Perhaps due to the rain, some shops had closed their doors early today.
Commercial Street ran north to south, and they stopped their vehicle at the northern entrance.
The atmosphere along the way had shifted from the tension of discovering clues, to the intensity of deducing the van's purpose, and then gradually eased. The two occasionally chatted, talking about school matters, laughing and joking, though both knew this was merely a way to relieve their anxiety.
So as the car entered the urban area and the surrounding light gradually brightened, the small vehicle seemed to drive into an even deeper darkness.
Old Song lit cigarette after cigarette, rarely smoking them, just holding them between his fingers. At this point he didn't care that ash would fall on his legs. He'd cough, sigh with frustration and irritation. Zhang Shutong would sometimes lower the window a bit, but the cold wind rushing in would force him to raise it again. The air conditioning sent smoke throughout the car, making everything before them hazy. In the nearly stagnant air of the cabin, both fell silent at the same time.
Occasionally they'd think of more details. He and Song Nanshan would discuss for a few sentences, adding up to just a few sparse words, but there were too few clues to reach any definitive conclusion.
They both knew the real challenge still lay ahead.
The two almost scrambled out of the car doors. Old Song reminded him to take an umbrella, then led the charge into the rain.
Zhang Shutong opened the car door. The moment his foot touched the ground, it splashed up several droplets of water.
He followed close behind, the umbrella in his hand not bothering to open. Strolling leisurely with an umbrella in the rain was a relaxing affair, but if you ran, the umbrella would flip up and the handle would shake—it would only become a burdensome hindrance.
According to the plan they'd worked out not long ago, the two would split up next. Song Nanshan would search for the van while he first made a trip to Hometown Lake Fish Restaurant—covering both bases, so to speak.
The time was approaching eight o'clock.
He ran past shop after shop, stealing glances at vehicles on both sides. The rain blurred one's vision and cast a filter over the light sources on either side—
The streetlights were a dim yellow, the shop signs always lit up with colorful lights. It was the depths of winter, and the dust particles between heaven and earth seemed frozen. Compared to summer rainstorms, the air appeared much cleaner.
Vapor and light and rain mixed together, ultimately kneading the scene before him into a hazy form.
Zhang Shutong traversed through the fine rain threads.
His body, just warmed by the heater's hot air, instantly became ice cold. His shoes and pant legs were almost completely soaked by splashes. He sometimes recalled Old Song's words—if liking someone could make you not even fear the cold, perhaps that was a good thing.
Along the way, Song Nanshan had kept reminding him not to be impulsive. The two weren't police officers; they already lacked proper authority. What they could do was just ask a few questions.
Even if they ultimately found that van smoothly, and traced the van to the culprit, they could only use small tactics—no different from dancing in shackles.
For instance, they could bluff the other party with a few words. If they admitted it, great—they could secretly record it on their phone and hand it over to the police.
But if they refused to admit it, there really weren't many options—nothing more than issuing a few warnings, remembering the person's appearance and identity, and telling Gu Qiumian to be more careful.
Zhang Shutong had anticipated this. This was almost the trickiest situation they'd encountered since the regressions began—
It wasn't like that time in the reed marsh, where the other party's intent was clear and they'd already committed wrongdoing, so the group could stop them on the spot, using somewhat aggressive means without issue. Nor was it like catching the student who smashed the sandcastle, having deduced the time and place in advance, then simply waiting to catch them in the act.
Moreover, there was likely more than one person involved in poisoning the dog.
Zhang Shutong recalled Li Yipeng's mother's words. The worst scenario he could imagine was tracing the van to some shop, with a lit room on the shop's second floor. They'd either hide outside the door to eavesdrop or burst in to investigate, only to find four or five men sitting inside.
What followed wouldn't be a battle of wits or strength—they'd simply be helpless.
There was a philosophical question: if a person commits a crime in the future, is their past self innocent or not? Zhang Shutong found this question incredibly boring. With the situation urgent, he could unhesitatingly choose "guilty"—but the other party had better truly be guilty.
What this meant was: the person who poisoned the dog and the killer who murdered Gu Qiumian had better be one and the same.
But even if that was confirmed, the difficulty didn't lie in convicting anyone, but in how to stop, restrict, or avoid it.
It was like a thorny ball of thread—dangerous, chaotic, leaving one with no way to grasp it.
Take Hometown Lake Fish Restaurant right in front of him, for example—its door was also closed.
Water stains splashed on the gray-white iron rolling shutter door.
A very large raindrop fell before his eyes, exploding on the ground and of course splashing on his face.
Zhang Shutong sighed silently.
Along the way, he'd considered calling to inquire first. Though the effect wouldn't be as good as asking in person—but after trying, this dilemma no longer needed deliberation, because the phone remained unreachable.
Now the only remaining path was also blocked.
His phone didn't vibrate, indicating Old Song had no findings either.
He turned back and ran toward the clothing and hat shop. He'd just established familiarity there last night, so perhaps he could gain something.
The clothing shop owner was an older woman who was quite happy to see him, thinking he'd come to patronize her business again. Yesterday Zhang Shutong had bought a scarf in the shop. Originally he'd felt that playing decoy naturally didn't require anything too expensive, but the solid red scarf was consistently in the upper-middle price range, so he'd had to pay out of pocket.
Now he casually grabbed two raincoats and asked the question he cared about most. Though he inevitably had to be somewhat tactful, it ultimately boiled down to this—
What exactly did the Lake Fish Restaurant owner mean by "that matter" back then, and who was involved in it?
The shop owner's wife knew nothing.
But given that he'd patronized her business two days in a row, Zhang Shutong obtained another piece of information from her.
Quite a few people now knew about the sandcastle incident.
He was initially surprised, then sorted out the circumstances:
Li Yipeng and his mother had returned to Commercial Street in the afternoon.
Li Yipeng's father was usually off the island, leaving only his mother to watch over their shop on the street.
So at noon when the two left school, Li's mother had dragged her son to the supermarket.
That woman had an ostentatious personality to begin with. Moreover, since the target was Gu Qiumian, not only did she not consider it a scandal, she actually cursed and swore about it, not stinting in spreading it around. The merchants and neighbors throughout Commercial Street were more or less the same. When they had free time, many people were happy to come watch the excitement, and Li's mother had even achieved her goal—some people joined in the shared enmity.
The news of Li Yipeng's revenge on Gu Qiumian at school spread just like that.
The clue Zhang Shutong gleaned from this was simply who had cursed the most viciously among those present at the time.
Now the people on Commercial Street could be divided into three factions:
One faction was like the clothing shop owner. Perhaps she bore some resentment toward Gu Qiumian's father's mall, but it only stayed at the level of resentment. She was getting on in years, her husband and son both had jobs—taking a relocation payment and going home to retire wasn't impossible.
One faction was Li Yipeng's family and the Lake Fish Restaurant couple. They held heavy resentment toward the Gu family, already to the point where they habitually cursed a few words even in private. But for various reasons, they didn't want to completely tear off the facade, stopping at the "enemy" level.
The last faction was the group that poisoned the dog, or rather, call them the culprit. As Old Song had said, their lives had been pushed to the brink, directly taking action from "enemy" and crossing over to the "revenge" stage, willing to risk mutual destruction.
The good news was that this last faction was ultimately in the minority.
The bad news was that who exactly they were, even the merchants on this street didn't know. They hid underwater. This kind of thing could easily leak if one wasn't careful, so naturally no one went around telling everyone "I'm going to take revenge on Gu Jianhong's entire family." Usually they'd just disguise themselves as the second faction.
Zhang Shutong gave his thanks and turned to plunge back into the rain.
The raincoat wrapped around his entire body, his nasal cavity filled with the scent of cheap plastic. He'd originally thought wearing a raincoat would make things better, but in reality his whole body was already soaked through. The plastic sheet clung tightly to him, and with the rain beating down solidly, the cold was even worse.
Zhang Shutong wiped the water from his face and was about to go find Old Song to regroup.
Just then, his phone suddenly rang.