Chapter 41 – Disappearance

The footsteps of the newcomer were heavy, the “clack-clack” echoes reverberating through the empty basement like a dull response.

He approached the freezer, first checking that the power socket was intact and there was no power outage. Then, he gently reached out and touched the freezer door.

The motion was tender, as if caressing something fragile, like touching a young child.

The icy sensation immediately transmitted from his fingertips, piercing through the skin and reaching deep into his heart, making his soul tremble along with it.

Cold—right to the core.

“Are you… cold in there?”

The man’s voice was hoarse, with a hint of choked-back sobs resonating in his chest.

The trailing notes of his words fell onto the cement floor like a drop of water hitting the desert—vanishing without a trace, without even an echo.

But of course, how could a cold machine respond to human emotions?

“Are you scared of the dark?” The man asked again, unconcerned that he was talking to himself.

“It must be dark and cold in there. You’ve always been afraid of the dark since you were little, but you’d never admit it.”

He bent down, pressing his face tightly against the freezer as if trying to pass through this unfeeling machine to embrace a warm body.

“But it’s okay, don’t be afraid. Soon, very soon, we’ll get justice for you.”

Wei Qinzhou’s disappearance was definitely not that simple.

He should have gone with Wang Yuehan to report to the police, but he would have at least informed the others first—he wouldn’t have just silently vanished.

Xu Anran and the other volunteer teachers were organizing the students, ensuring they didn’t descend into chaos. In their earlier application to the school, they had promised to safely return the students this morning.

“Where’s Yan Ru?” A sudden weight fell on my shoulder. I turned to see Gu Lanshan, who had appeared behind me at some point.

I said, “Still in the tent.”

Gu Lanshan grinned. “Where did you two go last night to bond? I saw you heading into the woods—didn’t want to interrupt your little rendezvous.”

As he spoke, he nudged my chest with his shoulder, winking as if I’d been sneaking off to meet a beauty.

I replied, “Just chatted a bit, nothing much.”

Gu Lanshan’s expression stiffened. “Consultant Qin, you’ve been getting so close to him lately—haven’t you gotten anything out of him?”

I shook my head.

“Like where he most wants to go, where he feels safest, where he’d most likely dig a hole if he had to bury a body?”

I sighed in exasperation. “He’s tight-lipped. He won’t say anything.”

“Ah!” Gu Lanshan shrugged and sighed. “I knew it. We can’t stay passive like this—we have to take the initiative.”

Take the initiative? Meaning they had another plan now?

Gu Lanshan said, “Even though his subconscious has strong defensive tendencies, people always slip up when they’re flustered. The more panicked, the more mistakes they make.”

“Does this have to do with Wei Qinzhou?”

Gu Lanshan clapped his hands in satisfaction. “Exactly! This is the brilliant idea Boss and I came up with after burning the midnight oil.”

“What idea?”

Gu Lanshan smiled mysteriously. “What if there’s a ready-made corpse that needs hiding right now?”

As his words landed, fine goosebumps rose on my skin, sending a chill through my entire body.

Had they—had they killed Wei Qinzhou again?

“Hey, don’t look at me like that!” Gu Lanshan raised his hands. “Everyone in Snowscape, including us, isn’t actually alive. These are just projections from Yan Ru’s subconscious, facilitated by Blizzard.”

“You’re saying all this is fake?”

“Purposefully eliminating unnecessary subconscious projections is a common method we’ve used before when treating patients. It’s really no big deal. I know you and Wei Qinzhou are good friends, but loyalty has its limits, right?”

Gu Lanshan’s words made it seem as though disagreeing would brand me as someone who prioritized personal feelings over the greater good.

Though he was usually quite foolish, he was surprisingly skilled in the art of persuasion.

Gu Lanshan slung an arm over my shoulder again, pulling me close in a show of camaraderie. “Besides, if you can’t bear it, do you think we can? Wei Qinzhou and I were colleagues—we shared drinks together a few times.”

It was strange—I didn’t mind Qin Yuezhang’s closeness, but when Gu Lanshan acted this familiar, I felt inexplicably irritated.

I pulled his arm away and said seriously, “If you can’t bear it, then who’s going to do it?”

“We don’t need to do anything ourselves.” Gu Lanshan grinned smugly. “In Snowscape, just a small subconscious thought can trigger all sorts of things—landslides, earthquakes, tsunamis, lightning strikes, or even terrorist attacks… Who knows?”

I understood. In Snowscape, they could essentially do whatever they wanted because no one knew the rules here better than they did.

I asked, “Then where did you take Wei Qinzhou?”

Gu Lanshan blinked. “Huh?”

“Didn’t he disappear?”

“We haven’t done anything yet—we were just discussing the plan with you first.” Gu Lanshan scratched his head. “He probably went off with that NPC named Wang-something to do something. But that doesn’t make sense either…”

A beat later, Gu Lanshan finally realized something, exclaiming, “Subconscious projections can’t actively and independently detach from the main subject for long. He shouldn’t have been gone this long!”

It was like the characters we encounter in dreams—they only “exist” because of our brain activity while dreaming. Once we leave them in the dream, they stop existing.

Before Gu Lanshan could finish speaking, Xu Anran walked toward us.

He had clearly overheard our conversation and looked at Gu Lanshan with satisfaction. “You finally realized.”

Like all workers who turn mute in front of teachers and shrink into quails when facing their bosses, Gu Lanshan forced an awkward smile. “Boss.”

Xu Anran nodded at me in greeting before addressing Gu Lanshan. “You’ve already passed the preliminary selection for senior technician, but you still need to pay more attention to details. Look again—who else is missing from Snowscape?”

At this, Gu Lanshan perked up, straightening his posture as he scanned the surroundings. I also glanced around, my gaze sweeping over the faces of the students and teachers.

It was her!

My heart jolted as I suddenly realized—not only was Wei Qinzhou missing, but Qi Youxuan was nowhere to be seen either!

“Ah!” Gu Lanshan slapped his thigh and shouted, “Where’s Xiao Qi?!”

Xu Anran remained unhurried, showing no urgency. “Your own teammate is missing, and you only just noticed now?”

Gu Lanshan said, “I’ve worked with Xiao Qi before—she’s always efficient and decisive. But this time, I don’t know if she’s unwell or just off her game—she’s been slacking and barely noticeable…”

“Perhaps the answer to that isn’t so difficult.” Xu Anran lowered his voice, then turned to me with an apologetic smile. “Consultant Qin, I’m truly sorry you had to witness our unprofessional side.”

I smiled understandingly. “It’s fine. Every team has its own dynamics. If my involvement can help in any way, I’d be honored.”

Gu Lanshan quickly interjected, “Boss, are you saying you know why Wei Qinzhou and Qi Youxuan disappeared together?”

“More like Qi Youxuan took Wei Qinzhou away.” Xu Anran still showed no signs of panic but glanced at me. Gu Lanshan immediately understood—this was company business, not something an outsider like me should know.

“Let’s find them first. We’ll discuss the rest later.” Xu Anran made the final call.

I tactfully pointed behind me. “I’ll search this way. Whether I find anything or not, I’ll meet you back at the camp by noon.”

Even if they didn’t say it, I knew why Qi Youxuan had taken Wei Qinzhou.

It seemed those blood-stained roses scattered earlier hadn’t been meaningless after all.

They had caught the attention of many idle onlookers—and drawn the most important woman right to me.

Qi Youxuan—so it was you.