Chapter 28 – Lies

Operation Blizzard officially commenced.

At dawn, when the first ray of sunlight pierced the prison cell, the iron door was opened.

Yan Ru thought he would be taken to the interrogation room. But to his surprise, flanked by two police officers, he was shoved into a police car. A blindfold was roughly pulled over his eyes, followed by a hood, ensuring he had not the slightest chance to see his surroundings.

The icy shackles gradually warmed against his skin, weighing heavily around his ankles.

With his vision stripped away, his hearing sharpened.

Yan Ru heard the sound of the vehicle moving and the shallow breaths of those around him.

In the darkness, the corners of his lips curled slightly beneath the hood.

The police car ride was smooth. He counted his heartbeats to track the time. After about ten minutes, the car came to a stop.

His arms were yanked up without courtesy as an officer coldly barked, “Get out!”

Restrained by the handcuffs and leg irons, Yan Ru said, “Officer, I’ll cooperate fully. Take it easy!”

“Enough with the jokes. Move!”

The moment his feet touched solid ground, Yan Ru was dragged forward by the officers toward an unknown destination.

He heard the clamor of a crowd and the distinct sound of camera shutters clicking. It seemed the secrecy measures for this operation hadn’t been thorough enough.

Helpless, he followed their lead, then took an elevator before finally being forced into a relatively comfortable seat.

The hood was removed, but the blindfold remained. Yan Ru had no idea where he was now. The next moment, a cold, heavy helmet was placed on his head.

“What are you doing?!” Yan Ru belatedly panicked.

A gentle, unfamiliar male voice spoke—one Yan Ru was certain he’d never heard before.

“Relax. So, you’re the Rose Killer? You look quite young.”

As the man spoke, he secured Yan Ru’s head to the top of the seat.

The handcuffs and leg irons were removed, but his limbs were then strapped firmly to the chair.

“Are you going to torture me?” Yan Ru seemed to associate his current predicament with grim scenes from TV dramas, his body trembling involuntarily. “I’ll hire a lawyer when I get out and sue you for forced confessions!”

The man chuckled and patted Yan Ru’s cheek, the warmth of his touch only making Yan Ru feel nauseous.

“What kind of thoughts are those? This is a harmonious society,” the man said. “But do you even feel fear? After doing such terrible things?”

My chest felt suffocatingly heavy, and I wanted to step outside alone for a walk.

As I left, I heard Gu Lanshan teasing, “Yan Ru, aren’t you going with them? The way you look at them is practically dripping with longing…”

The rest of their words faded from earshot.

The dormitory wasn’t tall—only three stories high—with a rooftop platform where students could hang their laundry.

Now, just as I remembered, the platform was lined with wires strung between the walls, serving as makeshift clotheslines. Sheets hung from them, fluttering in the wind.

For my younger self, the rooftop had always been an escape from reality. It wasn’t close to the sky, nor was it grounded, as if I were standing on solid earth yet could still leap off at any moment.

I recalled the first time I met Wei Qinzhou.

That night, the sky was thick with clouds, not a single star in sight. I knocked on the dormitory door over and over, begging for someone to open it. But the people inside acted as if they were deaf, stubbornly pretending not to hear.

They could treat me as invisible, as thin air, refusing to befriend me or even speak to me. I could accept that. But why did they have to torment me like this?

Through the door, I faintly heard bursts of laughter, as if they were playing some kind of game.

I lowered my head and gave up.

Fine. Let it be.

It wasn’t as if I hadn’t sought help from teachers. They weren’t indifferent, but the silent complicity of so many was something even the teachers couldn’t break. Instead, they’d look at me with scorn and sneer, “All you know how to do is tattle to the teachers!”

I was a person with nowhere to go. My adoptive parents despised me for bringing them gossip and rumors. To preserve what little dignity I had, I moved out.

My stomach growled. I wanted a piece of the one-yuan-for-three glutinous rice cakes.

But if that wasn’t possible, then… I just missed my mom a little.

By the time I snapped back to reality, I was already standing at the edge of the rooftop.

The dormitory’s rooftop had many wires for hanging laundry. The sheets swayed silently in the night, like floating ghosts.

I gripped the railing and looked down. In the darkness, the ground below was hazy, seemingly infinitely far, stirring fear in my heart.

But really, what was there to be afraid of?

According to the physics we’d learned, from this height, it would only take a second or two to hit the ground.

I took a deep breath…

“Are you here to look at the stars too?”

A clear, bright male voice suddenly spoke behind me.

Startled, my foot slipped, and I tightened my grip on the railing. The courage I’d mustered moments ago vanished just as quickly.

“Yes,” I replied softly.

The man stepped out from behind a hanging sheet, revealing a face full of vitality.

I recognized him—during morning assembly, he’d introduced himself as part of the volunteer teaching team.

“But the weather isn’t great today. No stars to see.” He stood beside me, and I could just make out his face; for once, it held none of the the disdain and coldness I was accustomed to.

I fidgeted nervously, lowering my head. “Oh.”

“My name is Wei Qinzhou.”

I hesitated, unsure whether to tell him mine.

The silence stretched.

The lights in the teaching building had all gone out. Against the night sky, it loomed like a massive beast, ready to devour everything.

“Even if we can’t see the stars today, as long as we’re alive, there’ll always be a day when we can. Don’t you think?”

Wei Qinzhou’s voice was soft, like raindrops tapping against stone tiles under eaves, soothing in a way I couldn’t describe.

“Mm,” I responded.

I was afraid that if I didn’t answer this time, he’d stop talking to me.

He glanced down and said, “If this were a cliff, jumping might lead to some martial arts manual! I’d be the first to take the leap. Too bad it’s not. And the ground’s hard. Probably painful.”

“Huh?” I didn’t follow.

Did he also want to jump?

“You actually remind me of a friend of mine.” Wei Qinzhou leaned back, resting his elbows on the railing, his gaze fixed on the boundless night instead of me.

He had a friend as miserable as me?

Curious, I asked, “What’s he like?”

Wei Qinzhou said, “Just now, seeing your silhouette, I thought you two were similar. He’s pretty aloof too, only giving one-word answers, always hiding away to read… and, like you, not very sociable.”

I ventured, “He doesn’t have friends either?”

“Not many. He’s too absorbed in his studies. Few people want to be friends with someone so dull and single-minded. He studies psychology. I’ve known since we were kids that he’d achieve great things.”

“Why?”

“Because he doesn’t care what others say. Once he decides to do something, he won’t give up easily. His determination borders on obsession.”

“That’s amazing,” I said sincerely. I wished I could be like that.

“Yeah. He told me that as long as a person walks far enough and stands high enough, the obstacles behind them become insignificant. Isn’t that how it always is in martial arts novels? Before the hero becomes a grandmaster, he has to endure some trials.”

If I could succeed, would all my current suffering become something to laugh about?

I suddenly felt a yearning for the friend Wei Qinzhou had described.

I wanted to see what kind of person could remain so focused, absolutely indifferent to the pain others inflicted.

Mustering my courage, I asked, “Did he come to the school to teach too?”

Wei Qinzhou shook his head. “No, he’s abroad, far, far from Xue City. But if you’re interested, I can introduce you two someday… Until then, you’ll be alright, won’t you?”

I nodded. “Mm!”

Many years later, I sat in a cold interrogation room, bound by shackles, yet finally met the person I’d idolized since my youth.

Just as Wei Qinzhou had predicted, he had achieved success and fame.

But as I studied his silhouette, I couldn’t help but laugh.

They all thought I’d lost my mind, but in that moment, I was only thinking of him.

Turns out, on that freezing night—when I stood at the edge of the abyss—you lied to me, Wei Qinzhou.

Him and me? We’re nothing alike.