"Did you two know each other before?"
"How is that possible?" Before Gu Qiumian could speak, Zhang Shutong shook his head. "You're overthinking it, Teacher. I've never seen her before."
Both were kids from the "big city," yet their lifestyles were worlds apart.
Even if they'd visited the same amusement park, it would have been him queuing up at the main entrance while the young lady strolled leisurely through the VIP access—an annual pass wasn't out of the question either.
He recalled how Gu Qiumian used to take her Pokémon crew off the island to play, a convoy of taxis heading majestically toward the largest commercial plaza.
Then stepping onto gleaming marble floors, flanked by dazzling boutiques, with her leading the way while others carried shopping bags large and small. No doubt they'd book an oversized KTV room... As for other entertainment activities, Zhang Shutong's imagination ran dry.
The reason this occurred to him was because he suddenly noticed Gu Qiumian rarely wore the same outfit twice—except for that scarf. Unlike himself, who could make a single coat last an entire week.
So he found the whole situation rather ironic. Here was a wealthy young lady who should be living carefree, yet she was the one being targeted for revenge, the one whose life was in danger. Who could say whether that was happiness or suffering?
"Why do I feel like something's been off between you two from the start?" Old Song persisted.
"Then your feeling is wrong."
Zhang Shutong hadn't realized Old Song was such a gossip. He wanted to roll his eyes but held back, preparing to save that eye-roll for Gu Qiumian to deliver instead. The young lady would surely say irritably, "Oh Teacher, aren't you annoying..."
But that didn't actually happen. Gu Qiumian seemed oblivious to their conversation. It was as if she'd just climbed out of a river of memories, belatedly nodding her chin and saying flatly:
"Mm, we don't know each other."
Then without turning her head, she asked Zhang Shutong:
"I usually live in Deer Lane. Where's your home?"
Zhang Shutong hadn't heard that name before, though it sounded vaguely familiar—probably some famous high-end residential area. Given his family's circumstances, he shouldn't have known it. He named a place roughly on par with "Cozy Home Garden," and sure enough, Gu Qiumian hadn't heard of it either.
"Then it's even less possible," the young lady said decisively.
Old Song's curiosity went unsatisfied. He muttered:
"That's true. It's not like we're on the island—the provincial capital is much bigger than this place..."
But no one echoed him, and the car seemed to fall silent again in an instant.
Right now, Zhang Shutong just wanted to wait until Gu Qiumian got home safely, hear whatever important matter about the girl Old Song wanted to tell him, then go do what needed to be done.
At that moment, the Focus was about to drive onto a mountain road. The road ahead was wide open, with mountains on one side and the lake on the other, indicating they'd left the urban area far behind. Song Nanshan relaxed as he drove here, even turning on the radio and fiddling with stations.
Static crackled through, occasionally mixed with a blurred female voice. The signal must have been poor. After adjusting for quite a while without finding a frequency, he simply told Gu Qiumian to find a disc in the glove box.
Watching the road with one eye and glancing at the glove box with the other, he directed, "Right, it's called 'Poetry of the Day After.' The cover has a really big tree..."
The disc tray whirred open and shut. Guitar strumming filled the air. Song Nanshan didn't forget to introduce it:
"Listening to Mayday should be fine, right? You kids all like their songs..."
Zhang Shutong didn't care either way. Listening quietly to music was nice. The sky had darkened, and at some point, a few drops of water appeared on the windshield. As the car moved forward, the droplets accumulated more and more.
It was raining.
Just like that, without warning.
For some reason, Zhang Shutong felt that coming along might have been the right decision.
The wipers swept lazily across the glass. Yellow candlelight-like headlights illuminated the road ahead. Only singing voices surrounded them in the dim car interior. Perhaps this sudden shower had washed away some kind of pretense, making Zhang Shutong realize that all three people in the car had their own thoughts weighing on them.
He looked out the window, realizing Gu Qiumian had to travel this road every day. The scenery could only be called mediocre.
The car drove through the dim road.
The small car wasn't in great condition. From a future perspective, it was outdated in every way, but even now in 2012, it wasn't particularly new either. Perhaps it had been secondhand before reaching Old Song's hands. Every time they passed bumps and potholes, the chassis would creak and groan. Zhang Shutong was jostled quite roughly—these were things he'd never noticed before.
Only now did he discover that beyond the chassis, the grayish-white fabric interior had yellowed, the ceiling liner was torn in one spot revealing foam, and cracks had appeared in the dashboard's plastic molding. This little car had truly had it rough all these years with Old Song.
But Song Nanshan was just that kind of rough man.
He probably didn't care about these things.
Yet for some reason, there was a Bulbasaur figurine on the dashboard. The Pokémon's belly connected to a metal spring, and it would bob whenever they hit bad road. That figurine should have been the newest thing in the car, well-protected, as if he'd bought it shopping just yesterday, though closer inspection revealed some fading.
The little guy was adorably ugly, with a big mouth and greenish skin. It was said to be the most steadfast and gentle-natured of the three starters. Zhang Shutong had never understood why Old Song kept it in his car before—maybe he drove too recklessly and feared accidents, placing it there hoping to receive Bulbasaur-god's blessing.
But now there was a new answer.
He asked if that frog was bought by Old Song's ex-girlfriend. The man nodded and said yes, then grinned and flicked the garlic turtle:
"Actually, I bought it to give to her as a desk ornament, but then she turned around and glued it in my car. This ugly thing—if it wasn't stuck on so tight, I would've thrown it away ages ago."
Zhang Shutong thought Old Song was quite the tsundere. An old tsundere at that.
Who knew Old Song would suddenly add:
"But once I threw it away, I couldn't buy another one. This is a knockoff. I shouldn't have cheaped out buying a bootleg back then. Look—doesn't this turtle have yellow eyes?"
Zhang Shutong looked closely. A yellow-eyed Bulbasaur was indeed one of a kind.
Unable to smoke in the car, he started rambling:
"It was at that amusement park I just told you about. There was a little stand, twenty yuan each. Anywhere else it would've been five yuan at most. I'd just started work not long before, poor as hell, but figured romance was more important than anything, so I gritted my teeth and bought it.
"Only found out after buying it that her favorite was that yellow mouse, or failing that, the blue turtle would do. She said this frog was the ugliest one after it evolved. I looked it up online, and damn if she wasn't right. I'm telling you, do the game company people have something wrong with their heads? Just draw a cute mascot girls would like—why make a frog this ugly? What did frogs ever do to your whole family..."
At that moment, the radio switched songs. He suddenly stopped talking, as if he'd been waiting a long time. He quieted down to listen intently. Zhang Shutong listened along for a few lines too. The song seemed to be called "Like Smoke."
The small car entered a curve with the music playing. As the front turned, suddenly a van came barreling toward them in the opposite lane, driving fast, with one wheel already over the center line. Zhang Shutong had been watching ahead the whole time. Before he could warn them, Song Nanshan immediately jerked the steering wheel. Even the tires screeched.
The two vehicles barely scraped past each other, but the Focus's right side mirror had already scraped against the mountain face.
"...How the hell do you drive?"
Old Song wanted to curse but, remembering two students were with him, forcibly held back. He didn't dare relax his concentration now, gripping the steering wheel with both hands and slowing down somewhat.
The car's headlights illuminated the slanting rain threads, and through the continued silence, finally illuminated the buildings ahead.