Chapter 25 – Sympathy

The last time Qin Yuezhang saw Wei Qinzhou was when Wei Qinzhou returned to China.

In recent years, Weiyao Technology had risen rapidly in the domestic market, attracting many talents. Wei Qinzhou was particularly interested in this company, especially its Blizzard System, which was said to be so miraculous by those who had used it.

Fortunately, Wei Qinzhou’s resume received a quick response, and he decided to return to China.

Their contact resumed online, but Wei Qinzhou often shared interesting things about his life in China with Qin Yuezhang, as well as his work experiences.

Later, one of Qin Yuezhang’s academic papers sparked widespread discussion in the field of psychology, and many universities invited him to give academic lectures. Their communication gradually faded.

Only once did Wei Qinzhou, unusually shy, tell Qin Yuezhang that he had a girlfriend.

For someone as extroverted and thick-skinned as Wei Qinzhou to show shyness and embarrassment, Qin Yuezhang was genuinely surprised.

He thought Wei Qinzhou must really like that girl.

Wei Qinzhou happily told Qin Yuezhang that they both worked at Weiyao Technology. Although Weiyao Technology did not forbid office romances and even encouraged employees to form relationships internally, the two decided to keep it private at work for the sake of appearances.

But Wei Qinzhou was the kind of person who would flaunt even a new copy of The Legend of the Condor Heroes. How could he possibly resist showing off such a big thing as a girlfriend?

So their conversations shifted from how to become a martial arts hero to how to make his girlfriend fall in love with wuxia novels too.

Qin Yuezhang had planned to return to China after his last academic lecture. He was now full of curiosity and a thirst for knowledge about the psychology of people in love.

A long-term chuunibyou, a severe wuxia enthusiast, now afflicted with lovesickness… Qin Yuezhang found it all very amusing.

He still remembered that day—he had just finished his lecture, and many students surrounded him to discuss related questions. Suddenly, his phone rang.

It was Wei Qinzhou’s mother.

On the other end of the line, a trembling, tearful voice choked out:

“Xiao Qin… Qinzhou… something’s happened.”

Wang Yuehan.

A very familiar name.

“Isn’t that the new female teacher in Yan Ru’s class just now!” Gu Lanshan raised his eyebrows high, clicking his tongue in amazement. “I thought this rural middle school had simple, honest customs—seems calm on the surface, but underneath, it’s turbulent as hell!”

Qi Youxuan said, “Scumbags exist everywhere; it’s not about the region. And… it might not even be related to Yan Ru.”

Gu Lanshan pursed his lips. “If it has nothing to do with him, why would this be the festering wound in his heart that he dares not show others? Don’t forget, in front of Blizzard, even the richest person can’t buy a fig leaf.”

Under Blizzard, all pain and sorrow are laid bare.

They can only be exposed for others to scrutinize at will.

Qi Youxuan couldn’t argue with Gu Lanshan, so she simply lowered her head and fell silent. Xu Anran, however, seemed to sense something and said to her, “Xiao Xuan, you’re right too. But our purpose here isn’t to debate right or wrong—it’s to find Wei Qinzhou’s body. You want to find it too, don’t you?”

“Yes, President Xu,” Qi Youxuan replied.

“In Snowscape, you can just call me by my name,” Xu Anran said gently, his voice as smooth and warm as jade.

Gu Lanshan asked, “Boss, what should we do next?”

Xu Anran said, “Yan Ru is far more strong-willed than the previous patients. I suspect that car crash was caused by a forced interrogation leading to the collapse of the dream.”

Gu Lanshan immediately defended himself, “I just asked a casual question earlier, I really didn’t force anything!”

“At the time, we were in the shallow layer of the dream, so a collapse was normal,” Qi Youxuan said, her almond-shaped eyes clear as she recalled the events.

Xu Anran reassured, “It’s fine, I’m not blaming anyone. We’ve dealt with many patients before, and those with heavy psychological defenses aren’t uncommon. We have plenty of ways to make them lower their guard.”

I listened attentively, almost tempted to pull out a notebook and take notes.

“The situation isn’t clear yet, so we shouldn’t act rashly—it might trigger another collapse. At the end of the day, Yan Ru is a traumatized victim. If possible, out of humanitarian concern, we should treat him like any other patient and help him resolve his emotional knots. That way, we can also gain his trust to assist with the mission.”

Gu Lanshan stroked his chin. “From what I see, his trauma is just being isolated in his youth, right? Let’s just give him plenty of attention and love—”

He dragged out the word “love” with exaggerated flair, making one’s skin crawl.

Xu Anran was amused and smacked Gu Lanshan on the forehead. “First, observe quietly. Fulfill his needs for social interaction and respect, gain his trust, and then proceed step by step.”

As Xu Anran’s number one fan, Gu Lanshan naturally had no objections.

Xu Anran asked, “Xiao Xuan, what do you think?”

Qi Youxuan said softly, “I think it’s a good plan.”

I also chimed in, “I’ve never worked with Blizzard before, so I’ll follow your lead.”

“Good, then it’s settled.” Xu Anran finalized the decision.

As we left the office, Gu Lanshan nudged me with his shoulder. “Consultant Qin, didn’t you go to high school abroad?”

My heart skipped a beat, instantly on guard, but I kept my expression calm. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I was just curious about what high schools abroad are like. I’ve never been overseas my whole life, and after joining Weiyao Technology, I’ve been worked like a dog. Our boss… is so stingy. All we do is work, attend meetings, or study. No chance to travel abroad for fun. Can you tell me, how different are high schools abroad compared to domestic ones?”

Gu Lanshan gestured around at the school buildings. “They must be worlds apart from here, right?”

Xuehua Middle School was small, with few students. It only had one teaching building, and even that was quite old, with ivy crawling up half of it.

How would I know what foreign high schools were like?

I wasn’t sure if this guy was trying to fish for information because he suspected something or if he was just bored and making small talk.

Frowning slightly, I spoke quickly, “Whether it’s abroad or domestically, schools are places for learning. Those who are dedicated to their studies won’t care about external conditions or environment—they’ll only wish they had more time to study.”

I hoped that answer would be enough to brush him off.

Thankfully, Gu Lanshan was distracted. He sighed, “No wonder you’re in academia! When I was in school, all I cared about was whether the internet was fast enough!”

As we chatted, we returned to the classroom.

Students were gathered in small groups, some chatting, some chasing each other around, and others quietly reading at their desks.

Their faces were somewhat blurry, but I could vaguely recognize a few familiar ones.

If I hadn’t first awakened to my consciousness and realized I was in a dream, I might have truly lost myself in this world Blizzard had constructed.

My gaze swept across the classroom, and I suddenly noticed an empty seat at the back, near the corner.

Yan Ru was gone!

Gu Lanshan asked, puzzled, “Where’d he go?”

“I’ll go look for him.”

“I’ll go with you!”

There was no way I’d let Gu Lanshan come with me.

“Sure,” I agreed. “But it’d be a waste of time if both of us go together. You check the playground; I’ll search the floors.”

Gu Lanshan didn’t suspect anything and immediately dashed down the stairs.

As for me, I slowly made my way to the fourth-floor restroom.

When I entered the classroom earlier, I had already noticed that the few troublemakers who loved picking on Yan Ru were also absent. If they had disappeared along with Yan Ru, the most likely place they’d be was the fourth-floor boys’ restroom.

That was the unspoken territory for bullying.

The school’s layout was all too familiar to me. I walked down the long hallway to the end and climbed the stairs.

I could almost imagine what was happening inside.

A few boys would surround him, pin him down, mock him, and vent the restless malice of youth onto him.

I pushed the wooden door—sure enough, it was locked from the inside.

Staring at the faded restroom sign, I smirked coldly.

Inside, the sound of a confrontation reached my ears. A hoarse voice deliberately raised its pitch, trying to overpower the other side. A few others jeered, shouting outrageous things.

And then I heard his voice—calm and composed, standing out starkly against the others.

Holding my breath so as not to alert them, I leaned against the cold tiles and quietly waited to listen to the show inside.

I wasn’t here to save him.

Why should I save him?

This was exactly what I wanted to see.

Back in the interrogation room, when he looked at me with those detached, scrutinizing eyes and said he “sympathized” with me, I had thought viciously—how dare someone like him, someone who had lived a smooth life under the spotlight, surrounded by applause and flowers, someone who was the darling of the heavens—how dare he say he sympathized with me?

I didn’t need his sympathy.

I wanted him to truly understand.