Winter Time Rendering

Chapter 174: Chapter 74: Friend or Foe

The girl with the high ponytail stood behind Zhang Shutong, her eyes downcast.

Zhang Shutong felt a sudden, inexplicable chill.

’When did she get here?’

’How can she walk without making a sound?’

Zhang Shutong immediately turned off his screen, leaning away and subconsciously putting some distance between them.

If he hadn’t known beforehand that it was a development plan, it would have taken him some time just to figure out what he was looking at.

Besides, there was no way someone could have been standing behind him for that long without him noticing. ’Does this mean Lu Qinglian figured out the location of her temple with just a single glance?’

’That’s just too strange.’

"I’ve seen this map before," Lu Qinglian said, not waiting for him to speak. It was as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

"What do you mean?"

"Gu Qiuyan’s father wanted to tear down the temple and develop it into a tourist attraction. His people came to talk to my grandmother, but she refused."

"So your family..."

Zhang Shutong wasn’t sure what she was getting at.

"I don’t agree either," the girl said coolly. "By the way, are you still investigating who has a grudge against Gu Qiuyan’s family?"

Zhang Shutong was taken aback.

"Are you suspecting me?" she asked again. Her tone hadn’t changed, but she didn’t give him a moment to breathe.

"...Of course not."

"Good. Best you don’t."

With that, Lu Qinglian seemed to lose all interest in the conversation.

She placed her bag on a desk and took out a neatly folded long robe. After putting it on, Zhang Shutong realized it wasn’t a fashion statement; she was wearing it as a warm coat because she was afraid of the cold.

Lu Qinglian flicked her ponytail and walked over to a cabinet in the office. She found an umbrella in the corner—one of those cheap, red-and-white promotional ones, probably a freebie with a purchase. Folded up, he could vaguely make out an ad for some kind of beer. It was likely a communal umbrella for the teachers.

"Where’s Teacher Song? I’d like to borrow an umbrella," the girl asked.

"He had to step out."

"Then please tell him for me when he gets back. Thanks."

With that, Lu Qinglian left.

Zhang Shutong remained seated, watching until her figure vanished from the office doorway. Her footsteps were indeed light, quickly swallowed by the sounds of students passing by in the hall.

Zhang Shutong picked up his water glass but didn’t drink. After a moment, he set it back down.

’Just as I thought.’

’It’s connected to the Cyan Snake Temple.’

Back on the rooftop, the reason he hadn’t pressed Lu Qinglian further was that he couldn’t get a read on her.

His thoughts returned to the tattoos on his arm.

A snake, a small figure, and an eye.

’The snake is the Cyan Snake Temple, the small figure is the Temple Priestess...’

This all but confirmed his suspicions.

He frowned, thinking about the three tattoos.

’Wait, when did I find out about these three symbols again?’

Zhang Shutong recalled Du Kang’s words at the Lake Fish Restaurant. Back then, he had only been focused on asking them what the circle meant, but Du Kang had said:

"...I remember the police had sealed off everything related to the case back then. You pleaded with Officer Xiong and finally managed to get a photo. Then you drew this thing. We asked you what it meant, and you just said it was a clue from the killer..."

Only then did Zhang Shutong realize a detail he had overlooked.

The "circle" was a clue from the killer, but that didn’t necessarily mean all three symbols were.

The three symbols had to be related somehow, which was why he’d always assumed he discovered them all at the same time.

’But now,’ he thought, ’that might not be the case.’

He had found the circle not long after Gu Qiuyan’s murder. But at the time, Ruoping and Du Kang hadn’t reacted to the snake and the small figure. That must mean he had only told them about the circle—or rather, that he had *only* discovered the circle back then.

The three symbols weren’t discovered at the same time.

The snake and the small figure came later.

Zhang Shutong raised his left arm. He closed his eyes, visualizing the positions of the three tattoos.

From left to right, they were:

The Cyan Snake, the small figure, the eye.

People read from left to right as well.

So, subconsciously, he had been interpreting the symbols in that order.

Another reason was that the Cyan Snake and the small figure almost instinctively brought something to mind, while the circle offered no clues whatsoever.

But an idea suddenly struck Zhang Shutong. ’If the circle was discovered first, does that mean the Cyan Snake was last in the sequence?’

The eye, the small figure, the Cyan Snake.

’But would the order in which they were discovered really help catch the killer?’

He stood and walked over to the window, pushing it open a crack. The cold wind rushed against his face, and a chill ran through him.

On the athletic field below, parents were swarming in like bees, some holding umbrellas, others wearing raincoats. Students rushed out to meet them, and for a moment, the scene was a blur of intersecting figures. The once-pristine white snow was instantly trampled into a grayish-black slush, resembling a tattered, pockmarked quilt.

Amidst this tattered quilt of snow, Zhang Shutong even spotted Ruoping. Her father had come to pick her up. Ever the doting dad, he first took her schoolbag, then held an umbrella over her head while his other hand rushed to brush the snowflakes from her hair.

Zhang Shutong then remembered to check the messages from his friends. Ruoping had asked if he wanted a ride home with her. The latest message, from three minutes ago, read: "My dad just called. I’m heading down now. I’ll wait for you for a bit, so reply quick."

Du Kang and Qingyi had arranged to head home together. All three of his friends’ families had cars. Du Kang’s parents were tied up at the moment, so Qingyi’s dad was picking them both up. As he recalled, he was a gentle-looking man who wore glasses.

He scanned the area below the school building and spotted the two of them. Boys weren’t so fussy; they didn’t need their parents to meet them right at the entrance. They had simply put their bags on their heads for cover and were making a mad dash for the gate.

He quickly sent a reply, telling them he had other plans for today and that he’d see them tomorrow.

The crowd moved like a tide, washing away the thick layer of snow in the blink of an eye, leaving nothing behind. And in this turbulent scene, Zhang Shutong spotted a figure that didn’t belong.

The figure was holding a red-and-white umbrella, its surface wrinkled and printed with an ad for some beer. Sheltered beneath it was a girl in a cyan robe.

Amid the swirling wind and snow, Lu Qinglian merged into the crowd.

The surrounding chaos seemed to have nothing to do with her. Her steps were unhurried, yet she moved quickly.

Zhang Shutong watched the advertisement on the umbrella for a moment, tracking the red umbrella as it separated from the crowd, exited the school gate, and disappeared around a corner—in the direction of the mountain.

He pulled his gaze away and noticed the national flag on the flagpole hadn’t been taken down. It hung limply against the pole, sure to be a sheet of ice by morning.

Zhang Shutong closed the window.

He had three options now: the best, the mediocre, and the worst.

The best option was to find a new clue tonight—to figure out what really happened to Gu Qiuyan in the early hours of that Sunday—and then use the resources available to him to bring the killer to justice.

The mediocre option was to hide. It didn’t matter where, but leaving the island would be the safest bet.

The worst option was to wait for the killer to come to him. He could call Song, the police, and Gu Qiuyan’s family bodyguards, and not set foot outside the villa on Saturday. But this was the worst option for a reason: mobilizing that many people wouldn’t be easy.

Zhang Shutong went back to his classroom to pack his bag. On his way out, he happened to run into Song. Remembering the umbrella, he mentioned it to him.

Song Nanshan slapped his forehead. "Oh no," he said.

"I forgot to ask Qinglian to wait. With the snow this heavy, I should have given her a ride home... When did she leave?"

Zhang Shutong thought for a moment.

"A while ago."

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