Chapter 50 – Self-Awareness

The old house welcomed back its travel-worn owner.

Like most houses in Xuehua Village, the house I lived in was said to have been built by my father, Yan Ande, in his youth. Every stone brick, every blue tile bears his mark. The house isn’t large, only about 60 to 70 square meters, but it’s bright and open.

Having been uninhabited for three years, the roof was overgrown with weeds—some stubbornly alive, others already withered and drooping.

The wooden door creaked open with a push, and light flooded into the room.

Dust that had settled in the house was suddenly disturbed, swirling visibly in the beams of light as the air moved. At the same time, a musty smell rushed out.

“Cough, cough!” Qi Youxuan covered her mouth and nose, coughing violently. “So much dust!”

Gu Lanshan waved his hand in front of his face, his brows deeply furrowed. “Yan Ru, how long has it been since you came back? Ugh—what’s this… spiderwebs?!”

Gu Lanshan frantically pulled at the cobwebs clinging to him, his expression pained and disgusted.

Hmph, now he wouldn’t dare call this a “retirement paradise.”

Qin Yuezhang glanced around before his eyes met mine. I stood with my back to the three of them and raised an eyebrow slightly at him.

Qin Yuezhang immediately understood and said, “I used to live with my adoptive parents. Though it wasn’t far, I haven’t been back in a long time either.”

So Qin Yuezhang really did know about my past.

He truly didn’t trust me—he must have investigated me. I could easily imagine how my cowardly, heartless “adoptive father” must have rushed to distance himself from me.

Gu Lanshan asked, “If it’s been so long since you came back, what important thing could be left here?”

Qin Yuezhang feigned confusion. “I can’t say for sure, I really don’t remember… but the feeling is very strong.”

I chuckled inwardly. If Qin Yuezhang switched careers to acting, it might be a good path for him.

Xu Anran casually wiped a table, only to find his fingertips black with dust. He sighed helplessly and said with a bitter smile, “We should clean up first. Looks like we’re staying the night here.”

Gu Lanshan looked reluctant, but seeing his boss rolling up his sleeves to work, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse.

Since the house wasn’t large and we weren’t planning to stay permanently, just making it livable didn’t take much time. In the end, we decided Qi Youxuan would stay in my mother’s inner room, Qin Yuezhang and I would take the guest room, and Xu Anran and Gu Lanshan would sleep on the floor in the main hall.

It wasn’t that they were being considerate—Gu Lanshan had just lost three rounds of rock-paper-scissors in a row.

While we were cleaning, people kept peering in from outside. Some gathered in small groups, whispering after a glance, while others pretended to pass by casually, “absentmindedly” glancing inside while carrying farming tools.

By the time we finished cleaning, it was nearly evening. The house had long been without electricity, so Qin Yuezhang and I dug out some candles and lit a fire in the stove to boil water.

The kitchen stove wasn’t tall—it had been built to suit my mother’s height. The hollow stone firebox had an opening on the side for adding firewood, with a pot resting on top.

Qin Yuezhang, tall and broad-shouldered, sat on a tiny stool, looking like he was hugging his long legs as he crouched by the stove, pitifully stuffing firewood into the firebox.

“Cough, cough!” A puff of soot drifted out, making him jerk back.

I couldn’t take it anymore and walked over, looking down at him. “I’ll tend the fire. You watch the water.”

Qin Yuezhang looked up, his eyes damp from the coughing, making me want to touch them. He knew he was out of his depth here and quickly stood, handing over the critical task of fire-tending to me.

I glanced into the stove—the firewood was almost burned out, the flames nearly extinguished—and hurriedly added a bundle of dry kindling.

The wood crackled and popped as the flames consumed it, like a lament.

Qin Yuezhang stood beside me, brushing off the soot on his clothes, and said softly, “You’re quite skilled at this.”

I didn’t even look at him. “If you’ve had to do this since childhood, to fend for yourself, it’s hard not to be.”

Qin Yuezhang was silent for a moment before asking, “Then why did you leave your adoptive parents’ home?”

My hand paused mid-motion, but I replied calmly, “The people there pointed fingers at me every day. I couldn’t stand it, so I ran away.”

Qin Yuezhang countered, “But aren’t the people here the same?”

From the moment we stepped into Xuehua Village, no one had been particularly friendly. My uncles, aunts, brothers, and sisters—they avoided me but still whispered about me.

What’s the difference? So why would I shamelessly come back here under these circumstances?

Qin Yuezhang repeated gently, “So, what really happened back then at your adoptive parents’ house that made you choose to run back here alone? Especially after staying with them for three whole years?”

After three peaceful years, he should have adapted to his new life. Why suddenly leave?

“You don’t understand,” I shook my head.

“I empathize with your experiences,” he said, deliberately emphasizing the word “empathize,” as if making a point.

Bang!

As he spoke, I shoved the firewood into the stove with force.

Perhaps the unpleasant memories made me irritable, or maybe Qin Yuezhang was just meddling too much. I stood up and said coldly, “What’s it to you?”

Qin Yuezhang froze, then explained, “I just wanted to—”

“What’s our relationship?” I cut him off sharply, tilting my head slightly to meet his eyes. “We’re just cooperating. Once we leave Snowscape, we’ll have nothing to do with each other. Why should I tell you anything?”

I was saying this to him, but also to myself. I didn’t need his pity—because worse than being pitied was accepting his pity, only for him to turn away without a second thought.

That would make me look pathetic, like a fool who tried to gain attention with their pain but failed in the end.

Qin Yuezhang’s face was still smudged with soot, making him look disheveled. Even more disheveled was the unconcealable disappointment and shock on his face after my words.

I didn’t want to dwell on what he was thinking or why he was disappointed. We were from different worlds—investing emotions in someone who could never truly connect with me wasn’t worth it.

But the atmosphere in the kitchen was suffocating. I turned to leave, only for his hand to clamp down on my shoulder.

“Yan Ru, are you a stone that can’t be warmed?” Qin Yuezhang’s voice turned cold, unlike his usual tone.

He was always rational and composed—I’d never heard him sound like this before, icy and barely restrained.

I tried to shake him off, but Qin Yuezhang didn’t let go. Instead, his grip tightened around my arm.

Anger surged in my chest, along with an indescribable bitterness. I glared at him. “Did I say something wrong?”

“After everything we’ve been through together, you still say we have no relationship? In your heart, am I just an inconvenient tool?”

“No!” I blurted out.

A flicker of light appeared in Qin Yuezhang’s eyes, and I met it with a bright, slow smile. “You’re a very convenient tool. If you weren’t, I’d have let you be crushed under the train wreck long ago.”

As soon as I finished speaking, the hand gripping my arm loosened.

For a moment, Qin Yuezhang’s face went blank—the light in his eyes extinguished instantly.

So this was what it felt like to crush someone.

My smile didn’t waver. “Oh, but I won’t let you leave Snowscape so soon. You said you empathize with my experiences? I’m thrilled. Taste the feeling of being isolated and despised by everyone, Consultant Qin. That was the whole point of bringing you into Blizzard in the first place.”

Qin Yuezhang, from the very beginning, you were the target of my revenge.

“‘You’?” Even now, he could still pick out the key point in my words. “Someone’s helping you—and they’re the one who brought me into Blizzard.”

If I kept talking, he’d surely guess who it was. I took a deep breath and turned to leave.

This time, Qin Yuezhang didn’t stop me. But just as I was about to step out the door, he murmured, as if sighing, “I just wanted to help you, Yan Ru.”

My steps faltered.

“Blizzard reveals the scars in people’s hearts—this is the wound you can’t move past. I just wanted to help…”

I said coldly, “I don’t need it.”

With that, I walked away without looking back.

I didn’t need his help, nor his pity.

I’m not a sentimental person. I admit, I had a fleeting moment of affection for Qin Yuezhang.

Maybe it was attraction at first sight, or maybe it was just an illusion born from this illusory blizzard.

He was too good to me—no one had ever been that good to me before.

But a person’s greatest virtue is self-awareness.