Chapter 56 – As Before

Xie Ning had graduated from the police academy and had been working diligently in her role as a police officer for six years up until now.

Six years was enough to change many things.

When she first started, she was just as passionate and self-assured as Meng Yi. She imagined herself tackling major cases every day, eager to root out crime and let warm sunlight spread over every inch of the land.

But reality seemed far removed from her ideals.

Every day, she had to deal with countless trivial matters—neighborhood disputes, street fights, drunken brawls, marital conflicts… even lost pedestrians.

Once, a child even called in crying, asking how to tie their shoelaces!

The profession of a police officer was naturally branded with the label of being omnipotent and upholding justice.

To say she never experienced burnout would be a lie. She was human, not some eternally enthusiastic and idealistic shounen manga protagonist.

Later, Xie Ning voluntarily applied to work in archives management, treating it as a transitional period for herself.

Then, she received a strange order—to organize missing persons cases from the past thirty years in Xue City and its surrounding areas.

Her long-dormant professionalism and innate occupational instincts made Xie Ning realize something was amiss.

Over those thirty years, the number of missing persons cases in Xue City was significantly higher than in other cities.

This was absolutely no coincidence.

The more Xie Ning organized, the more alarmed she became, and a question arose in her mind:

How had the issuer of this order—Lu Anchi, Director of the Xue City Public Security Bureau—noticed this pattern?

What was his purpose in compiling these cases now?

Among these missing persons cases was Fu Xiaoling, the victim of the Highway Schoolgirl Sudden Death Case from twelve years ago… There was an unclear yet inextricable connection to Yan Ru’s recent Rose Murder Case.

Xie Ning’s heart was unsettled. She hadn’t yet pieced together the exact links, but her instincts told her something big was about to happen.

Qin Yuezhang had decided to follow Yan Yan’er.

This decision didn’t surprise me—after all, he was such a soft-hearted person.

Back then, Yan Yan’er had also been at elder’s house, gripping my hand while tears streamed down her face as if they cost nothing. She alternated between lamenting the hardships of her life and endlessly apologizing with a tear-streaked, ugly face.

Anyone who saw her would have softened with sympathy.

Except for me at the time.

My home had already been burned to the ground, but it didn’t matter—I could rebuild it myself. My father, Yan Ande, had once built a shelter for himself with his own hands.

I would rather be homeless than return to that so-called “new home.”

Later, due to special circumstances, I applied to live at the school dormitory long-term. Xuehua Village already had many left-behind children, so there were plenty of kids who didn’t go home during holidays. Naturally, the school had no reason to reject me.

The last time I saw Yan Yan’er, her face was sallow, her hair frizzy and disheveled, tied into a loose little bun at the back of her head.

“Go home,” I said, frowning at her through the school’s iron fence.

Yan Yan’er stared at me with that unconsciously pitiful expression: “I’ll come see you, Xiao Ru. If you need money, you can… you can tell me.”

I scoffed and turned away.

Was she pitying me? Or trying to make amends? Whatever it was, I neither needed nor wanted it.

She never kept her promise to visit me again—not even once. It wasn’t hard to guess—Chen Dahong wouldn’t have allowed her to see me.

I wasn’t disappointed.

How could I be?

I had long since told myself that as long as I didn’t hold onto hope, I would never be disappointed.

As for money, she did send me some a few times through others—small amounts, wrinkled bills with black creases, carrying the unmistakable stench of grease and smoke.

They looked like ancient relics that had been circulating in the market for centuries.

I could even imagine, from the smell alone, how she had struggled to scrape together those few hundred yuan.

But I didn’t refuse the money.

Who would refuse money?

I took a deep breath and looked up at Qin Yuezhang. Only then did I notice that he had been staring at me the whole time—his gaze sticky, sending shivers down my spine.

“What are you looking at?”

Qin Yuezhang said, “I thought you were angry.”

I smirked. “Why would I be?”

“You don’t like her. The moment she appeared, you’ve been avoiding her.”

He had even noticed that.

It was true—the second I saw Yan Yan’er, I had instinctively pulled Xu Anran aside to talk.

I hadn’t even realized it myself, but that was indeed avoidance.

“Is this the occupational instinct of a psychologist?”

“No. It’s my own instinct.”

The second half of his sentence was spoken softly, but the wind carried it clearly to my ears.

What did he mean by that?

My heart skipped a beat. With a half-smile, I said, “I don’t like ambiguity, and I don’t like wishful thinking. What you just said—”

“Everything’s packed. Let’s go.”

Before I could finish, Xu Anran happened to walk over. He slung a cloth bag over his shoulder, eyeing us meaningfully. “What’s going on? Arguing?”

I replied, “…Nothing.”

Yan Yan’er was behind him. I didn’t want to see her, so I turned and left immediately.

As I turned, my peripheral vision caught Qin Yuezhang lifting a hand as if to grab me—but he lowered it again when he noticed Yan Yan’er.

Yan Yan’er reached out and anxiously clutched Qin Yuezhang’s arm. “Xiao Ru, you’re not backing out, are you? Did you and your friend have a fight?”

With my back to them, I couldn’t see Qin Yuezhang’s expression, but his voice carried clearly.

“No. He and I are fine.”

“That’s good! You’ve always been solitary—I’ve never seen you make friends before. I’m… really happy you invited them to visit.” Yan Yan’er rambled on, as if afraid Qin Yuezhang would disappear the moment she stopped talking.

Xuehua Village was divided into several smaller hamlets, bluntly referred to as the “Inner Village” and “Outer Village.” Though both were remote, the Outer Village at least had roads—even if vehicles couldn’t drive all the way in, it was still much more accessible.

The rural cement roads were always littered with footprints—human and animal alike—as if they took pleasure in ruining others’ hard work at the worst possible moments.

I had never known Yan Yan’er to be so talkative. Her endless chatter reminded me of my mother. Even someone as smooth-tongued as Qin Yuezhang couldn’t get a word in.

But soon, I realized something was wrong with our surroundings.

On either side of the road, there should have been carefully divided farmland, crops swaying freely in the wind. Occasionally, there would be a few ponds, floating with dead fish or duckweed, reeking of fishy odors. But now, the farmland was gone, the ponds had vanished—replaced by rows of evergreen trees.

The leaves of these trees were a green so dark it verged on gray. Not for any strange reason, but simply because passing vehicles kicked up dust. The airborne grime clung to the leaves, and over time, the trees became grimy and dull.

I stopped in my tracks.

Blizzard dredged up the deepest scars in people’s hearts—it moved backward along the timeline.

The malicious speculations on the train had truly happened.

The bullying at Xuehua Middle School had truly happened.

The tragedy with the volunteer teachers had truly happened.

And me, watching helplessly as my home burned to ashes—that had truly happened too.

So now, which scar was it trying to reopen?

This wasn’t the road leading to the Outer Village.

Instead, it was a stretch of highway I both despised and knew all too well.

“Consultant Qin?” Xu Anran asked, noticing my expression.

I didn’t have the energy to deal with him.

I already knew what was coming next.

My gaze shifted forward. The woman standing beside Qin Yuezhang—that wasn’t Yan Yan’er at all!

She wore thin cloth clothes, the fabric tenting slightly over her protruding spine from how thin she was. Her hair was cut short, uneven in places—the shortest sections nearly exposing her scalp.

At the Xuehua Village market, there were vendors who specialized in buying hair. When they cut it, they used little tricks. Even if the seller repeatedly emphasized—”only cut this much”—they would still angle the scissors deeper, scraping for more.

Because that way, they could collect more hair.

They couldn’t care less what the seller’s hair ended up looking like.

In a daze, I was transported back to when I was eight years old. My mother had taken me to the market to sell her hair. That day, she was overjoyed—after growing it out for five years, she got a hundred and fifty yuan for it.

She counted the money three times before finally remembering to look in the mirror. Of course, she couldn’t see the back of her head, jagged and uneven. She just kept repeating, “So good, so good! A free haircut and money too! Xiao Ru, Mom will buy you toasted sesame cakes!”

And now, that bag of toasted sesame cakes was dangling from her hand.

I thought to myself—Blizzard was truly a vicious thing.