"So we're going to look for it on Commercial Street?"
Old Song wasn't a fool either.
He had now completely abandoned his lazy posture from when he was driving earlier. Both hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his back even slightly hunched—he looked like a giant shrimp.
"Right. There aren't many vans on the island to begin with, so it should be relatively easy to confirm. Though I didn't get a clear look at the license plate number at the time." Zhang Shutong said with regret. He didn't know much about cars either, so right now he could only use the generic term "van" to describe it.
"It'd be a damn miracle if you could remember the license plate number. That wouldn't be called deduction—that'd be called being an accomplice." A hint of a smile finally appeared on Old Song's face. "It's a Jinbei—I forget if the model was a Sea Lion or something else. Shouldn't be too hard to find."
"Actually, there's another angle that proves it," Zhang Shutong said thoughtfully. "Even setting aside the conflicts on Commercial Street, people buy vans to haul goods in the first place, right?"
"You're saying the person runs a supermarket?" Old Song immediately asked.
"Not necessarily. I mean, supermarkets, restaurants—these kinds of places all might need vans. And on the island, the only place where these types of shops are concentrated is Commercial Street."
"Then there's only one last problem—what if they didn't drive it back there?"
"They should have." Zhang Shutong glanced at his phone again. "I was just there last night. Quite a few shops were still open. Most of them are mom-and-pop operations—they can't function without either person, especially places like restaurants. That's why I said we should go now while we can still find it."
"Alright then, I'll drive even faster. Ten minutes at most and we'll be there, guaranteed." The engine's RPMs climbed as he spoke. Old Song really was an excellent driver—in his hands, the little Focus felt like a rally car.
They were currently driving along a mountain road at night. Sometimes when he took the curves too sharply, it took an extra beat just to see the road ahead clearly. Zhang Shutong's heart was pounding—what if Gu Qiumian hadn't even gotten into trouble yet, but he ended up dying here first?
"We're not in that much of a hurry. Slow down a bit..."
"Relax. I've driven faster than this before. If it wasn't raining today, I could go even faster." Now that his train of thought had cleared up, Song Nanshan's mood had improved considerably. "You're pretty capable, kid. I usually see you looking all dazed and confused—how'd you suddenly get so sharp? Did you learn it from Qingyi?"
Zhang Shutong rolled his eyes.
"From him I'd only learn about a man's mission."
Who knew Old Song would grin and say:
"I'd say that's exactly what you're lacking right now."
That profound man from earlier had run off somewhere—like a mega Venusaur suddenly devolving. The man had reverted to his carefree rough-and-tumble self:
"Tell me, is your heart racing? Want your teacher to sing you a song? You can't have something this romantic without a song."
"Romantic?"
Zhang Shutong was genuinely shocked—even more shocked than when he'd seen that black dog get poisoned to death. He thought to himself, what's romantic about this? He was already getting cold. He'd been thinking about the culprit the whole time, and only now realized that his shoulders were basically soaked through. Rainwater was trickling down his neck.
Zhang Shutong did know that some high-end cars had heated seats, but Old Song's Focus clearly didn't qualify.
All he could do was adjust the seat far forward, curl up his legs in front of the air conditioning vent, and hug his shoulders while listening to Song Nanshan spout his philosophy.
"Going to save the girl you love—that's what it's all about. For thousands of years, men's romance has always been like this. It's just that before, you'd be on horseback, and now you're in a car. I'd say the essence hasn't changed at all. Either way, you're rushing forward with your life on the line. What mission, what destiny—you might have blood on you, but to the girl you love, a man's scars are medals of honor. At times like this, whether there's a song doesn't matter anymore. What matters is having a bit of wind."
As he spoke, he rolled down the window, really wanting to be romantic. However, the cold wind poured into the car, making the soaking wet master and disciple pair sneeze violently. Forget romantic—they almost became martyrs.
After a long moment, he finally muttered:
"Looks like you really don't like Gu Qiumian."
Since there was nothing else to do while they were rushing there anyway, Zhang Shutong asked him why he was bringing this up again.
Old Song's answer was simple: because you sneezed.
Zhang Shutong really didn't know what kind of demon Gu Qiumian herself was. Did people who fell for her get blessed with magic powers that made them immune to feeling cold?
Old Song nodded and said that if she really was someone you wanted to protect, you really would have magic powers at a time like this—you wouldn't feel anything. But you don't have that, which is why you sneezed.
Zhang Shutong instinctively felt it was nonsense, but somehow felt there was a bit of logic to it. However, he'd never had this kind of experience in his entire life. Of course, he didn't hope to have it either.
Once, outside the delivery room, would be enough.
But which hospital had drafty windows?
Still, hospitals might not have drafty windows, but there were no walls that didn't have cracks.
"There are no walls in this world without cracks," Old Song suddenly remarked. "Tell me, is that person stupid or bad? Waiting until Gu Qiumian's father isn't home to poison a dog—what's the point of that? Won't they still suffer the consequences afterward? Do they really think these big bosses are so kind and soft-hearted?"
"What if they target Gu Qiumian herself?" Zhang Shutong countered.
"...Then they're neither stupid nor bad—they're mentally ill." Old Song froze. "I figure the worst possibility would be smashing a window, taking advantage of these couple days when no one's home. No major bad stuff, just minor annoyances every day to disgust them. Anything worse than that, like... splashing feces... Actually, my hometown used to have stuff like that way back when, but now where would you even find that stuff? You'd disgust yourself first."
"What if a cornered rabbit bites?"
"If we're being real, it's not impossible. After all, Li Yipeng's situation is rare. There really are people whose whole family depends on the shop, and don't expect the relocation compensation to be that generous either. It's not like it's a valuable storefront in a big city. A lot of shops don't even have proper ownership rights—who knows, they might have been illegally built way back when, and the government just turned a blind eye."
Old Song thought for a moment:
"Now that you mention it, the scope of investigation actually narrows down a bit. It should be someone from a family with worse conditions, the kind that's been pushed to desperation."
Zhang Shutong was just about to analyze this further when he heard Old Song—who seemed to have gotten enlightened today as well—continue:
"You still remember, right? Li Yipeng mentioned today that kid who instigated him also had a grudge against Gu Qiumian's family. Who knows, maybe we'll get an unexpected bonus from this trip."
"Let's find the van first." Zhang Shutong felt that Old Song was an optimist.
"But what if we don't find it tonight? Even if your deduction is flawless, plans can't always keep up with changes."
Old Song suddenly changed tone and became pessimistic, saying earnestly:
"Shutong, just listen to me this time, okay? Really, stop being so stubborn about solving this case. I know I shouldn't discourage you—your teacher is quite gratified actually—but this really isn't something someone your age should be doing.
"Listen to me. In a bit, either we bring Qiumian to your house, or I'll take you two out to have fun. We master and disciple really don't need to lock horns with some Commercial Street. Just get through this weekend and that's a victory. Leave the rest for her dad to worry about."
How could Zhang Shutong not want that?
He actually didn't want to lock horns with any Commercial Street either. Ruoping was still calling him to go celebrate Du Kang's birthday. The first weekend after his regression should have been spent resting well at home, or going out to play with his close friends. Without realizing it, his mindset had become younger. Old Song had mentioned earlier that the Tender Beef Wrapper was really good—actually, Zhang Shutong also wanted to find time to try it. The carefree youth years only lasted a short while. Once you miss them, they never come back.
Technically speaking, it wasn't impossible to take Gu Qiumian off the island to dodge this disaster. But dodging the first day didn't mean dodging the fifteenth. The clues he'd brought back from eight years in the future were just this tiny bit. The so-called regression was gone too. If he didn't seize this opportunity to remove this nail, when would the next chance come?
Should he strike while the iron was hot and resolve it, or leave it there to eventually become a troublesome problem that was awkward whether he dealt with it or not?
He was sometimes quite contradictory. He couldn't stand by when Gu Qiumian died, but he also found it troublesome to constantly be her "flower guardian" because of this.
So it was still best to strike while the iron was hot and resolve it.
He nodded without saying anything more, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
Seeing this, Song Nanshan sighed.
Fortunately, Commercial Street was almost here.