Chapter 49 – Returning Home

They say that roads are made by walking.

This saying fits Xuehua Village perfectly—you never know where a foot-worn path might appear in some forgotten corner.

We followed a narrow dirt trail downhill, cutting through a bamboo grove nestled in the mountain’s shadow. No one knows who owns this bamboo forest, but it’s clear no one tends to it. The ground was thick with fallen leaves.

As the path curved, the bamboo thinned, and suddenly, the view opened up. We found ourselves behind someone’s house.

It was a typical rural home, simple and crude compared to the city. The main structure was built of neatly stacked stones, coated with a mixture of mud and straw. The roof was tiled with orderly rows of dark green tiles.

Houses like this were everywhere in the village.

“So rustic!” Gu Lanshan exclaimed.

The winding paths connected every household like veins in a body. Behind one home was another’s front yard and courtyard.

Suddenly, a boy of about thirteen or fourteen burst out of a house. The moment he saw us, his cheerful expression twisted into shock, as if he’d seen a ghost. He turned and ran back inside, shouting,

“Mom! Oh no, oh no! Yan Ru’s back!”

His voice cut off abruptly. Then, a middle-aged woman with sallow skin stepped out, wearing an oil-stained apron. She leaned against the doorframe, arms akimbo, and squinted at us.

“Yan Ru, what are you doing back? Didn’t that Chen guy take you away to live the good life?”

Qin Yuezhang didn’t respond, simply lowering his head as if to walk past.

The woman, noticing this, bent down and said to the boy beside her—just loud enough for us to hear—”When you grow up, don’t do bad things, you hear? Otherwise, you’ll be hated wherever you go.”

The boy gave a firm “Mm!”

“What kind of adoption is that? More like sending him back like a faulty product!” The woman scoffed, smoothing back her hair with a smirk. Her face was alight with the thrill of gossip.

Rural life was dull, after all. People needed a long-lasting topic to chew on during their idle hours, something to pass the tedious, uneventful days.

I glanced at them indifferently and was about to turn away when I bumped into Qin Yuezhang’s back.

The village paths were narrow—wide enough for one person comfortably, but cramped for two walking side by side. Our group moved in single file.

“Why’d you stop?” I asked. There were no forks in the path, so I wasn’t worried Qin Yuezhang had lost his way.

Slowly, Qin Yuezhang turned to face the woman by the door. In a measured tone, he asked, “So, what exactly did I do wrong?”

The woman faltered, her face blank for a split second.

“You—” She fumbled, convinced she wasn’t wrong, as if conceding even a word would mean losing this verbal spar. “Everyone knows what you’re like! Your father was that kind of man, and I bet you’re just like him!”

Her voice was shrill, edged with irritation, grating on my nerves.

“Let’s go,” I said, nudging Qin Yuezhang.

Xu Anran’s gaze swept over all of us thoughtfully, his dark eyes unreadable. Whatever he was thinking, he kept it to himself.

Gu Lanshan opened his mouth but swallowed his words.

For the first time, I saw something resembling stubbornness on Qin Yuezhang’s face. The corners of his mouth tightened as if suppressing emotion. Instead of moving on, he stood his ground, as serious as when he delivered psychological research reports at Xue City University.

“So you’re condemning me now for crimes you imagine I might commit in the future—even though I haven’t done anything wrong at this moment.”

I haven’t done anything wrong.

Qin Yuezhang’s voice was low and smooth, like the sound of some instrument I couldn’t name. Each word struck like a sudden summer downpour—unexpected, impossible to evade.

Before we began our plan, someone once asked me why I was doing this. Was it really worth going to such lengths for someone who was already dead, whom I hadn’t seen in ten years, someone who wasn’t even a friend?

I didn’t answer then.

What was I chasing? What did I want to achieve? I had an answer in my heart, but at the time, I couldn’t put it into words.

I only knew I had to do this.

But now, in this very moment, it suddenly became clear.

After learning the truth, I had been so desperate to take revenge on everyone. I wanted to tear away the hypocritical veils, to see the fools realize they’d been deceived. But in reality, all of it—everything I did—was just to prove one thing: I never did anything wrong.

It was pitiful, really. In my life, I hated nothing more than having to prove my innocence, yet here I was, trapped in this vicious cycle.

I never imagined the first person to acknowledge that I’d never done anything wrong would be Qin Yuezhang.

Or rather, I never thought there could be someone who truly understood the unspeakable hardships of my life.

For some reason, I remembered the ruins of the train, the starry night at Xuehua Middle School, when we relied on each other to survive. Back then, he had quietly comforted me too.

Was this just his professional instinct as a psychologist, or was it truly…

What was real? What was illusion?

Under the Blizzard, perhaps everything was illusory—yet every recreated moment from the past had once been real.

And the pounding of my heart right now was real too.

The woman rolled her eyes, yanked her son inside, and slammed the wooden door shut with a loud bang, making their unwelcoming stance perfectly clear.

Gu Lanshan rubbed his nose. “Why so hostile? Even if they’re not family, they’re still neighbors.”

Xu Anran sighed deeply. “A parentless boy is the easiest target for everyone’s bullying. Venting their anger and life’s frustrations on him is the cheapest, most consequence-free option.”

“Let’s go,” I said, poking Qin Yuezhang’s back.

But he replied in a voice so low only I could hear, “I’m sorry.”

I froze, unsure why he was apologizing.

Qin Yuezhang didn’t explain. He just stepped forward along the path.

The village had two large ponds, one of which had been dug by my father, Yan Ande, in his youth. Many villagers washed clothes there, so it had been a boon to the community.

But now, his misdeeds still haunted the village, and everyone had forgotten the good he’d once done.

Beyond the pond lay a small patch of fertile land where my mother used to grow my favorite tomatoes. Our home stood just above it.

In rural areas, land ownership is fiercely guarded. Every plot has its nominal owner. Yet now, on this land that once belonged to my family—or technically still did—unfamiliar crops grew.

A straw-hatted man was working the field, his pant legs rolled up to reveal sun-weathered skin.

He looked up in surprise. “Yan Ru? What are you doing here? Didn’t Chen Dahong take you away?”

Qin Yuezhang was unfazed. “I brought friends to visit.”

The man set down his hoe, awkwardly wiping his hands on his pants. The wide brim of his hat cast his face in shadow.

“This land… Well, your family’s gone, so I figured I’d plant something here. No point letting it go to waste.”

As he spoke, his embarrassment faded, replaced by self-assurance.

Yes, this was exactly how it had been when I left my adoptive parents and returned to what was supposed to be my real home.

Like a virus, shunned and feared by everyone.