Chapter 45 – Rainstorm

A pair of wrinkled hands continued flipping through this crucial and significant logbook.

Not only did it record Wei Qinzhou’s work content, insights, and doubts, but occasionally, it also contained a few lines of his thoughts on life and love.

These were the writings of a young, vibrant man full of boundless passion and longing for life.

Unfortunately, one never knows whether tomorrow or an accident will come first.

At least, as far as this logbook is concerned, its owner would never write anything in it again.

Plop!

A drop of transparent liquid fell vertically onto the page, instantly spreading into a wrinkled, translucent circle.

The hands hurriedly moved to salvage it but nearly tore the fragile paper.

Rainstorm—the precursor to danger.

A sudden chill hit the top of my head. Instinctively, I reached up to touch it—cold and wet, a single drop of clear rain.

I looked up, and endless arrows of rain poured down, surging as if a dam had burst.

This was far too sudden!

We took shelter under a tree, but the dense foliage was completely useless against the storm. In no time, we were drenched like three fools.

From start to finish, it had taken mere seconds.

Boom—

The sky curdled into an ominous grey, suffocating the sun until day looked like midnight. A flash of lightning split the horizon, followed by a deafening thunderclap that shook the earth.

The ground trembled under the terrifying sound, and the surrounding trees and forests swayed helplessly, as if submitting to the overwhelming force of nature.

Strangely, the rain seemed to carry an invisible weight. Once it soaked into our skin, our bodies instantly felt heavier.

The torrential downpour blurred everything in sight. I wiped the rainwater from my face, but it was futile. I had no choice but to say, “Let’s find shelter! Standing under a tree in a storm is just asking to get struck!”

Qin Yuezhang said, “I noticed a cave not far ahead when I came here. I’m not sure how deep it is, but it should be enough to keep us dry.”

“Then let’s go!”

Qin Yuezhang took off his jacket and tried to drape it over my head. In this kind of storm, clothing wouldn’t do much.

But something was better than nothing. I turned and handed the jacket to Qi Youxuan instead. “You cover yourself. The two of us can handle it!”

Qi Youxuan took the jacket without hesitation, pulling it over her head before charging ahead.

I turned to leave but noticed Qin Yuezhang’s handsome face had darkened considerably.

“Let’s go!” I grabbed his arm and followed Qi Youxuan.

Battling against the damned “waterfall,” we followed the direction Qin Yuezhang had pointed out. Sure enough, after a short while, we found a dark cave entrance on the sloping hillside.

The mouth of the cave was overgrown with weeds that reached up to our calves, now flattened by the rain, looking as bedraggled as we were.

We rushed inside. Though the rain couldn’t reach us here, that intangible pressure clung to us like a stubborn shadow.

Frowning, I said, “This rain makes it hard to breathe.”

Qi Youxuan clutched her chest, her heavy breaths almost echoing in the cave. “I feel it too.”

Qin Yuezhang, standing guard at the entrance, adjusted his clothes and hair. “It’s like a predator in nature—first locking onto its prey, using overwhelming pressure to paralyze them before moving in for the kill.”

I snapped, “Forget about that for now. There’s no one else here, so stop fussing with your hair!”

Qin Yuezhang’s hand froze mid-air, and he turned to look at me.

Behind him was the arched cave entrance, the dim light framing his silhouette like a halo. The continuous rain formed a curtain of beads. Even soaked to the bone, even with his hair dripping wet, he didn’t look the least bit disheveled.

Somehow, I was reminded of bamboo in the rain—or fragile porcelain.

Why would he resemble porcelain? That comparison was exaggerated and baseless.

Perhaps my expression was too foolish, because Qin Yuezhang glanced down at himself before raising his eyes to meet mine. His voice was low and rough as he asked casually, “What’s wrong?”

I immediately averted my gaze. “Nothing. You look good even when you’re a mess, so stop making me feel like a slob.”

He finally stopped fussing. Judging by his expression, I guessed his mood wasn’t too bad. He sat down not too far from me, still keeping his profile turned my way.

Was he still upset that I hadn’t consulted him before approaching Qi Youxuan? Or was he unhappy that I’d used his jacket to do her a favor?

Surely not. He wasn’t that petty.

Thinking back carefully, I realized that recently—ever since we laid our cards on the table, or even earlier, I couldn’t quite remember—he’d been facing me sideways more often.

When I was a child, I’d read in a book that avoiding eye contact often meant hidden disdain.

That had to be it. After our confrontation, he’d stopped pretending. Maybe Qin Yuezhang genuinely looked down on someone like me, but with no other options, he was forced to stick with me.

We were from different worlds, after all. He was a rising star in psychology, renowned worldwide. I was a street vendor who’d get thrown out by security if I tried to attend one of his lectures.

And I was also the prime suspect in the murder of his closest friend.

The thought inexplicably ignited a fire in my chest, burning away some of the chill.

If he looked down on me, fine. I wouldn’t beg for his approval.

I abruptly stood up and took two steps closer to Qi Youxuan.

This time, it was Qin Yuezhang’s turn to stare at me with surprise and something unreadable.

As I moved, Qi Youxuan shot a strange glance between the two of us. But her heart was elsewhere, so she didn’t comment. Instead, she turned and walked to the cave entrance, her petite back facing us as she anxiously watched the storm.

Her soaked ponytail drooped like a defeated dog’s tail.

The rain showed no sign of stopping.

With every passing minute, there was a chance Xu Anran had already succeeded.

Qi Youxuan couldn’t take it anymore. She murmured, “No, I have to find him!” and dashed into the rain.

“Hey!” I jumped to my feet. “Do you even know where he is?”

Qi Youxuan turned back, still retreating. “He won’t be too far from us! I can’t just stand by and wait again, doing nothing!”

With that, she sprinted into the woods.

I couldn’t stay put either. “I have to go with her.”

Qin Yuezhang didn’t object, only giving a low hum of acknowledgment.

Qi Youxuan rushing out like this was far too dangerous. This was deep in the mountains, with slippery paths and relentless rain—anything could happen.

I didn’t care about her life. Even if she died in reality, it wouldn’t affect me. In fact, I might even be happy for her—after all, she could reunite with Wei Qinzhou.

But now was different. If she died in Snowscape, returning to reality, there was no guarantee she’d ever come back.

Then no one would tell me what I needed to know. All my efforts up to this point would be for nothing.

So, even if she wanted to throw her life away, she’d have to wait until I gave her permission.

The rain had lightened slightly, at least enough to see the path ahead.

The lush foliage, washed clean by the rain, now glowed a deep green. Every leaf seemed saturated with water, swaying on their branches.

We quickly caught up to Qi Youxuan.

As they say, fear makes people reckless. She was darting around like a headless fly, stumbling left and right, oblivious to her surroundings. Her foot sank into a patch of rain-softened mud, nearly getting stuck as her body lurched forward from the momentum.

She struggled to get up immediately, but her foot was buried deep, as if the mud had wrapped around it like shackles. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t free herself.

We rushed over and pulled her up from either side.

“Are you okay—”

Before I could finish, I realized she was crying.

It was a stifled kind of crying—the kind where someone tries to stay strong, not wanting to disturb others or even themselves, so they keep their lips sealed, not making a sound.

Only the occasional shudder of her shoulders, the violent rise and fall of her chest, and her reddened eyes betrayed her.

With the rain washing over her face, she looked absolutely pitiful.

Her body was weak and trembling, relying entirely on Qin Yuezhang and me to stay upright.

This girl, who had always seemed so resilient, had finally broken down after a single fall.

Choking back sobs, she pushed our hands away. “I’m fine, I… I just miss him so much. It’s been two months since I last saw him. I really, really miss him.”

For Qi Youxuan, Wei Qinzhou’s death had never felt real. To her, it was as if he had simply vanished one day, only for the news of his brutal murder to follow.

But there was no body, no proof. How could she believe it?

My experience comforting emotionally distraught girls was practically zero. At a loss, I shot Qin Yuezhang a pleading look, silently begging him to say something.

In response, he gave me a helpless glance before turning his face away.