Chapter 27 – Old Acquaintance

The night view of Xue City is unparalleled, but during the day, it looks no different from any other ordinary city.

Starting from six in the morning, before the sky is fully lit, cars gradually fill the roads, and people begin to appear on the streets—just like that, a new day begins. As time passes, the streets grow busier. Some are heading to work, others to school. Occasionally, they might run into an acquaintance and exchange a few words, or they might pretend not to know each other and simply pass by without a glance. Everyone has their own destination, their own goals to chase.

This is just an ordinary day for ordinary people.

Many despise this kind of repetitive, unchanging life. So the slightest bit of excitement, the tiniest ripple, can attract overwhelming attention.

But little do they know, this very monotony is a luxury that countless people beg for in vain.

The gloom brought by the Rose Murder Case has gradually dissipated over time. People no longer live in fear. On the contrary, they’ve grown intensely curious about the case that once terrified and captivated the city.

After all, the killer has been brought to justice. Once the need for safety is satisfied, curiosity triumphs over fear and takes the upper hand.

No one knows where the media got the news, but somehow, they learned that Weiyao Technology would be assisting in the investigation. Several media outlets requested interviews, turning Weiyao’s headquarters into a bustling scene, almost comparable to a product launch event.

Even after being turned away, the media refused to give up. They staked out Xu Anran’s usual routes, rushing toward him with cameras and microphones the moment he appeared. If they could just get a single sentence out of Xu Anran, they’d be able to spin it into a full-blown article!

Xu Anran was thoroughly annoyed, but his impeccable upbringing kept him from losing his temper with the media—especially reporters—in public.

He could only smile at the cameras and offer vague, diplomatic answers.

“Thank you for your concern, friends from the press. I appreciate everyone’s dedication. At this stage, many details are still uncertain, so please wait for the official briefing from the Xue City Police Department. If you are interested in Weiyao Technology’s Blizzard System or have related questions, you are very welcome to visit Weiyao for further discussions..”

“Jenny was allowed to interview before, but we’re not. Is Weiyao playing favorites?” one reporter sneered.

Xu Anran acted as if he hadn’t heard, his smile unchanging. He wasn’t just Weiyao’s Chief Technology Officer—he was its leader, a businessman through and through. The reporters couldn’t pry open his slick mouth, but they could certainly wait.

As long as they camped outside Weiyao’s headquarters, they were sure to get their scoop eventually.

The moment we returned to the dorm, Gu Lanshan pounced on us.

“Where the hell did you two go? I turned this whole damn school upside down and couldn’t find you. You’re really good at hide-and-seek, huh?”

I curled my lip. “Guess we just missed each other.”

Gu Lanshan didn’t dwell on it. Instead, his eyes zeroed in on the wound at the corner of Yan Ru’s mouth. “You got punched?”

Sometimes, I genuinely doubted whether his mouth was capable of soothing the traumas of mentally ill patients.

Yan Ru seemed to think of something. He threw an arm over my shoulder and leveled an indifferent glare at Gu Lanshan. “None of your business.”

I actually sensed hostility from Yan Ru toward Gu Lanshan. But… Gu Lanshan hadn’t done anything to harm Yan Ru, had he?

Their animosity was something I was happy to see. So I had no intention of mediating.

Gu Lanshan took a deep breath, but all the words he wanted to say were choked off by Yan Ru’s four icy syllables. His face darkened as he pointed at himself, then at me, before finally exhaling in defeat. “Fine! I’ll mind my own damn business! You and Qin Yuezhang can just go be lovey-dovey together!”

With that, he retreated to his own bunk, flopping onto his side and presenting his back to us like a sulking child.

But given Gu Lanshan’s personality, no matter how angry he was, it wouldn’t last long. Sure enough, before long, someone knocked on the dorm door, and Gu Lanshan went to answer it.

Two men stood outside. One was tall, dressed in a gray overcoat, with a gentle demeanor and a faint smile playing on his lips—it was Xu Anran. The other was presumably also part of the volunteer teaching team, with a camera hanging around his neck.

The moment I saw him, my heart nearly stopped.

My eyes burned, my nose ached as if I were suffocating, and useless tears threatened to spill over.

I quickly took a deep breath and averted my gaze, turning toward the corner.

Yan Ru glanced at me and suddenly froze. “What’s wrong?” he murmured.

I feigned confusion. “Huh?”

“You look… like you’re about to cry.”

I forced a casual tone. “What makes you say that?”

“Your eyes are red. You look like you’re—”

I raised my head to meet Yan Ru’s gaze. He was slightly taller than me, so I had to tilt my chin up to appear unruffled.

Our eyes locked, and for a second, the world fell silent.

Yan Ru’s brows twitched, and he abruptly looked away. He muttered something under his breath, but I couldn’t catch it.

For the first time, I felt a spark of curiosity about this man—a desire to understand him. “Hmm? Like I’m what?”

But Yan Ru refused to answer.

Over by the door, Xu Anran coughed awkwardly. “May we come in?”

Gu Lanshan’s face lit up with an obsequious grin the moment he saw Xu Anran—the kind of instinctive fawning an employee shows their boss. He shot a glance at Yan Ru and me and let out a disdainful snort.

“Of course, come in, come in! These two are just being weird and slow. Boss—I mean, Teacher! Don’t think I’m like them. I’m perfectly normal!”

I: “…” I really wanted to sew Gu Lanshan’s mouth shut.

The dorm was sparsely furnished, so the two guests had nowhere to sit except on our beds.

Gu Lanshan eagerly offered his own bunk to Xu Anran, then stood beside him like a little eunuch serving an emperor, hands clasped in front of him.

The man with the camera introduced himself, “I’m Wei. You can call me Teacher Wei or Brother Wei. Since we’ll be teaching here for a while, the school arranged for us to stay in the dorms too. We just came by to check in on you. Do you usually live in the dorms?”

Gu Lanshan pursed his lips, suddenly silent.

I answered, “Yes. There aren’t many boarding students. The few of us live here long-term and rarely go home.”

Wei nodded sympathetically. “That must be tough.”

He went on with the kind of empty, well-meaning platitudes teachers love to spout, and we listened quietly.

Then, abruptly, Wei changed the subject. “I heard there’s a forest near Xinfeng County, far from city light pollution—perfect for stargazing. Do you know about it?”

Of course I knew. Every July and August, people would come to admire the Milky Way, lugging heavy equipment and trekking into the mountains. Sometimes, they’d even hire locals as guides. Every summer, I’d wait for these stargazers, hoping to earn enough from them to cover my tuition.

Their romantic pursuit was my lifeline.

“Yeah, lots of people go every year,” I replied.

Wei’s eyes brightened with excitement. “It’s only June now, but do you think we could still see the stars? Is the mountain trail easy to navigate? We were planning to go stargazing this weekend. Since you grew up here, do you know the best spots?”

Gu Lanshan wore a conflicted expression but stayed silent.

I lowered my eyes, deciding not to say more. Given my current persona, I shouldn’t know these details. The more I spoke, the more suspicious I’d seem.

I stole a glance at Xu Anran, who returned it with a mild smile, seemingly unaware of anything amiss.

Wei mistook our silence for ignorance and laughed heartily to dispel the awkwardness. “It’s fine if you don’t know! We actually did some research beforehand, so we have a general idea. We just wanted to get some local insights.”

Xu Anran smiled. “Would you like to come with us? Since you don’t have anything to do on weekends anyway, consider it a chance to relax.”

Though he said “you,” his eyes were fixed solely on Yan Ru, as if the invitation was meant only for him.

Yan Ru looked at me questioningly, as if to say he’d go if I did.

Meeting his gaze, I couldn’t describe the emotions swirling inside me. Maybe familiar scenes always dredge up old feelings and memories. In my real adolescence, there was never someone who’d say, “If you go, I’ll go.”

Instead, it was always: if I went, they wouldn’t.

“Sure,” I said, meeting Wei’s eyes and keeping my true emotions hidden from the other three. “We’ve never gone stargazing before.”

Wei slapped his camera in delight. “As the saying goes, ‘Joy shared is joy doubled!’ Xu Anran, I think we should organize an outdoor activity! A hiking and camping trip for stargazing—what do you think?”

Xu Anran nodded. “Sounds like a great idea.”

Wei was so pleased with his brilliant plan that he’d already started brainstorming. He stood up eagerly. “No time to waste! Let’s go back and discuss the feasibility and details with the others!”

Xu Anran exchanged a meaningful look with Gu Lanshan before leaving with Wei.

Yan Ru stared at Wei’s retreating figure, his eyes deep and contemplative.

Was he remembering something?

I observed him discreetly, but his expression soon returned to normal.

I exhaled quietly. After all… after all, that man had been his best friend.

Wei Qinzhou.

That damn do-gooder.

That hopelessly earnest, inexplicably kind damn do-gooder.

That fool who’d always spout nonsense like, “A true hero is one who serves his country and his people.”

That naive, stupid fool who actually believed one person could change anything.

But now, that damn do-gooder was dead.

Just goes to show—good people never live long.

I’d imagined meeting him again in a dream, and now it had come true. Blizzard always seemed to catch me off guard with its surprises.