Chapter 10 – Incident

Do you know what it feels like to be abandoned and then abandoned again?

Have you ever experienced the helplessness of watching your mother lie in a pool of blood while no one is willing to even call 120 for help?

Have you ever tasted the bitterness of being adopted and then discarded for no reason?

Have you ever felt what it’s like to be cornered in a bathroom, beaten, and have your head shoved into a urinal?

Have you ever endured the humiliation of being unable to find a job, hitting walls everywhere, and facing disdain and discrimination?

Have you ever been terrified of filling in your father’s name in the family relationship section of a form?

Have you ever been unjustly accused of theft on a train, had your pockets and bags rifled through until they were a tangled mess, and then had to kneel on the ground, picking up the shattered fragments of your dignity piece by piece?

Yan Ru once hated his father deeply.

That damned murderer, that damned murderer who had dragged him down with him.

Why?

He had done nothing wrong, absolutely nothing. But it was Yan Ru who paid for Yan Ande’s sins, piece by piece, each moment bleeding into the next without mercy.

When Yan Ande committed murder, Yan Ru was only seven years old.

On the day Yan Ande was sentenced, Yan Ru was sentenced too.

He was socially dead, branded as the “murderer’s son,” someone everyone scorned and avoided. He hadn’t changed at all—he was still the same person. So why did the kids who played with him in the morning avoid him with looks of disgust in the afternoon?

Yan Ru had reflected countless times, wondering if he had truly done something wrong.

They say a son shouldn’t pay for his father’s sins unless he’s also enjoyed the benefits they brought. But Yan Ande had given Yan Ru nothing to enjoy.

In countless sleepless nights, Yan Ru gritted his teeth in hatred, cursing and condemning that man who had long gone to hell more bitterly than anyone else in the world.

If he was so incompetent, why had he brought him into this world? If he had a wife and child, why did he go out and do those disgusting, despicable things? Or had he never even considered the lives of his wife and child?

A long, long time later, Yan Ru finally accepted his fate.

This was how it should be. Perhaps he didn’t belong to himself but was instead Yan Ande’s stand-in, left in this world to atone for his sins.

Wasn’t the only “benefit” Yan Ande had left him this body and blood?

Yan Ru’s very life was his original sin.

“We’re here already? That fast?” Gu Lanshan hurried back from the restroom, water droplets still dripping down his face. It looked like he had just splashed water on his face at the sink.

I said, “Fast? It’s been a day and a half for this short distance, and you still think it’s fast?”

Gu Lanshan’s eyes flickered as he scratched the back of his head, awkwardly saying, “Well… I didn’t expect that… Ah! Yan Ru, do you want to go together?”

Yan Ru, suddenly called out, looked at Gu Lanshan in confusion. “What?”

I frowned, feeling something was off. This Gu Lanshan—how did washing his face make him so familiar with Yan Ru?

Gu Lanshan also realized his abruptness and turned to grab his backpack, then said to us, “I just think the few of us hit it off. How about we go back to Xue City together and exchange contact info? We can grab drinks sometime.”

He looked at Yan Ru with earnest expectation.

Sharing a train compartment counts as hitting it off? His idea of “hitting it off” sure comes easily.

Yan Ru’s refined face wore a faint smile. “Of course, but I’ve already promised to go with Qin Yuezhang.”

“Him?” Gu Lanshan tilted his head and glanced at me, a strange amusement in his eyes. He even winked at me with his left eye. “Qin Gu—cough—Qin Yuezhang definitely wouldn’t mind bringing me along, right?”

I would.

I wasn’t even close to him.

I said, “Of course, you can come.”

The aisle was already crowded with passengers packing their luggage, all waiting eagerly for the doors to open.

Yan Ru pulled his woven bag from under the bed and neatly rearranged his women’s clothing merchandise to make it easier to carry out.

I lowered my gaze and noticed for the first time how beautiful his hands were—well-proportioned, with slender fingers and faintly visible veins when he exerted force.

“Let me help you!” Gu Lanshan eagerly stepped forward, scrambling to assist Yan Ru with the bag.

I stood to the side, silently watching, neither speaking nor offering help.

Suddenly, Gu Lanshan said casually, “Yan Ru, I’m really curious about where that thief hid the stuff.”

Yan Ru’s hand paused. In a low voice, he said, “There was no thief. The owner was committing insurance fraud.”

“Huh?” Gu Lanshan looked up abruptly, momentarily confused. “No thief?”

I said idly, “You weren’t feeling well and went to the restroom. Earlier, the attendant told us that Ms. Xu never lost anything. She bought high-value property insurance and was trying to scam the company.”

Gu Lanshan murmured something under his breath. I only caught one phrase: “That’s so… unreasonable.”

“What?” Yan Ru hadn’t heard him either.

Gu Lanshan shook his head. “Nothing. I was just saying it’d be hard to hide anything on a train. How could so many people fail to find it?”

They finished packing the torn woven bag and tied it up. Once done, Gu Lanshan paused and added, “So, if you really wanted to hide something, where do you think would be the safest?”

Though Gu Lanshan said “what do you think,” his eyes were fixed on Yan Ru, clearly uninterested in my answer.

I rushed to answer anyway, “If I were hiding something, I’d put it in a place people see all the time but would never think of.”

I would be looking forward to seeing their faces when they learned the truth! Those foolish, ridiculous expressions would be priceless.

Yan Ru said, “If it’s something precious to me, I’d hide it where no one could find or see it, somewhere only I could guard.”

Gu Lanshan nodded as if enlightened. “Like where?”

Yan Ru fell silent for a moment. “I haven’t encountered anything I cherish enough yet, so I can’t think of a place.”

Gu Lanshan opened his mouth to ask more, but I found him unbearably annoying and grabbed his arm. “The train has stopped. We should get off.”

The more Gu Lanshan asked, the more irritable I felt, and beneath it all was an unease I couldn’t explain.

The train slowed further, and the platform and corridors came into clear view. Once it stopped completely, the doors would open.

We planned to wait until others had disembarked since this was the final stop and the train would stay longer. But after a long wait, the doors still hadn’t opened.

What was going on?

The end of the carriage was already packed with people. I gave Yan Ru a look, signaling I’d check it out. But as soon as I stepped into the aisle—

BANG—SCREECH!

A violent jolt caught me off guard. My feet slipped, and my head slammed into the metal railing of the bunk bed with a loud thud.

“Qin Yuezhang!” Yan Ru was the first to rush over and steady me, his concern unmistakably genuine. “Are you okay?”

I suddenly remembered my first impression of Yan Ru—aloof and lonely, sitting alone by the dining car, his gaze cold and guarded. When I tried to talk to him, he barely responded.

In just one day, the way he looked at me had changed completely.

Was it because I was the first person to show him kindness after his memory loss? Or because I stood up for him when someone wanted to search his bag?

Whatever the reason, I felt an inexplicable joy.

The only downside was how embarrassing the situation was. I waved my hand awkwardly, my head ringing, but I stubbornly insisted, “Just a bump, just a bump.”

Hiss—but it really hurt.

I curled my toes in secret.

And then came something even more shocking.

After the jolt, instead of opening the doors, the train started moving again!

“What’s happening? We haven’t gotten off yet!”

“Oof! That knocked me right over!”

“Let us off!”

Bang bang bang! “Open the door!”

The sound of pounding came from the end of the carriage, but it didn’t stop the train from picking up speed.

We were all stunned.

The carriage erupted into chaos—curses, questions, banging on windows and doors, even speculation that the driver had been hijacked. It was like pouring boiling oil into an anthill.

Outside the window, the scenery raced backward as Xue City’s platform faded into the distance. Rain began to fall, droplets streaking diagonally across the glass like elongated, twisted corpses under the high speed and wind.

The view outside became a blur.

Moving forward without a destination was the most unsettling thing, especially at such speed. Panic and fear spread through the carriage.

What had happened to this train? Where was it taking us? And… would it stop safely?

“What do we do? There’s not a single attendant in sight. We don’t even know what’s going on,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Yan Ru’s thick brows furrowed low. He gripped my shoulder and said, “Don’t panic yet. Right now, both ends are blocked, and even the attendants can’t get through.”

Strangely, though Yan Ru’s voice wasn’t loud, it had a calming effect, as if it carried some inexplicable power.

But the calmest person in sight was actually Gu Lanshan.

He had even sat back down, legs spread, hands resting on his knees, completely unfazed—as if unshaken even if Mount Tai collapsed in front of him. There was even a faint smile on his face. “Sit tight for now. What’s the point of panicking? Young people, don’t be reckless. Learn to keep your cool!”

This was the same man who had tried to leave the carriage earlier, argued with Xu Anran after being stopped, and hadn’t acted this way at all.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm down.

He was right. Without knowing the cause, panicking wouldn’t help.