Chapter 44 – Storm Clouds

Following the tradition of Weiyao Technology, every technician was assigned a work log to record daily tasks and technical issues encountered in Snowscape.

However, after Xu Anran became the Chief Technology Officer, Weiyao Technology entered an era of data uploading and sharing. Paper records became supplementary, only used in special circumstances, and gradually fell out of focus.

There was even a joke within Weiyao: “Who the hell still keeps a proper work log these days?”

At this moment, a thick work log lay on a clean wooden desk. Its kraft paper cover and slightly curled pages showed how frequently its owner had flipped through it. A casual brush of the hand sent the pages fluttering, revealing glimpses of black handwriting inside.

On the cover, three characters were elegantly penned in ink:

Wei Qinzhou.

This was Wei Qinzhou’s work log.

Opening the title page, there was an inscription written in the same bold and unrestrained handwriting—

“A breath of noble spirit, a swift wind across a thousand miles.”

He really hadn’t changed at all since childhood. The person tracing these words even smiled faintly.

Qin Yuezhang’s expression seemed to be questioning: Besides me, how many more allies do you have?

Who would ever complain about having too many allies? Was he really going to give me attitude over something so trivial?

Still, I was used to dealing with people’s displeasure. Winning Qin Yuezhang back over wouldn’t be hard at all.

“Miss Qi is your good brother Wei Qinzhou’s girlfriend,” I said.

Qin Yuezhang’s eyes immediately lit up, and the way he looked at Qi Youxuan was practically like seeing his brother’s widow.

Qi Youxuan shifted uncomfortably. “Just call me Xiao Qi, like you used to.”

Qin Yuezhang smiled, “Qinzhou mentioned you to me, but he never told me your name or even showed me a photo.”

Qi Youxuan lowered her head, her expression dimming.

Some things, even if fate had long decreed they would become lifelong regrets, were hard to truly care about when they happened. It was only in countless later recollections that they brought waves of remorse.

I said, “You asked me to help you protect Wei Qinzhou—that’s actually very simple.”

I sounded confident, but Qi Youxuan remained skeptical. “This might be your first time in Blizzard. You might not know that in Snowscape, if a researcher is willing, they can use their strong willpower to dominate the space. My and Gu Lanshan’s levels aren’t as high as Xu Anran’s. He might only need a thought to…”

Qin Yuezhang interjected, “Their motive is still to complete their mission. They might not truly be willing to harm their former colleague Wei Qinzhou.”

If they could do it once, why hesitate a second time? It seemed Qin Yuezhang didn’t fully believe my reasoning either.

Pretending not to notice, I added, “So as long as you—or rather, we—give them something they want to hear, there’d be no need to hide a body.”

Qi Youxuan suddenly understood, but then she glanced between Qin Yuezhang and me. “Since when were you two so in sync?”

Were we? Wasn’t this just normal thinking?

I exchanged a look with Qin Yuezhang. His brow twitched, but he didn’t meet my gaze, his cold profile still turned away.

For some reason, this stirred an inexplicable restlessness in me, like a reckless ant had crawled through my veins into my heart, darting around in search of an exit. It didn’t hurt, but the itch was impossible to scratch.

This feeling was strange. Maybe I just couldn’t understand why he was sulking when he’d already accepted Qi Youxuan.

Or maybe his profile was just too damn handsome, stirring up some inexplicable competitive instinct in my petty self, making me want to poke holes in it.

Afraid I might actually act on that impulse, I tossed aside the branch in my hand, brushed off the dust from my clothes, and said to Qi Youxuan, “I’ll go meet up with Xu Anran now. Don’t forget what you promised me.”

Qi Youxuan forced a faint smile. “If you can do it, I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

I hoped she’d keep her word.

“Where did you take Wei Qinzhou?” I asked.

“He and Wang Yuehan are wandering in the mountains. I’ve just been following from a distance.” Qi Youxuan sounded despondent. “Once they stray too far from the consciousness host, their projected actions lose meaning. They can’t actually get too far from us. The boss and Gu Lanshan know that, so they’ll find him sooner or later.”

Perhaps this sentimental girl had finally admitted that the characters in dreams were ultimately different from reality. Yet even knowing that, she still wanted to drown herself in this illusion—frankly, it was absurd.

“Then bring him back. Even if there’s danger, we’ll drag Xu Anran and Gu Lanshan into it. In front of us, they’ll have to maintain appearances. Besides, my control over Blizzard isn’t as strong as theirs. I’d struggle to handle things alone.”

Most importantly, if Qi Youxuan and Wei Qinzhou weren’t within my sight, I couldn’t guarantee when she’d finally reveal what I wanted to know.

There was nothing else to hold over her.

If she went back on her word, I’d have no recourse.

Qi Youxuan was the most crucial piece of this mission, the most unstable variable in my gamble.

As I turned my gaze, I met Qin Yuezhang’s subtle, inscrutable look—deep and unreadable, like light reflecting off stagnant water.

He’s seen through my real intentions. The thought flashed through my mind instantly.

But so what? I was doing this for everyone’s sake. To get justice for Wei Qinzhou, I’d staked everything I had—my dignity, reputation, and even my life.

Our goals were the same. He should be supporting me.

Thinking this, I beamed at him, my face relaxing into a smile. But Qin Yuezhang quickly turned his head away, refusing to meet my eyes.

I didn’t care what he thought. “Now you’ve got some explaining to do,” I said to him. “Otherwise, where’s the Senior Division researcher’s dignity?”

Qin Yuezhang asked, “What do you want me to say?”

The time we’d agreed on with Gu Lanshan was approaching. Pointing toward the campsite, I gestured for us to walk and talk. “Saying nothing at all would just make them suspicious. Since this is my alma mater, my home is actually very close by.”

Qin Yuezhang understood. “You want me to say that, subconsciously, the safest place to hide… is your home?”

“Yes.” I nodded, pointing vaguely toward a direction downhill—toward my hometown, where I hadn’t returned in years. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? Not too far from Xue City, and I can guarantee absolute safety. Of course, you can only give a general location. If they get an exact address and believe it, ending the expensive Blizzard System prematurely, we’ll be in trouble.”

I couldn’t leave Snowscape until my goal was achieved.

Qi Youxuan caught on instantly. “Then you mean…”

“No ‘then,'” I cut her off coldly. “Even if they really search my old home, they won’t find anything.”

I’d already said as much before.

On that train to Xue City, when I was still lost in the illusion of being Qin Yuezhang, I’d accidentally let it slip under Gu Lanshan’s relentless questioning.

If I were to hide something, I’d hide it where everyone could easily see it—but would never think to look.

I looked forward to the moment the answer was revealed, to the stunned, foolish expressions on everyone’s faces.

Ha! That would be hilarious!

Hiding it in my old home? Where’s the fun in that? The answer would be as dull as could be.

Qi Youxuan seemed to realize I wouldn’t tell her. She opened her mouth but ultimately said nothing.

We hadn’t walked far when the sky abruptly darkened. Instinctively looking up, we saw that the once-bright sun had been swallowed by dark clouds, now looming directly overhead like a massive black sword poised to strike.

The weather changed this fast?

Qi Youxuan paled in horror. “Oh no, a storm is coming!”

I wasn’t entirely familiar with Snowscape’s weather mechanics, but her fear seemed excessive.

Qin Yuezhang asked, “Does a storm have special significance here?”

Qi Youxuan’s face was ashen, her lips bloodless. “A storm… is the prelude to danger.”

Her voice trembled slightly as she tilted her head back helplessly, her shoulders slumping. A gust of wind from an unknown direction sent her hair whipping wildly.

“They’ve run out of patience. They’re making their move.”