Chapter 289 - 126: The "Wild Dog" Line (Part 1)

Chapter 289: Chapter 126: The "Wild Dog" Line (Part 1)

"Hey, wake up, Shutong, wake up..."

He vaguely heard a familiar voice.

"Don’t sleep..."

Zhang Shutong tried to open his eyes.

But his eyelids felt as if they weighed a thousand pounds.

His mind, however, was starting to clear.

He was still alive.

Not dead.

It seemed he’d been rescued from the avalanche after all.

He sighed in relief internally.

’So I should be in a hospital right now?’

He had already recognized the voice as Du Kang’s.

Zhang Shutong thought to himself, ’Please, just let me sleep a little longer, can’t you? I’m so tired.’

Du Kang pressed him.

"How long have you been sleeping?"

’Right,’

he thought.

’I still have to get Gu Qiuyan back before dawn, or there’ll be trouble.’

He struggled to force his eyelids open a crack, and his senses sharpened:

The wind on his face, the faint briny smell, the chill in his body.

"I’m telling you, Shutong, you slept the whole way in the car. How did you fall asleep on the boat too? Let’s go, hurry up..."

The Du Kang from eight years in the future appeared before him, and Zhang Shutong’s eyes flew wide open.

’Regression!’

The world before him trembled violently. He realized now that it wasn’t that he’d been sleeping too deeply, but that he couldn’t control his own body during the regression process.

He scrambled to his feet, only to find he was in a ship’s cabin. But the ferry to and from the island never had a cabin. Zhang Shutong looked out the window at the lake’s surface. The iron-gray water was being sliced into white waves by the ship’s advancing hull, and a fine mist splashed onto his face. This was definitely the ship back to the island... ’But why is it like this?’

Zhang Shutong’s heart suddenly clenched. He turned back to look at Du Kang and blurted out:

"Did Gu Qiuyan die again?"

"Uh..."

Du Kang was dumbfounded.

"Dude, did you sleep your brain away?"

"Just tell me, is she dead or not?"

"Of course she’s not dead. You mean Gu Qiumian, right? Why bring her up all of a sudden?" Du Kang recalled, as if the name hadn’t passed his lips in a long time. Then he gave a sly smile. "Hey, hey, Shutong, don’t tell me you were dreaming about her..."

Zhang Shutong was just as stunned.

His mind was still stuck at the moment of the avalanche. But if Gu Qiuyan hadn’t died, why was he back again?

Zhang Shutong then remembered the dream:

"Is her dad dead?"

"Probably not. That’s not something I’d know." Du Kang’s expression grew even stranger. "We haven’t been in touch for years, so who knows if he’s dead or not. Besides, your questions are seriously weird. Are you trying to ask about her whole family, one by one?"

Only then did Zhang Shutong feel a deep exhaustion wash over him. The ferry wasn’t particularly steady; he staggered a step and fell back onto his chair.

"Didn’t I tell you to close the window? Why’d you open it again? You’ve got a fever, what are you messing around for?" Du Kang chided. "Seriously, are you okay? Why are you so jumpy all of a sudden?"

Zhang Shutong subconsciously touched his own forehead. It was indeed burning up. But he couldn’t be bothered to worry about why his eight-years-future self also happened to have a fever. He just wanted to know: if Gu Qiuyan wasn’t dead, and the contents of his dream hadn’t come true, then what exactly was happening right now?

He glanced at Du Kang and immediately noticed something was off about him, too. His best friend still had that same baby face, but he no longer had a buzz cut. Instead, he had long, flowing hair, like a rock star.

Zhang Shutong quickly looked at his phone.

December 12, 2020.

It was still the same day.

But wasn’t Du Kang supposed to have inherited his family’s little restaurant and stayed on the island? Why was he on the boat with him?

He wanted to sort through all the changes and figure things out, but his fever-addled brain was a step behind. However, the first question he had was now answered:

why the ferry to and from the island had a cabin.

Because Gu Qiuyan hadn’t died, her dad had continued to develop the island. As a result, the island eventually became prosperous—so prosperous that the ferry even had a roof added.

’Then again, my relationship with Du Kang isn’t like it was in the cold-blooded timeline anymore.’

’It seems I learned my lesson from last time and got along well with everyone.’

’But why did I come back, then?’

’Wasn’t I supposed to celebrate a birthday, but it didn’t happen again?’

Zhang Shutong suddenly felt his stomach churn. He covered his mouth, and Du Kang quickly patted his back.

"Relax, relax, don’t be anxious. Take a deep breath. Did you take your medicine?"

Zhang Shutong did as he was told. He let out a long breath and felt much better.

"Let’s get going," Du Kang said. "The boat has docked. We should get off and find a place. Staying here isn’t going to solve anything."

Zhang Shutong wanted to ask more questions, but every time he was about to open his mouth, a deep wave of nausea would hit him, and his heart would pound. The only thing he could do was try his best not to think. He dazedly followed Du Kang out of the cabin and noticed that there were more people than before. Men leaned against the deck, smoking, while women held up their phones, taking pictures.

"Young man, could you take a picture for me and my husband?" an elderly woman asked.

"My friend isn’t feeling well..." Du Kang said hesitantly.

Zhang Shutong shook his head to show he was fine. He really needed some space to be alone right now. As Du Kang went to take the photo, he followed the crowd, about to disembark, but then he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

Zhang Shutong saw a tire mark on the deck.

It was the mark left by a scorched tire.

’No way...’

He looked at the ship itself again.

The hull was painted white, with the name "Victory" written on it in large letters. Only then did he realize that adding a cabin didn’t mean they had replaced the ship; it had just been built onto the original structure.

Zhang Shutong stared blankly at the tire mark. In other words, this was very likely the mark he himself had left eight years ago. Because he’d had to rush back to the island before six, he had ridden his bike headlong onto the deck, the tires grinding out sparks and a pungent smell. It had also left a black mark that had spanned eight years.