Chapter 250 - 113: A Sudden Turn for the Worse (Part 2)

Chapter 250: Chapter 113: A Sudden Turn for the Worse (Part 2)

"Just a passing thought, just a passing thought," Song Nhan said awkwardly. It wasn’t quite appropriate to be saying these things to his students.

"I’ll take you all home in a bit. For now, don’t worry about Shutong. The kid’s been a little stubborn lately. Hmm, how should I put it... as his friends, just try to be more patient with him."

"No problem~" Ruoping drew out the words. "Sigh, I can’t even be bothered to ask anymore. We’ll let him do his own thing for a few days. Might as well play along with whatever madness he’s up to."

"Yes, he’s lucky to have friends like you."

Song Nanshan smiled, gratified.

"I hope so. I’m more worried he finds us annoying," Ruoping said, rolling her eyes. She then called for the other two boys to hurry up.

At some point, they had run over to the appliance store across from the restaurant and were watching a display TV. A show, *Armor Hero*, was playing.

The two boys were making gestures with their hands and shouting lines from the show:

"Hey, Qingyi! I don’t want to see people cry anymore! I want to see everyone smile!"

"It just so happens I do too, Du Kang! So, watch my transformation carefully!"

But before he could finish his transformation, Ruoping exasperatedly dragged him back.

"How old are you guys, still watching *Armor Hero*? Could you be any more childish...?"

But this remark was met with pure outrage from the two boys:

"First of all, this is *Masked Rider*! And second... I... have arrived!"

Ruoping was instantly silenced.

"See? You know you were wrong, don’t you?"

"I don’t know you two..." she sighed. "Alright, Qinglian’s foot is hurt and she’s waiting downstairs. We need to hurry."

"True." Du Kang instantly betrayed the Rider faction. "Aren’t you coming, Qingyi? I told you *Kuuga* wasn’t that great."

"You..." Qingyi’s eyes widened in disbelief.

The three of them chattered away as they walked toward Song Nanshan, who was waiting for them by the elevator.

"I can’t control them anymore. They’re all yours, Mr. Song," Ruoping said, holding a hand to her forehead as she walked.

The man had been leaning against the handrail, smiling as he watched them fool around. He waved them over, about to get on the elevator, when his smile suddenly froze.

"Wait a minute, Ruoping..."

"What’s wrong?"

"You guys go on ahead... Or, could you call your dad and have him pick you up? I suddenly have an urgent matter... I’ll just be a moment," the man was visibly flustered. "No, I might not be back for a while. In any case, I have to go... now."

"What’s wrong, Mr. Song? What happened?" Du Kang asked, quickly running up to him.

But Song Nanshan didn’t answer. He stumbled away, sprinting down the escalator. The three of them were stunned by this sudden turn of events. By the time they thought to follow, their homeroom teacher had already reached the first floor of the mall, his figure disappearing into the crowd.

"What on earth happened to him?" Ruoping said, stunned.

"Let’s try calling him in a bit," Qingyi said, looking back. "Where was he looking just now?"

"The first floor, I think?" Ruoping pointed. The three of them looked in that direction, where the crowd was dense.

"I’ll just call my dad." They quickly went down to the first floor. Ruoping sighed, mentally exhausted, and dialed the number while waving to Lu Qinglian. "Over here, over here! Change of plans! You can ride home with us..."

...

Zhang Shutong rode his motorcycle to the police station.

Another question now occurred to him. If three people had died in the restricted zone after an eight-year gap, had similar cases happened before? Or, to put it another way, had anyone ever spotted suspicious figures in the restricted zone in the past?

In the original timeline, in front of the funeral home, Du Kang had said something: a few days before the incident, a fisherman had seen someone in the restricted zone.

Back then, he had assumed it was a poacher and had even set traps for them, eventually ruling out the restricted zone. But now, it seemed all the clues were leading back to square one.

He had the phone numbers of two police officers. One was Officer Xiong, whom he’d met while fishing. The other was Officer Wang, who was an old acquaintance of Song’s.

However, neither officer was in. He was told they had gone to the city to report on the Gu family’s case. Only the officer on duty was left. The calls didn’t go through either—the line was busy, so they were probably in a meeting.

Zhang Shutong asked the officer if he could see the case files, but the officer looked troubled.

"The case files... that’s definitely against procedure. But as for the two scenarios you mentioned, young man, I can tell you that nothing like that has happened in all these years. If you really want to talk about people dying in that wasteland, there’s only the legend about a fishing boat carrying college students that capsized. But that was at the beginning of the century. I was about your age back then, and there’s still no telling if it’s true or not."

Zhang Shutong sighed and thanked the officer.

It was now three in the afternoon.

’If I set early Saturday morning as the zero hour, that means there are nine hours until the incident.’

He habitually glanced at his phone. Ruoping had messaged that they were home. She also said Song had a sudden emergency and rushed off for some unknown reason. She had tried calling him but couldn’t get through, and was going to try again later.

Zhang Shutong replied with a "Got it."

He put on his helmet and gloves, swung a leg over his bike, and began riding around the island against the cold wind.

He didn’t know if this was the right thing to do—constantly rushing around in search of a "non-existent" person. The motorcycle’s exhaust pipe was scalding hot. He’d accidentally brushed against it when getting on, and it had stung a little even through his glove.

He followed the bus route, circling the island again and again.

’Did Song ever travel these same roads?’

Zhang Shutong sometimes wondered.

White snow, reeds, rocks, sheets of ice, mud...

A desolate landscape stretched out before him.

Winter was never a gentle season. It merely concealed its grim nature beneath a blanket of white.

Zhang Shutong didn’t know how long he’d been riding. The energy he’d felt at noon seemed to have just been a last burst. His head was starting to get dizzy again. He knew he couldn’t push himself any further. He glanced at his phone—it was already past four o’clock.