Chapter 40 – Unvarnished

Darkness, coldness, and emptiness.

This was an unfinished basement.

The floors and walls were merely coated with cement, supported by square pillars beneath a gray-black ceiling. A single small light bulb dangled from above.

There were no windows in the walls, and the bulb was the only source of light—yet at this moment, the light was off, leaving the surroundings as silent as death.

Creak—

Without warning, the basement door was pushed open. Light from outside instantly flooded in through the small doorway, painting a bright square on the floor.

And within that square of light was the silhouette of a human figure.

The person outside stood there for a long time, silent and unmoving, as if afraid to step into this eerie place—yet something inside seemed to draw them in.

Fingers gripping the handle tightened slightly, veins bulging on the back of the hand. The hand then lifted, unerringly pressing the switch on the wall without fumbling—perhaps this action had been repeated countless times before.

Click.

A crisp sound, and the basement light flickered on.

Warm yellow light filled the entire space.

In the vast, empty basement, only one thing stood out.

A massive, pure-white freezer.

About two meters long and one and a half meters wide, more than enough space for a large adult man.

From the bottom of the freezer extended a white power cord, plugged into a white socket. The intermittent hum of machinery confirmed that the freezer was dutifully running.

In this world, many things happen suddenly and inexplicably.

After laying all my cards on the table, I actually felt much more relaxed and at ease around Qin Yuezhang. Perhaps wearing a mask for too long really does wear a person down.

Back at the campsite, I lay in the stiff, uncomfortable tent, unable to sleep.

Kicking Gu Lanshan out earlier had been the right call—this dim, cramped tent was just the right size for Qin Yuezhang and me. Unbidden, my thoughts drifted back to the two days we’d spent trapped in the wreckage of the train carriage.

What’s more despairing than being trapped in a dire situation? Being trapped in one alone. Awake and lonely, waiting for death, wanting to voice your fear but having no one to listen.

So, in that sense, we were lucky—at least we had each other. “Having each other” is such a beautiful phrase.

Even if it was all fake.

“Can’t sleep either?” Qin Yuezhang’s voice suddenly broke the silence.

I paused, then quietly acknowledged.

In truth, our sleeping bags were so close that our shoulders and arms were nearly touching. I could feel his body heat.

Just like back in the wreckage.

“Do you remember when we were buried under the train debris?”

So he was thinking about it too?

I turned onto my side, putting some distance between us.

“What about it? Is it similar to now?”

“There’s one thing I’ve never quite understood.”

“What is it?”

Now that everything was out in the open, Qin Yuezhang didn’t bother pretending anymore.

“After I held up the weight above us, you escaped first. You were going to leave me behind, weren’t you? I wasn’t wrong, was I?”

I looked up at him, only to find him already watching me.

The bonfire outside was nearly extinguished, its flames dwindling, the light faint. His face in the tent was a blur—I couldn’t make out his expression.

I chuckled softly and answered lazily, “Yeah, I didn’t expect you to notice.”

So he had seen through me all along.

Qin Yuezhang was far more meticulous—and discreet—than I’d imagined.

I continued, “You must have figured it out already—I’m a suspect. Selfish, ungrateful, opportunistic, ruthless… those should be my defining traits.”

I had intended to leave him buried in the wreckage. So what? Was I wrong?

In a situation that dangerous, self-preservation is the most natural instinct.

At the time, I’d used my back to hold up the weight. If I couldn’t free myself, I would’ve been crushed. We were strangers—barely acquainted. Why should I have risked my life to save him?

Even with people I’d been through life and death with, when disaster strikes, everyone fends for themselves.

Was he bringing this up now to settle old scores?

“That’s not it,” Qin Yuezhang said calmly. “A noble man judges actions, not intentions. If judged by intentions alone, there are no flawless people in this world.”

“…Huh?”

I didn’t quite follow.

Seeing my confusion, Qin Yuezhang patiently explained, “My profession is… unusual. I’ve met all kinds of people haunted by their own demons. And I’ve seen plenty who talk a good game but act despicably.”

I had to admit, Qin Yuezhang was well-suited for psychological research—or at least for being a therapist. His voice was deep and pleasant, like the rich tones of a cello I’d once heard on TV, carrying a composed charm as he spun his tale.

“I once met a wealthy man who left his youngest son in a burning building to save a safe instead. He wept and claimed it wasn’t intentional—yet the rings on his fingers gleamed brightly. I’ve also counseled a son who was racked with guilt for not seeing his mother before she passed—only to learn he’d left her in a nursing home and barely visited.”

Were these people tragic? Were they so aggrieved they needed therapy? To me, it all sounded like self-indulgent whining.

The truly suffering don’t have the money for this kind of treatment. Every penny we have goes to more pressing needs—every coin stretched as far as it can go.

A pretty dull story, all in all.

I stifled a yawn, my eyelids growing heavy as I struggled to keep listening.

“Human hearts are complex, human nature cold. That’s something I’ve understood for years. Actually, people in psychological research are more prone to mental illness than most. The deeper you dig, the more powerless you feel. That’s why I was so moved—and shocked—when you, despite planning to abandon me, still… So later, even without you saying it… I knew you wouldn’t hurt Qinzhou…”

His voice grew fainter, the words blurring. The story was dull, but it made for decent white noise.

By the time my consciousness resurfaced, it was already bright outside.

Noise filtered in from outside the tent.

“Why haven’t they come back yet?”

“Could something have happened?”

“Should we wait for them or head back to school first?”

“I don’t know. I’m kind of scared…”

Qin Yuezhang was still sound asleep beside me. I turned onto my side and took a proper look at him—his features were sharp and masculine, yet his lashes were long and delicate, almost girlish. The contrast was strangely harmonious.

Maybe in Snowscape, appearances were warped to some degree. Though his face now perfectly matched the man I’d seen in the interrogation room, these finer details were things I wouldn’t have noticed back then.

A sudden urge struck me—to pluck a couple of his lashes and measure just how long they were.

Quick, do it now!

A voice in my head urged me on. Almost against my will, my hand rose, inching toward Qin Yuezhang’s face.

But before I could touch him, his eyes flew open without warning!

I froze, staring at him awkwardly, unsure whether to lower my hand. I hadn’t actually done anything—there was no reason to feel guilty.

Instead, I let my hand drop to his shoulder and gave it two firm pats. “Time to wake up. Sounds like something’s going on outside—let’s check it out.”

But Qin Yuezhang glanced at my hand, then raised an eyebrow with a faint smirk. “Were you about to grope me just now?”

See, this is why you shouldn’t act on impulse!

I’d rather Qin Yuezhang think I was about to slap him in his sleep than believe I was some creep who sneaks touches while he’s unconscious.

“No, cough! cough!” I covered my mouth, clearing my throat. “You misunderstood. I was just trying to wake you up. Since you’re up, let’s go. I’ll see what’s happening outside first.”

Without another word, I unzipped the tent and bolted outside.

The damp, crisp mountain air hit me all at once—exactly as I remembered it from the depths of my memory.

I took a deep breath, then grabbed a passing student. “Hey, what’s all the commotion about?”

It was a slender young girl, who turned her head and answered softly, “This morning, Professor Wei said he had something to take care of and would be back soon. But he still hasn’t returned, and no one’s seen him.”

Frowning, I double-checked. “Which Professor Wei? Wei Qinzhou?”

“Do we have a second one?” With that, she pulled free of my grip and walked away.

So… Wei Qinzhou had gone missing?

How?

Wasn’t Snowscape supposed to reflect my past memories? But I didn’t remember anything like this happening.