looked like a princess secluded in the forest. This was the young miss's privilege.
Looking again toward that window seat, the ghost faces on the glass had been layered over who knows how many times, making it impossible to tell what Gu Qiumian had drawn.
She herself seemed to realize this problem too. Furrowing her brow and propping up her face, she stared at it for quite a while. In the end, she was amused by her own grotesque scribbles, so she wiped them clean and continued with her homework, the charm on her hair swaying once as she did.
Zhang Shutong stared at that charm, then turned to look at the quiet classroom. Sometimes the wind roared past, crashing against the windows, making the glass tremble lightly, giving an unreliable feeling.
The outside world was dim, and the fluorescent lights overhead were somewhat yellowed, yet they felt warm.
He didn't know how long it had been since he'd had such a relaxing moment.
But only he knew that in five more days, this reassuring scene would be shattered.
Recalling the details of that murder case—because of Gu Qiumian's special status, he'd heard two versions:
One was that the criminal was short on cash, so they kidnapped her for ransom, but negotiations fell through in the end, leading to tragedy.
There was also a version saying it was an enemy of Father Gu's, that he'd done unconscionable things while making his fortune, and the misfortune fell upon his children. This version circulated more widely, and some people even applauded it.
But Zhang Shutong didn't really believe either. Whether short on cash or seeking revenge, there was no reason to harm Lu Qinglian eight years later.
Since that didn't work, he could only recall the information Du Kang had once leaked to him.
"The murderer from that case back then was never caught. There were testimonies from several fishermen saying that before the incident, they saw someone in the Forbidden Zone..."
Not the clearest lead, but better than nothing.
Once he'd put his things away, he'd pretty much made up his mind.
Of course, there was no need to rush into action immediately.
His sixteen-year-old self had been a lone wolf, harboring an enormous secret, and would definitely have skipped class directly, riding his bike non-stop toward the "Forbidden Zone."
Now was different. To put it bluntly, his personality had become somewhat cold these years, but the facts were what they were:
There were still several days until the incident—being anxious wouldn't help, and besides, reporting to the police was better than going it alone.
Taking a step back, even if he did report to the police, he'd do it after school—half a day wouldn't make a difference.
If life had a main quest line, his main quest should be to properly cherish this second chance at life.
The side quest was to catch the murderer along the way and achieve a "happy ending."
As for getting involved with the two girls or getting close to them for this purpose, Zhang Shutong had no interest in that.
Since they hadn't been particularly close eight years ago, doing it over again would be the same.
At the root of it, he hated trouble. It would be best to solve things in secret rather than arousing anyone's suspicion.
He'd rather spend that free time going fishing with a few close buddies.
Just as he was pondering whether his skills would be rusty after years without touching a rod, the bell for class dismissal rang.
Yawns, complaints, laughter... the originally quiet classroom suddenly erupted with noise.
Students stood up one by one from their seats, figures moving before his eyes, rubber shoe soles making shuffling sounds on the terrazzo floor.
Seeing this scene, he finally felt the world becoming real.
Zhang Shutong also inexplicably wanted to stretch—it was quite magical, as if body memories hidden for years were awakening, bringing his spirits up quite a bit.
If he weren't too young, what he most wanted to do right now was get a driver's license, buy his own car—a used compact would be enough.
Of course it couldn't be too small—he'd need to fit fishing rods and water tanks in the trunk. Then he'd drive around the whole country, seeing all the scenery he'd missed these years.
There were also some regrets he wanted to make up for—not letting his parents worry about him anymore, getting into a better university, and staying in touch with good friends. But he had no intention of deliberately befriending anyone. His view on friendship was that a few good ones were enough.
Speaking of friends, Zhang Shutong wasn't in a rush to reminisce with his close buddies. He wanted to wander around first.
So he left the classroom. Their school was one of the rare four-year programs. He was in Class 1 of Year Four, at the very front of the corridor, right next to the stairwell.
Two people were talking on the stairs.
One was his homeroom teacher, leaning against the railing.
The other was across from the teacher—a girl wearing a blue cloth robe.
The girl had a cool temperament and waist-length hair, sitting on the steps.
Zhang Shutong involuntarily stopped in his tracks.
No wonder—if you'd just bowed before someone's photograph a few hours ago, and now that person appeared alive before you, anyone would stop to look.
The young woman named Lu Qinglian seemed to have just come from outside. Her delicate face was frozen pale, and the hem of her coarse cloth robe was still stained with snow.
Normally when people got cold, their skin would only turn red, but she was already very pale to begin with. At this moment, she was like porcelain reflecting a flawless cold light, even more so set off by the blue robe.
He wasn't the only curious one. More and more students poured into the corridor, many glancing this way.
After all, having a girl who looked like she'd just returned from cultivating immortality outside the classroom, who was also beautiful and mysterious—that was a universal attraction.
But perhaps the sense of distance she gave off was too strong. Not one person dared approach, only whispering among themselves in the distance.
Lu Qinglian seemed completely indifferent, as if the surrounding clamor had nothing to do with her. She focused on her own business, bringing her hands close to her lips and gently breathing on them for warmth.
Zhang Shutong had no such concerns.
Not only did he observe for a while, he also discovered that looking closely, something seemed off:
She'd probably layered several garments underneath. When standing it was fine—the robe was roomy enough, clothes moving with her body, sleeves swaying with the wind. That could be called quite ethereal, really able to pass for an immortal maiden.
But now that she was sitting down, she looked puffy and bulging.
The young woman's graceful figure was hidden within, creating a bit of contrast and dissonance. Rather than an immortal maiden, she looked like a penguin returned from the cultivation world.
Then Zhang Shutong heard the homeroom teacher ask the penguin:
"Finished sweeping snow at the temple?"
"Mm. It was too slippery on the mountain, some places were iced over, so it took a while."
Now he understood.
So she'd just come back from helping at the temple.
Their homeroom teacher was a young male teacher surnamed Song. He was quite nice, and knowing the young woman's family situation was special, he always readily approved her leave requests.
"I told you, coming tomorrow would be fine too. What if you'd fallen? I'll explain things to your grandmother."
"It wasn't her. I wanted to come myself."
The young woman's tone and expression were both bland.
Teacher Song could only smile wryly:
"Then you didn't need to rush so much. Look at you, you ran over here without even changing clothes..."
"I wore them on purpose. It's too cold outside."
As she spoke, the young woman removed her robe, revealing the school uniform jacket underneath.
The conversation was dead.
"...All right then. Warm yourself up for a bit. In a moment, collect yesterday's homework—next period is my class, we'll go over problems."
Teacher Song instructed before leaving.
Lu Qinglian only nodded, folding the robe neatly and stuffing it into her bag, then biting the hair tie and tying her flowing hair into a ponytail.
When she raised her head, their gazes met.
"Thank you." The young woman suddenly spoke.
Thank me for what? Zhang Shutong was puzzled. For sealing a white envelope with five hundred yuan for you recently? Come on, that would really make it a ghost story.
Then a pair of gloves was handed to him.
He held them and looked them over a few times. The design was quite striking—black, with padding at the knuckles, nearly as big as Lu Qinglian's face.
The full name should be outdoor tactical gloves. He'd had a pair once, bought for fishing back in the day.
And this pair looked familiar.
They seemed to be his own.
Nylon material, not like wool—easy to get wet. Must be quite useful for shoveling snow.
Though looking at how her pant legs were wet, the gloves had been wiped clean and well cared for.
He also noticed her hands. Unlike those of peers with delicate skin, those hands were somewhat rough, traces left from physical labor. On her palms and fingers were several cracks from the cold.
Though he completely didn't remember this happening... he nodded:
"No big deal."
"You were looking for me?" Lu Qinglian tilted her head. She added, "I saw you standing there just now."
Zhang Shutong really wanted to correct her statement:
You were clearly the one looking for me.
To be precise, the you from eight years later, who summoned me here with a phone call.
That phone call probably wouldn't happen again, though he didn't feel it was a pity now. After all, the person was still alive.
Actually, Zhang Shutong had nothing he particularly wanted to say to her. Just as he was about to shake his head in denial and leave, he couldn't help but feel fate was rather wondrous.
Eight years later, he'd come to the small island to attend her funeral, and after regressing, though it was by chance, the first person he spoke with was also her.
He suddenly wanted to play the riddler:
"Do you have a phone?"
"No. Why?"
"When you get a phone in the future, remember not to call people in the middle of the night."
The conversation should have ended there, and then he'd cheerfully walk away, leaving her puzzled and pondering, just like he'd pondered the content of that phone call.
Who knew she'd actually think about it seriously:
"A cold joke?"
Saying this, she didn't give him any face, because she didn't even smile.
"Mm... I guess I lack a sense of humor."
Zhang Shutong bit the inside of his cheek and turned to leave.
He really should drag Du Kang over to see what true aloofness looked like.
...
However, what he hadn't yet realized was that shortly after he left, Lu Qinglian also entered the classroom.
The young woman first counted the homework on the desks, then came to the desk of the student named Zhang Shutong and looked around.
"What's wrong, what's wrong?"
Suddenly a young man rushed out impatiently, with a baby face, always grinning.
It was none other than Du Kang.
"Just got back from shoveling snow?" He started making conversation.
"Mm."
"Is it cold outside?"
"A bit."
"Should I help you next time?"
"No need."
No matter what he said, the young woman's tone never fluctuated, or rather was somewhat perfunctory.
She'd originally wanted to wait here for Zhang Shutong to return, but since he and Du Kang were close buddies, telling Du Kang was about the same as telling the person himself, so she explained:
"He's the only one who didn't turn in yesterday's English homework."
She remembered his grades had always been very good, especially in English, and he was the type of guy who had things under control. Not turning in homework was quite rare.
"That, well..." Du Kang's expression became unnatural.
"He didn't do it?"
"Uh..."
So she'd guessed right.
"Then I'll take them over first. Teacher Song needs them for next period."
These words in Du Kang's ears sounded like the young woman's clear voice was pronouncing a death sentence. He hastily said:
"Don't report it, don't! He probably did it, let me look for it first."
The names of people who didn't write their homework would be noted on a sticky note and reported to the homeroom teacher. He'd gotten a demerit for that once.
Other class representatives might be able to show some mercy and be flexible, but Lu Qinglian showed no consideration whatsoever.
And their homeroom teacher had previously stipulated that whoever didn't turn in homework would be on cleaning duty for a week. Though this punishment wasn't major, they had plans after school today that couldn't be delayed by cleaning duty.
That's what you call brotherhood—right now he definitely had to save whoever he could:
"He did half of it last night, and I remember him saying he'd finish it during today's study period. He should have finished it."
Lu Qinglian just found it strange.
Since he hadn't done it, she just wouldn't tell the teacher. Why make it so complicated?
But explaining would cause even more trouble, so she'd wait for him to look.
As for Du Kang, his buddy's bag was right on the desk. There was nothing to be shy about between them—besides, he'd directly borrowed homework to copy plenty of times before.
While searching for the homework, he kept making conversation, not wanting to miss a chance to chat with the girl he had a crush on:
"Guess what we did yesterday?"
"Fishing?"
"Completely correct."
Du Kang snapped his fingers:
"Right at that wasteland to the south, you know the place? I caught five fish, Qingyi caught four. Shutong forgot to bring gloves, and after finally hooking a big one, his hand slipped and both the rod and fish ran away..."
He'd intended to stop there, knowing few girls were interested in fishing, let alone someone as taciturn as Lu Qinglian. He was racking his brains for the next topic when her voice carried a trace of curiosity:
"And then?"
Du Kang felt a bit excited:
"Well, when it got dark we went home. Oh right, do you like eating crucian carp? I'll give you one sometime?"
"No need. I was asking about what happened after his hand slipped."
"Oh, that's pretty interesting too. Then Shutong got so worked up about it that he absolutely had to go back to get a tent. We couldn't talk him out of it. If it hadn't been snowing these past few days and gotten too cold at night, he wouldn't even have finished that half of his homework..."
Lu Qinglian nodded and stopped talking.
So that was it.
She lowered her gaze to look at the cracked wounds on her palm.
That should have been this past Monday.
She and the boy named Zhang Shutong were assigned to carry books together.
The textbooks were stacked in piles, bound with plastic zip ties.
When picking them up, the zip tie scraped across the cut on her hand. She didn't hold them steady and dropped them on the ground.
The boy glanced back:
"How'd that happen."
"It's cold."
"Don't you have gloves at home?"
"Wool ones. Too much trouble when shoveling snow."
"Oh."
He picked up the stack of books from the ground, and the conversation ended there.
When school let out that afternoon, someone walked up to her desk.
Still that boy. He didn't look at anyone, his tone seemingly casual, only staring toward the window:
"Here, take them."
A pair of very flashy-looking gloves was handed over.
The boy added solemnly:
"But don't forget to return them in a couple days. I need to fish."
From the start of the semester until now, their entire conversation seemed to be just these few words.
Lu Qinglian came back from her recollection. At this moment she heard Du Kang muttering in confusion:
"Wait, where's his homework? Doesn't he usually keep it in his bag's inner pocket? Oh right, I saw him carrying a pile of stuff to the bookshelf when class ended. Hold on, I'll go look there."
The final result was naturally successful. Du Kang carefully extracted a blue exercise book—mainly careful not to bump the brick castle on top of the bookshelf.
Then the young man revealed a relieved smile, handing the Five Years of High School Entrance Exams, Three Years of Mock Tests to Lu Qinglian.
"Thanks for the trouble."
"No problem." Watching the young woman leave, Du Kang grinned foolishly.
He'd both helped his buddy avoid cleaning duty and made conversation with Lu Qinglian. Benefiting others and himself—nothing better than this.
Besides, there was an even more exciting matter coming up—
Next period they'd switch seats, and according to what he and Shutong had planned...
Thinking of this, Du Kang left the classroom and found his buddy near the bathroom entrance.
Having achieved success, he couldn't help but clap his buddy's shoulder forcefully:
"Bro, no need to thank me!"