Chapter 19 – Self-Justification

“But I must tell you, Blizzard is not as perfect as you imagine,” Xu Anran said with a resigned expression, spreading his hands. “At the very least, we’re still in the process of refining it. But even surgeries carry risks, let alone cutting-edge technology like this.”

Meng Yi had never heard of any side effects from Blizzard before. Recalling what his mentor, Lu Anchi, had once mentioned, he hesitantly asked, “Are there risks of sudden death or brain death?”

Xu Anran’s hand holding the ceramic cup paused briefly, but he quickly resumed as if nothing had happened, lifting the cup to his lips and obscuring half his face.

However, Xie Ning sensed that beneath the gentle and amiable facade, the lower half of Xu Anran’s face concealed something far less benign.

“Those risks were eliminated long ago. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have launched it commercially. Though we are businessmen, we still take responsibility for our customers—and we don’t go looking for trouble either,” Xu Anran shrugged.

It made sense. Those who could afford Blizzard were either wealthy or powerful—people Weiyao Technology wouldn’t dare offend.

“Throughout the entire process of the dreamscape, we’ll assign specialized technicians to oversee everything. Rest assured, they are all highly skilled professionals who can absolutely complete the task.”

With Xu Anran’s assurance, Meng Yi felt half of his worries ease.

Xie Ning was still skeptical, “But if we don’t participate, how can we ensure the information we obtain is accurate and reliable?”

Xu Anran smiled gently. “You misunderstand, Officer Xie. Of course, the police are welcome to participate. We’ll do everything we can to assist you.”

Xie Ning nodded, her suspicions gradually dissipating.

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the reception room, filling the space with brightness. Outside, the clamor of the bustling city was coldly muted by the glass.

Xu Anran glanced out the window and said, “Before the operation officially begins, I think it’s important to explain Blizzard’s operating mechanism to you—it’s crucial for your understanding. Hmm… how about tomorrow?”

Meng Yi and Xie Ning, feeling that they were the ones asking for help, naturally had no reason to refuse.

Xu Anran raised an eyebrow, as if suddenly recalling something, and added, “I’ve heard that Qin Yuezhang, the renowned psychologist, is also here. Could you extend my invitation to him? I’ve always believed that Weiyao’s technicians and psychologists would have endless topics to discuss.”

Meng Yi readily agreed to this warm invitation. Initially, he had been somewhat curious about Xu Anran, worried that he might be some arrogant, vulgar old businessman.

But the real Xu Anran turned out to be almost chivalrous in his warmth.

Night fell. The remote mountain village, far from the neon lights of the city, plunged into total darkness after the ceiling light—littered with dead mosquitoes—was turned off.

I lay flat on the thin mattress, staring blankly into the void. This dormitory room was unoccupied, so the bed only had a thin layer of straw padding, hardly different from lying directly on wooden planks.

Gu Lanshan’s thunderous snores had already begun, so loud that Qi Youxuan in the next room could probably feel the vibrations.

Irritated, I rolled over, wishing I could suffocate him to death.

Gu Lanshan’s words from earlier kept replaying in my mind.

Every scene constructed by Blizzard was based on the deepest fears and traumas of the patient.

Blizzard was truly cruel—under the guise of legitimacy, it tore open the most unbearable, festering wounds in a person’s heart and paraded them for others to see.

How was this any different from forcing someone to run naked in public?

The incident on the train had really happened—that theft case.

Even now, recalling it makes me seethe with hatred, grinding my teeth in fury.

Hating how weak and powerless I was back then.

Perhaps this is just human nature—after something is over, we obsessively replay it in our minds, imagining a thousand different ways we could have handled it, none of which would have left us humiliated. But in reality, when it actually happened, we just stood there silently, unable to say a word.

I still remember when I had just started setting up street stalls, still full of hope for life.

Hope—what a luxury that word was for me.

My hope had been executed alongside my father twenty years earlier, the day he was sentenced to death.

In a metropolis like Xue City, even street vending was full of opportunities. And I wasn’t aiming for great wealth—just survival.

Fortunately, the most useless—and most useful—thing I had was this face of mine. When I sold women’s clothing, I didn’t even need to hawk my wares loudly. Girls would naturally stop by my stall.

Some genuinely wanted to buy something, while others blushed and avoided eye contact. I knew what they were thinking, but I never dated any of them.

Someone like me—who would ever truly want to be with me?

It was all just temporary amusement.

The moment they found out my father was the real culprit behind the Highway Schoolgirl Sudden Death Case, they’d scramble to cut ties with me.

Still, business was always decent. Even those who came looking for amusement could be persuaded to spend a little money.

I always preferred going to Yancheng Wholesale Market myself to pick out goods. I didn’t trust anything that hadn’t passed through my hands.

The cheapest way to get from Yancheng to Xue City was by direct train, which took half a day.

Once, as usual, I returned from Yancheng with my purchases. I can’t even remember what styles I picked that time—I’ve been trying to forget that incident, though it hasn’t worked.

Sitting next to me on the train was a couple with a child. The mother held the kid in her arms, and he kept whining for snacks, so I shared my oranges with him.

The kid was a messy eater, juice splattering everywhere, even staining my white T-shirt. His mother, who had just thanked me, was now busy apologizing.

The scenery outside the window grew familiar as the train entered Xinfeng County. I’d spent many years here, so I knew it well. That was when a woman suddenly stood up.

“My things are gone!”

Her shrill voice sliced through the noisy train car like a knife.

Everyone turned to look at her.

Panicked and furious, the woman planted her hands on her hips and shouted for the conductor, then pointed at all of us. “If my things aren’t found today, none of you are leaving!”

I had a clear conscience—I had nothing to fear.

Then, suddenly, someone on the train called my name.

“Yan Ru?”

Instinctively, I looked up. A young man, sitting diagonally in front of me, was staring at me. He looked about my age, dressed plainly, his face weathered—clearly someone else struggling to make ends meet, just like me.

He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him.

At that moment, hearing my name called didn’t bring me joy—only unease.

The man suddenly perked up, his dull eyes igniting as if set ablaze. Much later, I would often wonder what had flashed through his mind to make him look at me like that, but I could never find a definitive answer.

Maybe his life was full of disappointments, so when he stumbled across someone who had once been bullied by everyone, he relished that feeling of superiority—of trampling others beneath his feet.

The man stood up and pointed at me, raising his voice. “I know him—he’s got a history of stealing! Back in high school, he was always taking things!”

At that moment, it felt like all the blood in my body had been drained, and I was thrown into an icy abyss.

It was as if I’d been stripped naked and tossed into a crowd—but instead of pity, they all laughed mockingly.

Cold and suffocating.

The things I thought I’d left behind suddenly crashed back into my life, howling to shatter every last shred of hope, to drag me back into the bottomless abyss.

Everyone’s eyes were on me.

I stammered, “I—I didn’t—”

But the man had already seized my Achilles’ heel—the one weak spot that, with the slightest poke, would kill me instantly.

I looked at him with near-pleading eyes, but he continued righteously, “His dad’s a murderer too—a rapist and murderer! Everyone, watch out! He probably stole that stuff!”

As soon as he finished speaking, the couple beside me recoiled as if I were something filthy. The mother slapped the half-eaten orange out of her child’s hand—she’d already decided I was a predator hiding behind a friendly facade.

Yet just moments ago, she had thanked me.

I hadn’t done anything wrong. I was the same person I’d been before—so why had things turned out like this?

Why did they hate me so much?

“Don’t blame an old classmate for not giving you face. I’m just warning everyone. I can’t cover for you just because we used to know each other, right?” The man’s gaze shifted to the woven bag under my seat. “That’s yours, huh?”

Before I could answer, the child’s father cut in, “Yeah! I saw him carry that bag on.”

“Open it up. Prove you’re innocent.”

All eyes were fixed on us—cold, indifferent, like statues of ice.

I was sure many of those icy figures were just waiting to laugh at me, because out of the corner of my eye, I saw people secretly filming.

If I really had been the thief, I guarantee those videos would have spread like wildfire. And even if I wasn’t, the videos would still spread like wildfire.

No one would bother to find out whether a murderer’s son had actually stolen anything—because I wasn’t worth the effort.

They’d rather believe what the videos implied, nodding along to the saying “The son of a rat will dig holes,” or even hoping I really was the thief—because that would make for juicier gossip.

Suddenly, I hated everything—but I didn’t even know who to direct that hatred toward. I swore to God, to Buddha, that I’d never done anything wrong—I didn’t deserve this.

My body trembled uncontrollably. I forced myself to straighten my spine, trying not to look so pathetic. “I didn’t steal anything. What right do you have to search my bag?”