Chapter 87: Capturing the "Snake" (1) |
A few minutes later.
In the dormitory building, the electric kettle let out a shrill whistle.
This was a thirty-square-meter living room with a small color TV, a fabric sofa, and a paint-chipped coffee table—that was all the furniture there was.
A family photo hung on the TV wall, the image slightly faded.
The dormitory building was brick-and-concrete construction, with a layout different from ordinary residential buildings.
The term "generational housing" wasn't popular yet at this time. The living room was rectangular, with the sofa placed against the long side. The upper half of the wall was a window, and sunlight poured down, scattering fragmented rays of light across the sofa and floor. You could see specks of dust floating in the air. The home wasn't large, but it gave off a warm feeling.
Today, however, an unexpected guest had arrived.
Zhang Shutong picked up the kettle and poured Lu Qinglian a cup of hot water.
"Thank you." The girl held the teacup with both hands, sitting upright on the sofa.
She had removed the green robe and folded it beside her, revealing the sweater underneath. White, somewhat old, but it didn't look slovenly on her—or rather, her temperament was too distinctive to be enhanced or diminished by any piece of clothing.
"Auntie told me you're going to the mountain later," Lu Qinglian lowered her gaze and gently blew on the hot water. "Welcome."
He didn't respond to that ambiguous statement.
Instead, he returned to his bedroom to change clothes.
Closing the door, he could hear Mom cutting fruit in the kitchen. She'd always been lively and loved excitement, and he could hear her humming cheerfully, the apple going ka-cha ka-cha into small pieces.
He'd always said Mom was a woman who lived delicately—not only peeling and cutting the apple into pieces, she'd probably soak them in salt water afterward. Zhang Shutong's current mood was just like that apple in salt water.
A few minutes ago, downstairs, he'd asked Mom where his heavy coat was, hoping they'd match on the code word.
But Mom had casually said:
"Didn't I put that coat in the closet for you the other day? When you got out of school, I even called to tell you..."
Now he came to the wardrobe and opened it. A light blue denim jacket hung there quietly, with long fleece lining and excellent insulation. But in his dictionary, this couldn't be called a "heavy coat"—at most, it was a thick jacket.
Zhang Shutong hadn't paid much attention to clothing categories before; he might not even distinguish between T-shirts and short sleeves. But now he regretted it a bit.
If he'd known, he might as well have said his aunt had come—though he didn't have an aunt.
He found a scarf and ran his fingers over its surface, unsure whether he should wear it. Hesitating, he sighed.
What this meant was—he didn't even know if he should go up the mountain later.
After the initial paranoia passed, he'd made a further judgment about his current predicament:
Lu Qinglian might not actually take any "action," because her arrival itself was a kind of "action"—a way of expressing her stance through this method, leaving others in a dilemma.
The plan to go up the mountain had been disrupted.
Originally, he'd held the initiative—the temple was in the open while he was hidden, so no matter what happened, he could adapt to circumstances.
But now the situation had reversed. He didn't seem to be going to "investigate," but rather to "visit."
Visit.
Zhang Shutong found the description laughable himself.
"Welcome."
But that's exactly what Lu Qinglian had said.
She seemed to have silently given him two choices. But it was only "seemed"—in reality, Zhang Shutong had no other choice.
If he didn't take her back up the mountain, Zhang Shutong didn't doubt for a second that she could stay here all day.
—Either go to the temple, but the initiative would definitely be in her hands.
—Or neither of them would go, and since classes were cancelled, they might as well enjoy this rare holiday. They could discuss this matter later.
But Zhang Shutong had no time to waste. Today was Friday, and the blink of an eye would bring Sunday's dawn.
He thought Lu Qinglian was a very clever woman. She spoke little, but every move exerted some invisible pressure that accumulated more and more until it came crashing down like an avalanche.
Among their peers, there were almost no girls who made him feel this kind of pressure, but she was an exception.
Just then his phone rang—a message from Ruoping, a selfie group photo:
The three of them had actually gone up the mountain. Zhang Shutong scanned the photo; they should be not far from the mountain path.
But they weren't skiing. There was a small snowman in the frame, and a very deep pit, large enough to hold a child. Zhang Shutong knew what they were doing. Young people never lacked means of entertainment—in the ice and snow, nature itself was the best material.
They were playing snow pit jumping, choosing a place with thick snow, digging a pit, stepping back two paces, then jumping hard. If you successfully jumped over, you'd keep stepping back, going farther and farther—until someone fell in.
Ruoping and Qingyi's jackets were covered in snow. It looked like Du Kang was the final winner. They were urging him to come quickly.
Zhang Shutong's finger hovered over the keyboard. After a long moment, he replied.
Zhang Shutong wasn't someone who loved to hesitate.
Whether hasty or lacking consideration, he now had to make a decision—
Lu Qinglian was the center of the vortex.
You could stay away from her, but that meant never getting close to the truth.
But if you faced her directly, the result still wouldn't be good. In an instant, you'd be swept away by the current, leaving you with no control over what came next.
Zhang Shutong didn't know if this counted as an obvious trap, but he knew he couldn't continue like this.
The worst thing when doing anything is hesitating. With someone like Lu Qinglian, you either treat her as an enemy or as a stranger—indecision won't yield results.
Remembering last night in the Forbidden Zone, seeing that disheveled, pale-faced figure crouched at the shore in a grotesque posture—no one could avoid being on edge in that situation. Afterward, he and Qingyi had discussed it like this:
Since they couldn't beat Lu Qinglian and couldn't get any answers from her mouth, they might as well bypass her and investigate secretly.
But now Zhang Shutong had changed his mind.
He had to pull things back into his own rhythm.
He changed into his jacket and pulled the scarf from the coat rack, leaving the bedroom.
Two females, one big and one small, sat in the living room. Mom called for him to come eat apples.
But Zhang Shutong shook his head, saying he still had to go up the mountain, so they'd better leave now.
Mom was somewhat reluctant, complaining that he was too restless.
"I need to go back too—Grandma will be waiting anxiously." Lu Qinglian also said.
Mom was surprised:
"Why do you two sound like you arranged to go together?"
"Pretty much."
They both said lightly at the same time. Actually, they just didn't want to explain too much, but before speaking, neither had expected to say the same thing.
"Such synchronicity—you two must get along really well at school." Mom's eyes lit up.
This time neither of them spoke again, because Zhang Shutong wanted to say "no," and he wasn't sure if Lu Qinglian's answer would be the same. If it was similar, that would undoubtedly be a counterexample. Who knew this time she didn't respond.
Apart from clarifying some matters, he didn't want any entanglement with her, but he couldn't speak frankly in front of Mom. He'd have to talk later.
So he urged again, and Mom gave him an annoyed look, pointing at the full plate of apples on the coffee table and telling him to finish eating before leaving.
Zhang Shutong didn't understand why she'd cut so many. He casually picked up a piece and tossed it in his mouth—even his gums felt a bit sour.
Mom had another wild idea:
"I'll find you a bag to pack these in—you can eat them while you play."
Not allowing them to refuse, she rushed back to the kitchen, her tone sounding like she was taking two children on a picnic.
If only it were a picnic.
Zhang Shutong glanced at Lu Qinglian. She was putting down her fork, indicating:
"Thank you for the hospitality. It was very good."
Though the number of times they'd truly communicated could be counted on one hand, Zhang Shutong could tell this was her disguise. It might not be deliberate, but it definitely wasn't her true face.
Just like when she wasn't discussing serious matters, she often addressed him as "Zhang Shutong-tongxue."
But once she dropped the disguise, it became just "Zhang Shutong."
Her current expression was like a little girl who'd tasted a delicious dessert, savoring it with lingering enjoyment. Though on this small island, in 2012, winter fruits weren't yet abundant, it was just an apple after all.
If this were really her, it would be relaxing—a girl of few words and desires. Zhang Shutong wouldn't mind treating her to apples for a month. But she wasn't, so only silence remained.
Just then Mom called from the kitchen. Zhang Shutong went over, and she closed the kitchen door:
"Is there anything else you two want to eat? I'll pack some for you."
Zhang Shutong could only emphasize that he wasn't going on a picnic.
"Then what about lunch?"
"We'll see." He answered absentmindedly. Being able to return safely would be good enough—better not think about eating for now.
"How's your relationship with little Lu normally?"
If it were anyone else saying such things, Zhang Shutong would have pretended not to hear, but this was Mom, so he had to patiently explain they were just ordinary classmates.
"Really? I feel like you're kind of afraid of her."
Mom giggled:
"I've heard that nowadays some boys, to chase girls, will do whatever they're told. If the girl glares at them, they're too scared to make a sound. Tongtong, you're not like that behind my back, are you?"
Mom's words were really meaningless. He'd wanted to leave, but after thinking, he stopped:
"Mom, when you ran into Lu Qinglian, was she standing at the school gate the whole time?"
"Yes."
Then it definitely wasn't a coincidence.
If she'd discovered school was cancelled, she would have gone straight back up the mountain.
There were two roads from the school—one leading up the mountain, one toward the city. If she'd gone straight up the mountain, Mom wouldn't have run into her.
Zhang Shutong left the kitchen and looked at Lu Qinglian again. She'd already risen and put on that green robe.
Zhang Shutong noticed her hair wasn't tied in a high ponytail. He even had a theory—the hairstyle determined her current stance. Student or temple keeper.
The three of them had stayed upstairs for less than ten minutes before getting back in the car. Zhang Shutong fastened his seatbelt and glanced at Lu Qinglian in the rearview mirror. As the car started moving, she turned her head to look at the scenery outside again. The bleak landscape reflected in her eyes as if every scene were a fresh picture.
Lu Qinglian showed no reaction to him going up the mountain, as if she'd even lost normal human curiosity.
Because a normal person should at least ask why you're going, or what you're going to do there, but she acted as if she'd expected it all along.
No one took the initiative to speak, and no one took the initiative to answer. The atmosphere was very strange. Apart from Mom being kept in the dark, the remaining two people each harbored ulterior motives, yet the atmosphere they presented was like a parent taking children somewhere to play, delivering them to some destination.
Zhang Shutong had prepared himself for going there.
He'd bundled up completely for this outing—hiking boots on his feet, denim jacket and black scarf on top, gloves stuffed in his pockets. The equipment he'd accumulated over the years finally had a use. He took out his phone and sent Qingyi a text:
"Lu Qinglian is right next to me now."
"?"
"Don't tell those two yet, especially Du Kang."
"Are you really coming?"
He replied with a "yeah," then typed:
"But don't meet up."
"Are you confident?"
"It might not come to that."
"Be careful."
Zhang Shutong turned off his phone.
People are such strange creatures—once you've made a certain decision, doubts actually fly away from your heart.
So he also propped his face up to look at the scenery outside, unclear what this view meant to Lu Qinglian.
Green snake.
Offspring.
Longevity.
Temple keeper.
Forbidden Zone.
Photos.
Tattoos.
Mom was saying again to bring classmates home more often to play—something every mother seemed to say.
Then she mentioned that after dropping them off, she was going to the mall to get her nails done. Only then did Zhang Shutong remember—last time he'd seen Mom at the mall, had she been getting her nails done?
It seemed that every time the old lady appeared, she ran into a girl, and things always reached a turning point. Zhang Shutong patiently listened to her talk in a relaxed tone. Perhaps Mom really did think this way—believing that once she'd sent the kids off, she could finally enjoy this hard-won holiday.
Zhang Shutong also cherished this hard-won tranquility. Because once the car reached its destination, it would be a different scene altogether.
While he could still hear Mom's cheerful chatting, he should listen carefully.
Then they rode in silence.
Buildings flew past rapidly in the car window—buildings and roadside trees and empty streets. These things gradually receded, leaving only the vast white snow.
His home was in the east, so it was very close to the mountain. In just ten minutes, they could see the towering mountain mass ahead.
Zhang Shutong was familiar with this place. He'd taken Lu Qinglian home before.
This time Mom let them off at the foot of the mountain.
The snow at the entrance hadn't yet melted. The mountain path wound upward, and every few steps you could see withered trees. In several places, black mountain rocks were exposed—stark black and white, the cold light dazzling.
He waved goodbye through the car window. Mom said have fun, and he smiled too, saying of course they'd have fun, and that she should enjoy herself at the beauty salon too. He guaranteed he wouldn't call at noon to disturb her sleep.
"Then I'll be going. You two be careful." Mom waved to Lu Qinglian again.
Lu Qinglian also offered a farewell.
The two of them stood in the empty snowfield, silently looking ahead, watching the car slowly drive away.
The wind was strong at the foot of the mountain. They stood together—one dressed as if for outdoor mountaineering, the other as if going to the temple to hold a ceremony. Therefore, they were completely mismatched, even somewhat ridiculous.
But Zhang Shutong knew that once they'd gotten out of the car, everything was different. This wasn't an outing or a picnic, and the person standing beside him wasn't an ordinary girl. Whatever awaited him ahead—whether his worries were groundless or danger lay everywhere—there was no turning back.
"What exactly do you want to do?" After a long moment, Zhang Shutong changed his tone.
"Zhang Shutong-tongxue, ask fewer such vague questions." Lu Qinglian lowered her gaze. Turns out she was tightening the sash of her green robe. "Why don't you tell me instead—what do you want to know?"
"You just said at my house, 'I need to hurry back, or Grandma will be waiting anxiously,' right? But how would your grandmother know that classes were cancelled today, or that you'd be coming back during the day?"
"Oh, that. She doesn't know." Lu Qinglian said lightly. Zhang Shutong turned his head and saw the cold wind blowing her hair into disarray. "It was just an excuse I thought of on the spot to deflect things. It does have some holes—you don't need to worry about it."
"Don't need to worry about it?"
"It's just a convenient excuse. When you get used to using it, you'll overlook its reasonability. You can substitute anyone. Don't pay too much attention to every sentence I say—sometimes I'm serious, sometimes I'm just speaking off the cuff."
"Then what about that statement just now?"
"That should count as off the cuff." She raised her gaze. Zhang Shutong once again saw those eyes devoid of emotional fluctuation.
He frowned at this:
"Can you just say what you mean all at once?"
But Lu Qinglian looked at him casually:
"Are you very impatient right now, feeling irritated, wondering why this person never tells the truth, always brushing everything off with an excuse, never clear? I can roughly understand that."
Then Zhang Shutong saw her lips curve upward in what might or might not be a smile—just a subtle arc:
"But Zhang Shutong, have you noticed that in this respect, you and I are actually quite similar?
"You're also full of lies.
"How many people have you deceived?"