Chapter 12 – Sharing a Grave

“You’re saying we should use the Blizzard System to locate the victim’s remains?” Lu Anchi slightly furrowed his brows, his gaze serious and profound, as if considering the feasibility of Meng Yi’s proposal.

Meng Yi nodded vigorously: “Yes! Weiyao Technology’s Blizzard System can manipulate dreams. I don’t believe Yan Ru is so formidable that he can keep his mouth shut even in a dream.”

“It’s not that simple.” Lu Anchi’s voice was slightly hoarse, but his fingers tapped the air excitedly. “First of all, the Blizzard System is extremely expensive, and it’s uncertain whether Weiyao Technology would be willing to support us. I have some connections with Weiyao’s researchers and have heard about this system. Blizzard doesn’t actually manipulate dreams—it merely constructs a simulated dream space. Even now, after continuous improvements, it still carries certain risks, including the possibility of sudden death or brain death. Moreover, Yan Ru is an unstable factor. What happens inside the dream is entirely unpredictable.”

Sudden death? Brain death? Meng Yi had never heard of such risks before!

Meng Yi refused to give up: “But if Yan Ru is determined not to talk, we can’t just keep stalling with him forever.”

Lu Anchi sighed: “You’re quick-witted, but advanced medical equipment like this inherently carries risks. According to national regulations, it requires a family member’s signed consent before use.”

But Yan Ru’s parents had long passed away, and he himself was a loner—who could sign for him?

“Can’t there be an exception?” Meng Yi asked.

Lu Anchi: “Even if he’s a suspect, he still has civil rights. There are no exceptions.”

Meng Yi deflated. Even if Yan Ru did have relatives, why would they ever sign such a document for him? Who would willingly send their own family member to prison?

Was there really no way to deal with him? That was just infuriating!

Meng Yi slammed the table hard.

But just then, a slender figure stood at the door, her voice clear: “There might still be a way.”

Meng Yi’s eyes lit up as he looked toward the entrance.

The female officer responsible for investigating Yan Ru’s records walked into the break room. She nodded efficiently at Lu Anchi and said, “Yan Ru has a pair of adoptive parents. Legally speaking, they could sign as his relatives.”

Meng Yi immediately perked up: “Perfect! Why hadn’t we heard about his adoptive parents before?”

The officer, Xie Ning, replied calmly: “Yan Ru’s mother died in a car accident when he was ten. An adoptive family took him in and went through all the proper legal steps, though something happened that made Yan Ru leave at twelve to live by himself. Because he hadn’t been in contact with his adoptive parents for years, we didn’t include that information in the initial report due to time constraints.”

Meng Yi jumped up excitedly: “I’ll go contact them right now!” With that, he dashed off.

Xie Ning smiled helplessly and said, “Director, this is Xiao Meng’s first major case. I think he’s still a bit too impulsive.”

Lu Anchi stared blankly at Meng Yi’s retreating figure without responding.

Xie Ning called out again, puzzled: “Director?”

Lu Anchi snapped back to reality and coughed awkwardly to dispel the tension: “Ah, Xiao Xie, go sort through the files again. The case archives in the bureau’s records room need another review. You’ve been working hard this whole time!”

With that, Lu Anchi patted Xie Ning’s shoulder and left the room.

When I woke up again, it was pitch-black all around, without a single sound.

Was it nighttime?

Instinctively, I tried to sit up, but before I could straighten, my head slammed into something cold and metallic.

Bang!

A loud crash.

My head buzzed with tinnitus, and a huge bump swelled on my forehead, painful to the touch.

I lay back down, memories flooding back.

The train had taken a curve at a speed far exceeding the limit—then derailed!

At the time, the world spun violently, and an earsplitting roar exploded around me. Moving too fast to stop, the train crashed into the mountainside and kept sliding forward by sheer momentum, dragging us through the forest. The destruction was massive, and for those endless moments, death felt inevitable for all of us!

The violent impact sent everyone flying into the air before gravity slammed them back down. The train’s glass windows shattered under pressure, spraying deadly shards across the cabin like shrapnel.

By comparison, Yan Ru and I were relatively lucky.

Earlier, we’d been thrown together into a corner of the train wall. When the derailment and collision happened, the overturned seats crashed toward us—only to be cushioned and blocked by the luggage that had fallen on us earlier.

This left Yan Ru and me curled up in a relatively stable triangular space formed by the wall, seats, and luggage, sparing us major injuries.

Darkness always makes people feel insecure. I didn’t dare move too much, afraid that kicking something might destabilize the precarious balance of our little refuge.

“Yan Ru? Yan Ru, are you okay?” I tried calling out to him. He was lying slightly above me, very close. His leg pressed against my side, his body warmth seeping through our thin clothes.

At least he was still warm.

In the pitch darkness, I couldn’t see Yan Ru’s face, but my tension gradually eased. In such an environment, in such extreme isolation, finding another living person would make anyone rejoice.

When he didn’t respond for a while, I patted him. He stirred and woke up.

“Don’t sit up,” I warned.

Yan Ru quickly grasped our current predicament. His voice sounded muffled in the cramped darkness: “Are you hurt?”

I checked myself. Aside from some lingering soreness from being hit by the luggage earlier, all my limbs were still where they should be. “I’m fine. But what do we do now?”

Yan Ru replied, “It must be dark outside, or else we’d see some light in here. We don’t know the full extent of the accident yet, so it’s best not to act rashly. Rescue might come soon.”

That seemed to be the only thing we could do.

I nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see me and added, “Okay.”

The atmosphere cooled again, and neither of us spoke. I lay stiffly for what felt like an eternity, my body aching all over, and tried shifting positions.

My feet were braced against something hard—either a seat or luggage. To my right was Yan Ru’s warm body, and my head was near his chest. To my left was another hard surface—probably a seat, based on my probing.

I took a deep breath and slowly pulled my legs in, turning my body.

The soreness eased slightly, but before I could relax, my knee bumped into something!

Creeeak—

A grating sound came from the hard object beside me, and the fragile balance was abruptly disrupted!

“Careful!” Yan Ru barked sharply.

My arm was yanked as Yan Ru pulled me toward him. Then, a small “collapse” happened beside me.

The luggage on my left toppled from the pile of seats and landed next to my hand. If not for Yan Ru, I would’ve taken another hit.

Now, though, the space Yan Ru and I could move in was even smaller. To make matters worse, the two of us—grown men—were now pressed tightly together.

I sighed inwardly, suddenly thinking that being trapped here alone wouldn’t have been so bad—at least I wouldn’t be in this awkward situation.

The air was thick with embarrassment. I said, “In ancient times, would this count as ‘sharing a grave’?”

I regretted it as soon as the words left my mouth.

It was even more awkward now.

A faint tremor ran through Yan Ru’s body against my back. I had a feeling he was suppressing laughter. His chin rested on my head as he said, “Are you trying to die, or are you trying to ‘share a grave’?”

I coughed. “Let’s not die. I don’t even have a girlfriend yet. If the rescue team digs us out like this, people might get the wrong idea! And I wouldn’t even be able to issue a statement defending myself.”

Yan Ru finally chuckled softly.

I’d never felt a night stretch so long before. Other than Yan Ru’s breathing, there was no other sound. Opening my eyes revealed pure darkness; closing them did the same.

Yan Ru’s breathing gradually grew steady and rhythmic—he must have fallen asleep again.

Just sleep. When daylight comes, maybe the rescue team will arrive.

I prayed silently in my heart. Let this unlucky, absurd journey end soon!