Chapter 61: "Spare Ribs" |
Zhang Shutong looked at the tattoo on his arm once more.
There was a snake, a small person, and...
A strangely shaped circular pattern.
Still reeling from the news of Gu Qiumian's death, he stared at it for a long time but couldn't make out what it was.
Du Kang had already shifted his gaze away, looking at Ruoping:
"You still remember it, right? This circular pattern."
Ruoping also looked at his arm with a complicated expression, lightly pressing her fingernail against his skin. After a long moment, she sighed:
"I never thought you'd actually have it tattooed."
Zhang Shutong was about to ask what the circle represented when he heard Ruoping continue:
"So after all these years, have you made any progress?" Ruoping slapped her forehead. "Never mind, don't answer that. I almost forgot you're basically mentally scrambled right now."
All the questions Zhang Shutong wanted to ask froze on his lips. Even they didn't know what his past self had discovered?
What did the three tattoos mean?
Who was this killer who suddenly appeared?
A discovery that made him break out in a cold sweat:
He'd dealt with Zhou Ziheng and his father on Saturday, assuming they were the killers, but were they really the ones who murdered Gu Qiumian back then?
Wait, something seemed completely wrong.
If Zhou Ziheng had instructed Li Yipeng to smash the castle to make his mother let slip about the "revenge," thereby provoking the arsonists into acting early and creating an opportunity for his father to escape...
Then in the original timeline where the "building blocks incident" never happened, how had his father managed to escape?
Zhang Shutong understood that man's personality well—he wouldn't act without absolute certainty. If that was the case, had his father actually acted back then?
No, different question: was he really the so-called "true killer"?
In the original timeline, it was highly likely that Zhou's father never got the chance to act before Gu Qiumian was killed by someone else.
Everything was wrong!
The shop had the air conditioning on, but in this moment Zhang Shutong felt like he'd fallen into an ice cave, because this meant he'd strayed from the correct answer from the very beginning, wandering further and further down the path of the Commercial Street dispute.
From start to finish! He'd never even found a trace of the real killer!
Zhang Shutong suddenly asked:
"Was her body discovered in the Forbidden Zone?"
Ruoping nodded, which stunned him again.
How was that possible?
With two bodyguards and a nanny present, Gu Qiumian had died in the Forbidden Zone?
"Then how did she get out there? Were the bodyguards and nanny harmed?"
"No." But Ruoping repeated that phrase again: "Everything related to that case was sealed back then."
He recalled Ruoping's tone—the two of them hadn't known about this tattoo before. But the graduation photo was taken in summer when everyone wore short sleeves with their arms exposed, and his past self in the photo showed no abnormality, meaning the tattoo happened after junior high graduation.
When exactly?
He pressed the edge of the tattoo—no pain, no itching, no swelling. The tattoo itself had faded, as if over the years it had long since merged with his skin, indicating it wasn't done recently.
Could it represent the turning point when Zhang Shutong changed his attitude and began pursuing the "killer"? So what happened after graduation that made him revive this obsession?
While he was at a loss, the table shook violently.
"Zhang Shutong, I just realized you're quite the devoted lover..." It was Du Kang suddenly standing up. He grabbed Zhang Shutong's collar. Having had some alcohol, his eyes were now a bit red.
Zhang Shutong could see the bloodshot veins in the other man's eyes. Du Kang stared back at his eyes just as angrily, teeth clenched:
"If that's the case, then why the hell did you go after Lu Qinglian?"
"I..."
Zhang Shutong didn't know what to say. Only now did he realize that in their eyes, his sins included not just deceiving everyone and harming Lu Qinglian, but also, two months after Gu Qiumian's death, acting as if nothing had happened and "seeking a new love."
Du Kang continued in a low growl:
"Fine, you're a good person, you never fucking forgot Gu Qiumian, you've been searching for the killer all these fucking years—then tell me, what did you take Lu Qinglian for? A tool to ease your grief? Someone to call when needed and dismiss when not? Tell me!"
"Du Kang, sit your ass down first! What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Even Ruoping was cursing now. She stood up and slammed the table:
"What the hell are you doing? Everyone drinks a little and starts losing their minds? Tell me, what can you do to him? He can't even remember his own name, so are you going to beat him up to get revenge for Qinglian or what?"
"I just want to hit him. He did all this shit back then, and now he pretends he doesn't remember anything and it's all fine?" But Du Kang didn't listen this time. He said viciously, "Besides, are you really sure he's not faking it? It's not the first time he's pretended, right? Always with that cold face, never crying, never smiling, not a shred of humanity. Right, we're all idiots, not as smart as you, can't figure out what you're thinking—so what the hell do you take all of us for?"
Du Kang turned back to question Ruoping:
"Did you see even a hint of sadness from him at the funeral home earlier?"
Ruoping froze at those words. Zhang Shutong noticed she seemed to glance at him instinctively, as if confirming his expression.
Zhang Shutong didn't know what she wanted to see. He only knew that this face of his had perhaps been stiff for too long, he wasn't even used to smiling anymore... so all she could be was disappointed.
Yet Ruoping's voice didn't sound disappointed. She just raised her voice, saying emotionally:
"Yes, no, there wasn't. I also think he's a bastard, a total bastard. You want to hit him, I won't stop you. But can you two stop losing your minds in front of me? After this meal we're done! Never see each other again!"
"I just want an explanation for why he became like this!" Du Kang also shouted.
"Qinglian is dead, what explanation do you want?"
"You think it's because I used to like Lu Qinglian? It's because of him! You know how I feel? Over and over trying to believe in him, over and over being disappointed, but still can't help..."
"You think I'm not?" Ruoping pointed at herself. "I'm telling you, I want it even more! You think you're the only one who can't let go of the past? Three days ago he suddenly called saying he had something to tell me, you know that? And then? Then you ask him if he even remembers?"
"That's why I told you all along he's a liar!"
"Then you still came today!"
"I wish I hadn't!"
"I wish I hadn't come either, what did I gain?" Ruoping's eyes actually turned red. "Did any of you consider me? You all forgot but I still remember. You think I don't know why I'm treating today, why I ordered these four dishes? You love fried shrimp, Qingyi loved the fish strips, and him, he's usually fine with anything, but back then he specifically ordered the braised spare ribs..."
"Of course I remember, otherwise how would I know these four dishes taste worse than before..."
"You shut up first!"
Her voice held back a sob as she bit her lip:
"Zhang Shutong, you've completely forgotten, treating everything you said like bullshit, but we all still remember. Didn't we agree at graduation to go to the city for school together and stay best friends forever? And what happened? One never even came back, one starts throwing punches after a little alcohol, and one disappeared for years and now doesn't even look human... You two big men, go ahead and fight, beat each other bloody for all I care. It's the last time we'll see each other anyway. After this fight, nobody contact anyone!"
With that, Ruoping buried her head on the table. They could hear her quiet, uncontrollable sobbing. Du Kang fell silent too, sitting down and lighting a cigarette without a word.
At that moment, the proprietress finally arrived late, carrying a ceramic pot in her hands, steam rising from inside.
It should have been served first, since this type of dish was already stewed in a large pot. The proprietress said apologetically:
"We're out of spare ribs. Is it okay if I switch it to braised pork?"
But none of the two men and one woman at the table responded. The proprietress's hands just hung there.
She seemed to be wondering how old classmates meeting up could become so tense. You all weren't like this before, you used to come to the shop for gatherings all the time... But today they were missing one person and one dish. Zhang Shutong actually didn't like spare ribs at all—he'd simply ordered them because they all loved eating it. Now he really wanted to taste what this dish from eight years ago was like, whether it had gotten worse than before. Nobody present was clearer or more impartial than him, because he'd eaten it just a few days ago.
But the braised spare ribs were gone.
Just then his phone rang. Zhang Shutong glanced at the name on the screen and fell silent.
He nodded to the proprietress, telling her to set it down, then got up and went to the counter to pay. This time he didn't need to ask where the payment code was, and he had enough money—after all, he hadn't found anywhere to spend what he'd earned these past years.
The payment went smoothly this time. Naturally, he didn't need that young lady to bail him out. He quickly returned to the table, picked up his windbreaker, and said softly:
"...Sorry."
But neither of them acknowledged him. Ruoping just kept her head buried in her arms, and Du Kang smoked his cigarette without speaking. He looked at them both one more time, then left the shop without looking back. By now it was dark outside. He walked along this surviving stretch of Pedestrian Street, calling back the number.
The contact was saved as "Su Yunzhi."
The call connected. Before Zhang Shutong could speak, a gentle female voice came from the other end:
"Have you eaten, Shutong?"
Zhang Shutong hummed in acknowledgment. Right now he had no mind to explore their relationship. If it was just couple's small talk, he'd give perfunctory responses and hang up.
But she said, "I've found everything you asked me to investigate. But that photo you mentioned is a bit tricky—I'll need a little more time. I can get it done before 9 o'clock though."
Zhang Shutong froze. Then the woman continued:
"Your former female classmate was killed because someone wanted to stop her father from developing the island. I saw this in the transcript, but I can't send it to you—I'll just tell you verbally."
So it was about Gu Qiumian.
But why had he asked this senior to handle it?
He seemed to have a vague recollection—the senior's parents worked in the public security system. Thinking of this, Zhang Shutong opened her Moments and discovered her current profession was a reporter for the city TV station.
"But you're probably going to be disappointed. Although this matter wasn't allowed to be disclosed back then, it wasn't because there was some deep conspiracy. It should have been out of consideration for her father's influence and the impact it would cause. It's pretty much as you deduced—just a murder case. The only puzzling point is how she got out at dawn, and I don't know why her father stubbornly refused to install surveillance..."
The woman sighed:
"Let the past stay in the past. After all, it's been eight years. You should do as you promised me—no matter what the outcome is, go change jobs. I just realized now, when I asked you what major you wanted in college, you said media because you wanted to be a reporter, so I went there to wait for you. Then you went and became a stay-at-home translator, which was really all for this case, wasn't it?
"Let's count it up—three years of high school, four years of college, a year and a half working. Just last month I got transferred to a new position where I could access this information. Did you even calculate all of this?
"Though you're probably not that scary, right? That would mean from the moment we first met, all these groundwork was already laid..."
She joked:
"My best friend warned me recently to watch out for this cold-blooded man. I said you weren't like that when we were in school—going shopping together, watching movies, I remember how exhausted you were every time... Even now thinking about it makes me laugh.
"But Shutong." At this point, she instinctively lowered her voice. "No matter what, I don't blame you, but you really can't go on like this. Are you on that island right now? Don't rush to leave, I'll come find you tomorrow..."
Zhang Shutong just said no need, I'll return to the city tomorrow.
"Smoke less." The woman added these few words of advice, then hung up on her own initiative.
Zhang Shutong put away his phone. He looked at the streetlights, still as dim as before, the glow dyeing the road surface yellow, and lit a cigarette.
The senior's appearance matched his memory—being with her felt like bathing in spring breeze, intellectual and gentle, never prying too much.
He glanced at his phone. It was just past 7 PM. These past few days he seemed to be constantly checking his phone, and the number seven felt familiar. Technology had advanced quickly—it was no longer that little thing that constantly ran out of battery or lost signal.
He knew he couldn't return to the Lake Fish Restaurant. It would only add to the sadness. Perhaps his absence was better for both of them.
But he seemed to have nowhere to go. The temperature was even lower at night. He was only wearing a windbreaker, and now one sleeve was also wet, so he hugged his left arm and wandered the street aimlessly.
Before he knew it, he'd walked to the school gates. The main gate used to open if you pushed hard enough—it still did now. But he didn't know whether he should go in. The Grade 9 Class 1 classroom had already seen eight rounds of graduates; it couldn't possibly look the same as before. And that library... he didn't know what the library would be like either.
Zhang Shutong wasn't planning to go in.
He kept walking alongside the school, suddenly realizing he had nothing he wanted to see. That cold, lonely home was long gone. The Base? Or somewhere else? Those places were too far—there were no taxis on the island, impossible to walk there on two legs.
So he decided to first find a shop to warm up in.
The street scene was similar to eight years ago—only a few supermarkets and restaurants had their lights on. He walked and walked, stopping in front of a nail salon.