Chapter 26 – Rooftop

When Qin Yuezhang returned to the police station, the lights in the interrogation room were still on.

Meng Yi stood guard outside. Through the one-way glass, he could see Lu Anchi and Yan Ru locked in a silent standoff.

Qin Yuezhang paused, staring at Yan Ru. He remained deeply curious—what kind of mindset drove this young man with such a beautiful face to commit those horrifying, sensational crimes?

Lu Anchi’s lips moved slightly, likely saying something. But the microphone in the interrogation room seemed to be malfunctioning, making it impossible to hear their conversation.

“Why is Director Lu interrogating him alone?” Qin Yuezhang frowned. According to procedure, there should be at least two investigators present during an interrogation.

Meng Yi said, “Yan Ru just insisted on seeing the director. We’re short-staffed, so the director went in alone.”

Under the light, Yan Ru’s thin eyelids lifted slightly as he glanced at Lu Anchi with a faint, mocking smile, as if silently ridiculing the other man’s helplessness.

The usually composed Lu Anchi had deep furrows between his brows, his eyes burning with towering fury as he glared at Yan Ru. Judging by his mouth movements, he was likely cursing vehemently.

But Yan Ru merely lowered his head with a smile. It should have been a gentle look, but his eyes were dead and dark, quietly horrifying.

“Yan Ru really is…” Meng Yi propped his chin on his hand. “I have to admire him. We’ve tried every method, but we still can’t get him to talk.”

Though Qin Yuezhang despised Yan Ru for causing the death of his friend, he had to admit that this beautiful young man possessed a strange allure.

Psychology teaches that childhood experiences play a decisive role in shaping one’s character. It just so happened that Qin Yuezhang was researching this very topic.

He had read Yan Ru’s file, but words on paper were dead—people were alive.

What was Yan Ru holding onto so stubbornly? Where had he hidden the bodies? What was his motive?

To obtain a letter of forgiveness from the victims’ families? There were precedents for that abroad, but such tactics didn’t seem to work domestically.

Suddenly, the young man in the interrogation room raised his head sharply. His sinister gaze pierced through his bangs, through the glass, and locked onto Qin Yuezhang’s eyes like a bolt of lightning splitting the night sky—vibrant and electrifying.

At that moment, Qin Yuezhang’s heart slammed violently against his ribs.

This was dangerous. He knew it.

But the more dangerous it was, the more he wanted to unravel its mysteries.

If not for the fact that he knew this was a one-way mirror, Qin Yuezhang might have thought Yan Ru was staring straight at him.

Soon, Yan Ru turned away, facing Lu Anchi again. He said something, then burst into laughter. Lu Anchi stood up expressionlessly and left.

The door to the interrogation room swung open, releasing a torrent of wild, deranged laughter. Lu Anchi stepped out.

Meng Yi hurried forward. “Master?”

Lu Anchi’s expression was grim as he shut the door, cutting off the laughter. “Still making a scene, still refusing to cooperate.”

The boys’ restroom on the fourth floor of the school was once the place I feared most.

I admit I’m a coward. The world never decreed that cowardice was a sin.

But in the eyes of many, it wasn’t that simple.

Yan Ru’s voice betrayed no panic: “You dragged me here just to spout this garbage?”

Another male voice buzzed through the wooden door—probably Zhou Xin’s. “Yan Ru, you’ve made a few friends now, huh? Got some backbone. Well, believe me, Laozi has plenty of ways to make you infamous again! Let’s see who’d want to hang out with a murderer’s son then!”

My chest tightened. I had long understood how fragile and fleeting human friendships were. The moment people learned my father’s name, it always signaled the end of the relationship.

I thought I wouldn’t care anymore now, but I still felt anger and resentment.

Zhou Xin probably expected to provoke Yan Ru, or at least draw out some emotional reaction. But Yan Ru only said calmly, “Can I leave now?”

“Looks like he’s asking for a beating,” a hoarse voice chimed in, followed by the sound of scuffling.

Were they fighting in there?

I didn’t know how many of them there were, but Yan Ru was outnumbered—he’d definitely suffer.

Those kids who were used to running wild in the mountains knew exactly where to hit to inflict the most pain.

Inside, someone groaned in pain, the sound bubbling up from their throat. I couldn’t tell if it was Yan Ru.

When should I step in?

It had to be when he was at his most desperate, most humiliated.

I stood silently in the hallway, looking down. Gu Lanshan’s tiny figure darted around below, scratching his head. He seemed to sense something and suddenly looked up. I quickly retreated into the corridor’s blind spot.

When I looked again, Gu Lanshan was gone. He must have already started making his way upstairs.

It wouldn’t be long before he found this place.

I turned back immediately, raised my foot, and kicked the restroom door with all my might.

BANG!

The door slammed against the wall before rebounding. The commotion froze everyone inside, and all eyes turned to me.

Yan Ru looked at me too.

His lip was split, his cheek scratched by someone, and his hair was a mess.

Even worse than when we crawled out from under the train.

But… the four boys sprawled on the floor weren’t faring much better. Zhou Xin leaned against the wall, clutching his eye, while the other three struggled to stand.

“Qin Yuezhang!” Yan Ru’s eyes brightened as he took two or three steps toward me. “They were trying to bully me.”

Me: “…”

This wasn’t what I’d imagined.

The three boys, embarrassed by my sudden appearance, helped each other up.

I asked, “You beat them up?”

In my memory, these boys had terrifying strength. No matter how hard I fought back, I’d always end up bruised and battered. Eventually, I learned it was smarter not to resist—the outcome was the same either way. If I pissed them off, I’d only suffer more.

“It was self-defense.” Yan Ru blinked, then tilted his head to show off his scratches. “Besides, I got hurt too.”

I actually saw a hint of grievance in his expression!

If this was what he called “getting hurt,” then those four boys must’ve died once over.

Zhou Xin snorted coldly. “Yan Ru, just you wait! I’ll make sure you pay!”

If it had been me in the past, I might’ve been troubled by such a threat. But Yan Ru didn’t even glance at him, completely unfazed.

The class bell had rung long ago—we were definitely late. Once classes started, the school corridors emptied. I used to love sneaking out during this time, as if I could hide from the whole world.

“Want to go sit on the rooftop?” I pointed at Yan Ru’s bruised face, still discolored even after washing. “You can’t go back like this.”

Yan Ru said, “Most school rooftops are locked, aren’t they?”

I paused. “Let’s check.”

The stairwell led straight to the rooftop, but for safety reasons, a metal gate stood in the way. Most people would assume it was locked at first glance, but in reality, the lock had long been broken by someone—it just hung there for show.

“We can get in!” I feigned excitement, turning to Yan Ru with a raised brow, signaling him to follow.

The school rooftop was vast, bordered only by a railing. Weeds sprouted between cracks in the cement, making it feel like a no-man’s land.

We sat down casually, facing the mountains in the distance.

“Does it hurt?” I pointed at his split lip.

I was just going through the motions, offering perfunctory concern. If anyone knew about pain, it was me.

But to my surprise, Yan Ru nodded outright. “It hurts.”

“…Huh?” Weren’t you just acting all unbothered?

Yan Ru explained, “If I told them it hurt, it’d just encourage them. But you’re different.”

I countered, “How am I different?”

“You’re someone who genuinely cares about me.”

I had no idea how he’d reached that conclusion. Was his imagination too vivid, or had I played my role too well?

Yan Ru suddenly focused, staring into my eyes. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but every time they pick on me, you look even angrier than I do.”

Did I?

Yan Ru’s expression softened, his dark pupils reflecting only me. He really did have beautiful eyes—like obsidian, holding endless brilliance. And now, those gemstones held only me.

A strange heat flared in my chest, a spark threatening to ignite, pounding against my ribs.

Being stared at by eyes like that, it was hard not to entertain wild thoughts. If he used this trick on naive girls or boys, he’d probably never fail.

I averted my gaze and coughed lightly. “We’re friends, right? No one wants to see their friends get bullied.”

Even if this was all fake.

“Just friends?” Yan Ru sounded surprised.

I countered, “What else?”

He fell silent for a moment, then smiled and turned to gaze at the distant green mountains. “We’ve prepared to share a grave. Doesn’t that make us… best friends?”

“Sure. Best friends.”

When he woke up, he’d probably slap himself twice for saying this. The thought alone made me want to laugh.

Sunlight poured down as we sat in the railing’s shadow. The mountains in the distance were lush, with occasional birds flitting past before vanishing into the dense foliage.

Suddenly, Yan Ru asked softly, “Did you hear everything they said?”

He knew I’d been outside? Regardless, I couldn’t admit it outright.

I turned away quickly, answering firmly, “No, just bits where they were insulting you.”

Yan Ru exhaled imperceptibly.

I added, “Did hearing that upset you?”

“No one would feel good hearing those things.” His voice was low, tinged with dejection.

Maybe I should pretend to comfort him. I reached out and patted his shoulder. Yan Ru took the opportunity to close the distance between us.

Then his tone shifted. “But I know I’ve never done anything wrong. There’s no reason to torment myself over others’ words or doubt myself. Even if my father… You can’t choose your birth, but you can choose your path.”

His words struck me like a tolling bell.

You can’t choose your birth, but you can choose your path.

So the reason my life was such a mess now was because I’d been trapped by the past, by words, by others’ judgments—because I’d failed to see my own path clearly?

If… just if, I had met him sooner.