Chapter 31 – Estrangement

“Beep—”

A massive machine roared to life, its operation accompanied by the rhythmic hum of instruments monitoring the vital signs of several individuals lying semi-reclined within its chambers. The room buzzed with the mechanical noise of the equipment.

Embedded in the wall was a large screen densely packed with data indecipherable to the untrained eye, continuously updating in real-time.

Lu Anchi stood in the room, his expression impassive as he watched the technicians bustling back and forth.

“Director Lu, rest assured. Blizzard has been activated. If all goes smoothly, they should awaken safely with the information you need before long,” said a technician in a white lab coat, neither servile nor overbearing. “You may wait outside or assign officers to monitor the situation.”

Lu Anchi narrowed his eyes, the wrinkles at their corners stretching toward his temples. Rubbing his forehead, he was about to leave when he suddenly pointed at the massive screen embedded in the wall and asked, “What’s going on over there? Is there some kind of malfunction?”

The others turned to look. A glaring red warning had appeared on the screen.

“Alert—hacker attack!”

The technicians sprang into action. Several immediately took their seats, fingers flying across keyboards at lightning speed.

Since Blizzard’s inception, such cyberattacks were not uncommon. Many had attempted to crack its secrets, and the technicians were well accustomed to dealing with them.

But this time, the attack was particularly aggressive, and the perpetrator seemed intimately familiar with the internal system, making it more challenging to resolve—though it was only a matter of time.

As the technicians worked frantically, Lu Anchi found no room to intervene. His gaze swept over Yan Ru in the machine before resting briefly on Qin Yuezhang. With a silent sigh, he turned and left the busy control room.

Because of the brawl—because I had also thrown punches—it was classified as a student altercation. And I could clearly sense the shift in the atmosphere around me.

Many stopped speaking to me, and some even gave me scrutinizing, odd looks when I passed by.

Time flew, and soon it was Friday. Wei Qinzhou’s planned camping trip had fifteen students participating, including me, Yan Ru, Qi Youxuan, and Gu Lanshan.

That evening, only Yan Ru was packing for the next day’s trip, while Gu Lanshan lounged lazily on his bed, legs crossed and bouncing idly.

Finally, Yan Ru placed his packed backpack in the corner, exhaled, and unfolded his neatly folded blanket.

Honestly, watching him work diligently like this, he really did seem quite domestic.

“Are you all packed?” I asked.

Yan Ru’s hands paused. He let out a vague “Mm,” from his nose but didn’t look at me.

This sudden coldness had persisted for days. Ever since the brawl, Yan Ru’s attitude had become strangely distant. I replayed his words from that day in my mind, sensing something off but unable to pinpoint it.

At first, I thought I was overthinking it. But after several attempts to test the waters, my suspicions were confirmed.

I felt frustrated. I’d gone over everything that had happened during this time in my head, and I was sure I’d handled things well—better than Gu Lanshan and Qi Youxuan, at least.

Yet Yan Ru could interact with them naturally, while with me, he turned into this meek, evasive mess.

Had he remembered something?

My eyes flicked to the backpack hanging on my bedpost. Inside it was that book that had been gnawing at me like a thorn in my side—The Interpretation of Dreams by the renowned psychologist Sigmund Freud.

Back when we were buried under the rubble, I hadn’t planned to retrieve it. Losing it would have been for the best—no harm to me. But that damned Gu Lanshan had picked it up and returned it to me.

With Gu Lanshan watching me like a hawk, I didn’t dare dispose of it recklessly. Instead, I hung the backpack on the hook with feigned nonchalance.

I studied the zipper. Good—the tiny thread I’d tied as a marker was untouched.

The backpack hadn’t been opened. Yan Ru hadn’t seen the book.

This only deepened my confusion. Why was he distancing himself from me?

If I were to make a somewhat narcissistic assumption—could it be that, after the bathroom fight, he was afraid of dragging me down further by associating with me?

But he didn’t seem like that kind of person.

Gu Lanshan had also noticed the strange tension between us. Pillowing his head on one hand, he drawled lazily, “Qin Yuezhang took a beating for you, you know. The way you’re acting now is pretty heartless.”

Yan Ru turned and fixed Gu Lanshan with a sharp glare, like a dagger freshly unsheathed.

Gu Lanshan shifted uncomfortably under the stare and muttered, “I’m not wrong, am I?”

I said, “Don’t dwell on what happened. I didn’t lose out, and I’ve hated bullies for a long time. They had no right to treat you that way.”

“Qin Yuezhang.” Yan Ru called my name softly, his voice trailing downward. “Can you really brush off what they said and did without a second thought?”

I froze, then flashed my most radiant smile. “Of course.”

Yan Ru looked at me with that same strange, unsettling expression—pure, terrifying benevolence without any malice (because I knew all too well what malice looked like). His eyes flickered faintly under the light, like shattered diamonds.

Even tinged with sorrow.

Sorrow? I pressed a hand to my chest, where my heart thudded rapidly.

A terrible premonition surged through me, though its nature remained unclear, leaving me even more uneasy.

The next day, we gathered early at the school gate.

The stargazing camping trip included fifteen students and eight teachers—a sizable group. Fortunately, many of the students had grown up in the mountains and were as comfortable in these woods as if they were at home.

The trail, worn smooth by countless feet over the years, wound gently through the trees and wasn’t difficult to navigate.

A few boys clustered around the beautiful teacher Wang Yuehan, chattering and hopping around like monkeys. Every now and then, they’d bring her some wild fruit or flowers. Wang Yuehan, who had likely never seen such mountain treasures before, widened her eyes in delight and curiosity.

Wei Qinzhou was busy organizing the group, ensuring everyone’s safety. He didn’t dare relax for a second.

“Hey! Keep up, don’t fall behind!” Wei Qinzhou called over his shoulder, pointing at a boy who was attempting to climb a tree. “Are you part monkey? Get back here!”

The group burst into laughter, and the boy sheepishly rejoined the others.

Wei Qinzhou, however, didn’t notice a protruding rock underfoot. He stumbled, nearly falling.

“Be careful!” Qi Youxuan rushed forward to steady him, her gaze intense. “Teacher Wei.”

Wei Qinzhou awkwardly extricated himself and joked, “This is leading by example! Not watching my step and almost eating dirt.”

Qi Youxuan turned her face away. From behind her, I could only see her wiping the corner of her eye.

Gu Lanshan nudged me. “Don’t you think Miss Qi is acting weird?”

I asked, “How so?”

“I’ve partnered with her before. She’s usually sharp and efficient. But this time, she volunteered for the mission, yet she’s been oddly passive inside the dreamscape. Now she’s wasting time on someone who doesn’t even exist outside of it. Aside from us, everyone else is just a subconscious projection created by Blizzard.” Gu Lanshan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Something’s off with her.”

I said offhandedly, “Maybe she’s deliberately getting close to the victim to uncover a motive.”

Gu Lanshan countered, “The boss and I discussed Wei Qinzhou’s case. Who’d have thought he and Yan Ru knew each other as kids? Maybe this wasn’t an accident—maybe it was premeditated murder!”

“Or maybe the victim left such a strong impression on Yan Ru’s subconscious that he was projected into the dream.”

“Really?” Gu Lanshan tilted his head. “Is there any theoretical basis for that?”

Theoretical basis? How the hell would I know?

I glanced at Yan Ru, who was walking a few steps ahead of us but deliberately keeping his distance. Smiling, I said, “Of course there is.”

Gu Lanshan nodded. “Right. The files the boss pulled, along with the investigation into Yan Ru, never turned up any evidence that the two knew each other. But my gut says there’s more to this… Hey, feel my pulse. Is it fast? My intuition’s pretty accurate when my heart races.”

Without waiting for permission, Gu Lanshan grabbed my hand and pressed it to his chest. I let him, resigned. But when I looked up, I caught Yan Ru’s gaze—just before he turned away.