Chapter 15 – Survivor

“So, Yan Ru just left? Just like that?” Meng Yi’s expression was complicated. It is true what they say: behind every twisted pervert, there is a miserable childhood.

Chen Dahong sighed. “I never saw him again after that. My wife might have seen him; I think she even gave him some money. Even though we didn’t live together, we were still responsible, you know? We supported him financially! That kid was nothing but trouble for our family—we really had no choice!”

After a pause, Chen Dahong asked, “Officer, what exactly did he do?”

Meng Yi said, “He confessed to being the killer in the Rose Murder Case. He has already turned himself in.”

“What?!” Chen Dahong’s vision blurred, his knees gave out, and he nearly fainted. Though he lived in a village, information wasn’t hard to come by these days. He had heard about the shocking Rose Murder Case in Xue City and had even discussed who the killer might be with fellow villagers. But he never dreamed it would be Yan Ru!

It was actually Yan Ru!

The village gossip had come true after all?! Thank goodness the family had already cut ties with him!

Chen Dahong was both terrified and secretly relieved. Still dizzy, he leaned on the table and scrambled to say, “It definitely has nothing to do with me! I have another kid about to start middle school—this has nothing to do with me!”

Meng Yi calmed him down, then explained the purpose of their visit.

Chen Dahong was practically ready to grab his wife’s emergency heart pills. After hearing Meng Yi out, he eagerly pledged his loyalty and distanced himself from the suspect, Yan Ru: “I’ll sign! I’ll absolutely support the police! I’ll turn against my own kin—I’ll sign right now!”

Lu Anchi watched this flustered man and sighed heavily.

I vaguely remember some things.

I used to love eating white glutinous rice cakes—the kind you could find everywhere. White, round, slightly puffed in the middle, sweet and soft, sticky to the touch. Three for just one yuan, the cheapest snack there was.

Suddenly, I thought of my mother.

She was an ordinary rural woman, hardworking and deeply familiar with the cycles of the fields. When I was craving a snack, I’d always pester her to buy me those rice cakes. Unable to resist my nagging, she’d take a bill from the drawer and walk me to the pastry shop.

“Qin Yuezhang, why are you crying?” Yan Ru suddenly leaned in close.

I turned to look at him, smiling, meeting his eyes as I enunciated each word: “Yan Ru, I’m happy.”

“Surviving a near-death experience, crying from joy?”

“Exactly,” I said, sitting up amidst the wreckage and looking him in the eye, my smile deepening uncontrollably. “Isn’t it amazing that we’re together?”

Yan Ru frowned. “Then why are you looking at me like that?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Like your smile hides a knife.”

“Maybe I’m just too happy—my facial muscles are twitching.”

“It is worth celebrating,” Yan Ru nodded in agreement. “But I don’t want to go through it a second time.”

There hadn’t been many passengers in this train car to begin with. Aside from Yan Ru and me, there wasn’t a single living soul left. The massive impact and momentum of the accident had sent everything hurtling forward, so luggage and seats were piled up at the front of the car.

I got up and opened the nearest suitcase, rummaging through it.

Yan Ru looked surprised for a moment but didn’t say anything.

I was lucky—the suitcase had some crackers inside.

“Stop spacing out and start looking for supplies.”

“These are basically relics now,” Yan Ru said, taking the crackers I handed him and stuffing them into his mouth without hesitation. “We’re in an emergency—the families will understand.”

I smiled and didn’t say anything else.

Once we’d eaten our fill, our bellies round and full, we started thinking about what to do next.

The train windows had shattered from the friction, so we didn’t have much trouble climbing out through the broken openings.

Outside, the train tracks stretched endlessly into the distance. Nearby was a small valley, its lush greenery dressing the low hills like a beautiful woman. The accident had happened in such a remote, hard-to-reach place—whether that was fortunate or not, I couldn’t say.

We had two options: wait here for rescue or find our own way out.

Strangely, at least two days had passed since the accident, yet there was no sign of any rescue team.

“Let’s wait two more days. If no one comes, we’ll follow the tracks out ourselves,” I said to Yan Ru.

Yan Ru naturally had no objections.

We walked around the wreckage of the train, growing more horrified with each step. The train had eighteen cars, and not a single one was intact. Our car had merely tipped over and scraped against the mountain and ground, but some cars had been completely destroyed, while others had been propelled by momentum into the rear of the cars ahead, linking together like a grotesque caterpillar.

A ghastly sight.

Yan Ru picked up a steel rod and tapped it against the wreckage as he walked. If anyone beneath the debris was still conscious, they’d respond.

Unfortunately, no one did.

Walking behind Yan Ru, I could see a hint of dejection in his tall, straight posture.

What was there to be dejected about? We survived! Isn’t one’s own life the most precious thing?

Thankfully, the train had plenty of supplies, so we weren’t short on food or water. At first, Yan Ru had some reservations about rummaging through other people’s belongings, but as time passed, he grew more at ease.

Under these circumstances, neither of us was some principled saint who’d rather die than steal.

He even collected important items he found, saying that when the families came, they’d at least have a few mementos of their loved ones—some small comfort.

The weather in Xue City was unpredictable, and the mountains even more so. Together, we used the collapsed side panels of the train to build a makeshift “tent.”

Now, as rain fell in a steady drizzle, the metal above us clattered noisily. The damp earth beneath our feet gave off a rich, earthy scent.

Yan Ru and I each held a piece of bread, sitting on seats we’d dragged out. If you ignored our circumstances, it was actually quite pleasant.

Yan Ru rapped his knuckles against the steel panel. He pitched his voice with theatrical flair, as if reading a verse: “Listening to the rain in a humble shelter, lucky to have a friend by my side.”

I smirked. “Which poet wrote that?”

Yan Ru swallowed his bread. “Just a thought that came to me.”

“Didn’t know you could compose poetry,” I said, glancing up, my thoughts churning. Casually, I asked, “They say extreme experiences can awaken buried memories. Have you remembered anything yet?”

Yan Ru shook his head. “Still nothing.”

Nothing, huh… That’s fine too.

I suddenly thought of the backpack I’d been carrying, the one with The Interpretation of Dreams inside. It was important, I knew—but it didn’t seem meant for me.

So if it was buried in the wreckage, lost forever… then so be it.

I patted his shoulder reassuringly. “It’s fine. Maybe this wasn’t stimulating enough.”

Yan Ru laughed wryly.

As we chatted idly, a faint sound suddenly came from the wreckage behind us.

Tap… tap… tap…

Weak and listless, with long pauses between each tap.

Yan Ru reacted first, tossing aside his bread and springing to his feet. “Someone’s alive!”

I sighed inwardly, then turned to him with an expression mirroring his excitement. “There’s a survivor! That’s great!”

Yan Ru followed the sound and quickly pinpointed the source.

“Right under here,” he said with certainty.

Honestly, whether the person beneath lived or died didn’t interest me at all. In fact, it’d be better if they were dead—less effort for me. But I didn’t want Yan Ru to know what I was thinking.

We braved the rain, grabbed whatever tools we could find, and began clearing the wreckage. Whether it was our luck or theirs, we soon uncovered the steel panel trapping the person beneath.

A weak figure came into view.

The sudden downpour made it hard for her to open her eyes, but her lips parted greedily, drinking in the rain like sweet nectar.

The survivor—pale, exhausted, curled into a tight ball in the cramped space—had been without food or water for who knew how long. One hand still clutched a broken steel rod, mechanically tapping, while the other tightly guarded the backpack in her arms.

Just like when I’d last seen her.

Yes, I’d seen her before.

Qi Youxuan.