Chapter 38 – Cooperation

A crisp “snap” sound.

Meng Yi kicked the glass door. Although the door remained intact, the pain made him grimace.

Lu Anchi and Jenny turned to look at him, and he felt so embarrassed he wished he could burrow into the ground. He explained, “Sorry, I was just… too shocked.”

Jenny smiled and asked, “Shocked by what? Is it really that surprising that Qin Yuezhang is my son?”

Meng Yi waved his hands repeatedly, this time looking at Jenny with genuine admiration. “Consultant Qin and you are both outstanding in your respective fields. It just feels like the world is so small.”

No mother dislikes hearing her child praised.

Lu Anchi said, “This case is special. The victim was Consultant Qin’s long-time friend. He was hired specifically to provide support and assistance for the investigation.”

“I know all that. I’ve even met that child, Qinzhou.” Jenny abruptly changed the subject. “I’m just very curious—how did you convince Yuezhang to personally participate in Operation Blizzard?”

Lu Anchi tilted his head slightly, his brows furrowing in confusion.

Jenny explained, “Yuezhang is excessively rational and composed. He’s never been the type to ‘go mad for a cause.’ Kellogg could experiment on his own son, and Kleitman could experiment on himself with sleep studies. But Yuezhang has always refused to personally participate in experiments.”

As she spoke, her nails unconsciously tapped against the table. “So I’m really curious—why did he agree this time? How did you persuade him?”

Lu Anchi thought back. There didn’t seem to be any need for “persuasion.” He had merely made the suggestion, and Qin Yuezhang had readily agreed.

“Perhaps Consultant Qin is particularly interested in Blizzard,” Lu Anchi said.

Jenny shook her head in disagreement. Since she hadn’t gotten the answer she wanted and couldn’t interview anyone about the case that intrigued her, there was no point in staying any longer.

Jenny stood up, but after taking a few steps, she suddenly turned back and scrutinized Lu Anchi carefully.

“Director Lu, have we met before? You look very familiar to me.”

Talking to a smart person is never a strain.

Qin Yuezhang had long seen through my ulterior motives.

Yes, from the very beginning, I intended to blow this matter wide open.

A low-level technician dies of cardiac arrest.

Such news is commonplace, and in the end, the onlookers would only sigh—”The overtime culture is too brutal, squeezing people to death.”

Wei Qinzhou’s death would inevitably be attributed to the same narrative. He would soon be forgotten, reduced to an uninteresting, unremarkable topic of after-dinner conversation, glanced over in passing.

But I know that’s not the truth.

Yet what use is it if only I know? I have no proof.

Weiyao Technology is a behemoth. No matter how loudly I shout, the only echo I get is—

“The murderer’s son.”

The original sin of my identity makes every word I say seem so unreliable.

And Blizzard only serves the wealthy and powerful. Activating it once burns through money. Even if I sold clothes on the street for the rest of my life, I’d never earn enough to afford access to Blizzard.

Making a scene was my best option.

Fortunately, everything has unfolded according to our expectations and plans.

But now, my gaze shifts to Qin Yuezhang. His handsome face is turned toward me, his deep eyes unblinking. His features are the kind that stirs desire—who wouldn’t harbor improper thoughts under such a gaze?

I suddenly remember the first time I truly saw him. Back then, Qin Yuezhang stood on the podium in the spacious, well-lit lecture hall of Xue City University, impeccably dressed in a suit, radiating grace and confidence as he spoke about things I barely understood.

Meanwhile, I sat awkwardly in the last row, feeling like an intruder in a world that didn’t belong to me, completely out of place.

Between him and me, there was always an insurmountable gap.

Yet fate works in mysterious ways. At the time, I didn’t know he was the friend Wei Qinzhou had mentioned. I had just wanted to see what the son of that so-called big-shot journalist, Jenny, looked like.

A flame seemed to ignite in my chest, burning fiercely. I pressed a hand to my heart, feeling its irregular thumping beneath my palm—as if something was struggling to break free.

What an unfamiliar sensation.

I pushed aside the unsettling discomfort and raised an eyebrow with a smirk. “Let’s work together—if you believe me, that is.”

“Work together?”

“If you didn’t already suspect Weiyao Technology, why would you bother listening to my nonsense here?”

Qin Yuezhang paused, then let out a sighing laugh after a long moment. “I did sense something was off, but I wasn’t quite at the point of suspicion yet. And… I was more than happy to sit here…”

His voice trailed off toward the end, almost like a whisper, causing me to lean closer, unsure if I had heard correctly. “What did you say?”

“Nothing.” Qin Yuezhang shook his head. “I’ve been to Qinzhou’s office. His beloved martial arts novels were placed on a shelf within easy reach, but they were already lightly coated in dust.”

“So?”

“They were meticulous in arranging everything, even the novels, but they overlooked Qinzhou’s personality. He was a very disciplined person, strict about separating work and personal life. Even if he brought novels into the office, he would never place them in front of professional books.”

I suddenly understood. “They tampered with Wei Qinzhou’s office.”

Qin Yuezhang nodded, sighing. “Now, can you tell me what you need from me in this… cooperation?”

I pretended to be convinced.

Truthfully, his reasoning wasn’t entirely credible. When someone died, their office became company property—it was normal for others to go through it.

I wasn’t sure if he genuinely suspected something or if this was just a ploy to gain my trust. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him—it was that I didn’t trust anyone. After all, in this world, the only person you could truly rely on was yourself.

But right then, I couldn’t achieve my original goal alone. And Qin Yuezhang was a ticking time bomb—he could expose my identity to Xu Anran at any moment. So I had to extend an olive branch first, show goodwill—or in other words, win him over.

Qin Yuezhang, I hope you won’t betray my trust.

I asked, “Before entering Blizzard, how much did you know about it?”

“I underwent training and have a general understanding of how it works.”

I idly fiddled with a blade of wild grass in front of me. “Did they tell you what a ‘Safety Gate’ is?”

“Safety Gate?”

His tone made it clear he didn’t know.

I said, “Blizzard isn’t as perfect as you think. It has a fatal flaw. Once a person’s full consciousness awakens within the Snowscape, there’s a significant risk.”

Qin Yuezhang looked up. “I know. Xu Anran mentioned that before. But they assured us they’ve already overcome that technical hurdle.”

I casually plucked the blade of edible wild grass and popped it into my mouth. Its sour, bitter taste spread instantly across my tongue.

“That’s not wrong. Once full consciousness is awakened, if something happens in the Snowscape, the person’s brain will suffer severe damage—potentially life-threatening.” I let the blade of grass linger between my teeth, sucking on it lightly. “They overcame this hurdle by creating the ‘Safety Gate.’ It’s like a parallel, tangible subconscious layer within the Snowscape. When consciousness is caught in chaotic currents, senior technicians can forcibly open their own ‘Safety Gate’ to seek refuge, using it as a bridge between reality and the Snowscape to successfully return their consciousness to their body.”

Perhaps my explanation hadn’t been clear enough. Qin Yuezhang’s brow furrowed tightly as he processed the information. “So, this Safety Gate is only available to Weiyao’s senior technicians and exists independently within the Snowscape. If danger arises, technicians can take shelter there.”

“Exactly.”

Qin Yuezhang immediately countered, “But how do you know this?”

This should have been considered Weiyao Technology’s trade secret. How would a street vendor like me know about it?

I smiled, answering with apparent sincerity, “Because Wei Qinzhou told me himself.”

The moment I finished speaking, Qin Yuezhang flatly denied it. “No, he would never tell you that.”

I was startled, surprised he didn’t buy it entirely.

Talking to a smart person did come with its own set of troubles.

“Based on Qinzhou’s professional ethics, he would never casually disclose such secrets to others.” Qin Yuezhang lowered his gaze, avoiding my eyes and inexplicably staring only at my lips.

“It’s not that I doubt your friendship. Many people have tried to pry into Weiyao’s core technical secrets. If Qinzhou couldn’t even keep his mouth shut, he would never have become a senior technician.”

I pursed my lips and decided to drop the act. “Fine, but I can’t tell you how I know. If you choose to believe me, we’ll cooperate. If you’d rather expose my identity, go ahead. But if you do, you’ll never learn the truth about Wei Qinzhou’s death.”

Without hesitation, Qin Yuezhang said, “I believe you.”

Did he really believe me? Unlikely.

But either way, cooperating with me now didn’t put Qin Yuezhang at a disadvantage. If I was the real culprit, I was already cornered—playing along with my little schemes wouldn’t hurt. If I wasn’t, then our goals aligned.

Though we both understood this tacitly, we still had to maintain appearances.

With his assurance, I put on a pleased expression, stood up, dusted myself off, and solemnly extended my hand. “Then, a successful partnership.”

Qin Yuezhang rose as well, gently gripping my hand, his voice deep and pleasant.

“A successful partnership.”

But after speaking, he didn’t let go.

Scorching heat spread from his palm to mine, surging through my veins and settling in my chest. That unsettling sensation returned.

“What’s wrong?” I exerted force to pull my hand free.

“Nothing.” Qin Yuezhang curled his fingers slightly, brushing against the air, then abruptly changed the subject with a bizarre question.

“That wild grass you’ve been chewing on for so long—does it taste good?”