Chapter 234 - 107: Lingering Sound (Middle)

Chapter 234: Chapter 107: Lingering Sound (Middle)

Too bad his dad hadn’t left him a helmet.

Zhang Shutong was currently riding down a snow-covered path. The headlight cut through the darkness, illuminating the road a few meters ahead. All was silent save for the roar of the motorcycle’s engine. He glanced at the fuel gauge—still half a tank.

There were no gas stations on the island, so he had to make this fuel last.

He wasn’t riding fast—it was impossible to in these conditions—but the frigid wind still sliced at his face like a knife, the sting sharp and painful.

’This must be the definition of ’looking cool,’’ he thought.

The motorcycle was undeniably cool, of course. It was solid black and, from a distance, looked like a ferocious bull with bulging muscles. His dad had added crash bars and spotlights, and had even installed a seat on the rear fender—for his mom.

He imagined the two of them were probably at some restaurant enjoying a candlelight dinner, while he was out here, tearing through the cold wind. Any feeling of ’looking cool’ he might have had vanished without a trace. In moments like these, it was definitely cooler to be eating at a table for two with a girl you loved. Though his mom was far from a ’girl’ anymore, they were still just as lovey-dovey as ever.

—The wine swirls in a long-stemmed glass, a warm melody drifts through the air. You pick up a knife and fork to cut the steak on her plate. At a time like this, you must never stare at the steak. Instead, you gaze into her eyes across the candlelight, because the greatest victory isn’t carving up this half-cooked slab of meat, but seeing the beautiful lady break into a dazzling smile at something you said.

Zhang Shutong had never had a chance at that kind of life before, and even with a second chance, it was still out of reach. He felt like a block of wood sometimes. All those romantic gestures were like a subtle electric current, but no matter how tingly it was for others, he was completely insulated from it.

Right now, he was heading toward the villa.

It had been cold during the day, but it was even colder at night. Fortunately, Zhang Shutong had been battling the chill quite a bit lately, so this level of cold was already tolerable. He suddenly understood what Lu Qinglian meant by being "used to it." It wasn’t that you stopped feeling it; it was that you had no other choice.

Zhang Shutong wasn’t stupid enough to hunt the killer by himself. Even Lu Qinglian couldn’t beat them; he’d just be serving himself up on a platter. Zhang Shutong just remembered the photo his senior had sent him. Boss Gu’s house didn’t have security cameras, so that was the only photo, captured by the only surveillance camera in the vicinity.

He just didn’t know where that camera was.

Zhang Shutong had no intention of going to the villa again. Gu Qiuyan had bodyguards, a nanny, and her loving, big-shot father. She was probably having a family dinner at that long dining table right now. If he went, he’d just be asking for embarrassment. He’d only be able to stand outside the window... No, now he probably couldn’t even get past the gate. He might be caught as a suspicious person, forced to watch from a distance, outside the fence.

He and his buddies had passed by that villa before. A palatial, four-story building, brilliantly lit, a place they called "the Castle."

Zhang Shutong had no desire to enter the castle. He just wanted to find that surveillance camera.

Although he didn’t know if the long-haired woman in the photo was the real Lu Qinglian or an imposter, nor did he know why Lu Qinglian would have been passing by there, investigating the location might yield more clues. He didn’t want to miss a single one.

’It’s just small-scale stuff, and it will probably all be a waste of effort in the end.’

But small-scale work was all he could do right now. Zhang Shutong could be stubborn at times. Gu Qiuyan was finally safe, so logically, he should be off the hook. He could go home, watch some Conan, and go to bed. After running around all day, he was guaranteed to sleep like a log. Or, if he were feeling a little mischievous, he could catch the last ferry to the city. He was sure his parents wouldn’t mind a third wheel.

But he’d never had any luck with that kind of wonderful life.

It existed only in his imagination. As appealing as it was, when it came time to act, he would always, inexplicably, choose the other path.

’Then again, ever since the reset, despite paying lip service to embracing a new life and enjoying my student days, it was all just talk. I’ve actually been focused on catching the real culprit the entire time and haven’t really done anything else.’

There were only two times he’d truly relaxed. The first was on the day of the reset, when he went fishing with his buddies and ended up running into poachers. The second was after catching Zhou Ziheng’s father, when he rode home and had just fallen asleep before the reset triggered again in the early morning.

Both times, the tension in his mind had just started to ease before it snapped taut again.

He was getting a little run ragged.

So, if he were to just let it all go now, he wouldn’t be very willing. He’d feel a kind of hollowness, as if a piece of him were missing.

Zhang Shutong couldn’t say what that "piece" was. Maybe he really was at a bit of a loss. When something you’ve been working toward for so long suddenly vanishes, it can make you lose your bearings.

Fortunately, he still had a sense of direction.

Going from the port to the villa was like crossing the island from north to south. This time, he took a shortcut through the city center instead of going halfway around the island’s edge. His dad had left him neither a helmet nor gloves, and by the time he finally entered the city, his hands and face were nearly frozen stiff. As he passed by the school gate, he caught the fragrant aroma wafting from the rice bowl restaurant.

It was an almost touching scent.

’On such a cold day, with the students on vacation... if the owner hasn’t closed up shop yet, then I shouldn’t be slacking off either.’ He flared his nostrils, taking in the smell of cooking oil, and remembered he still needed to find a place for dinner.

Zhang Shutong wasn’t picky about food. He rode up to the restaurant’s entrance, pulled out the key, and put down the kickstand. Pushing aside the plastic door flaps, he walked in and ordered a bowl of rice with shredded pork and green peppers.