Chapter 307 - 132: "Clay Figure

Chapter 307: Chapter 132: "Clay Figure

The other was that the three people were, in fact, one and the same.

The reason Zhang Shutong suspected the latter was because Song had slipped in an irrelevant photo.

He looked at Lu Qinglian again. He’d had the phone on speaker, so she’d heard the entire conversation between him and his teacher. Zhang Shutong found himself staring at Lu Qinglian’s chest. She wore a thick, cyan-colored robe, and her breathing was so shallow that he couldn’t see its rise and fall.

"What are you looking at?" Lu Qinglian frowned, turning to the side.

Zhang Shutong ruled out the possibility that Lu Qinglian was dead.

A dead person’s ankle wouldn’t swell up from a sprain.

"You heard all that," he said.

"Mhm."

Their eyes met.

In fact, when Song had said the words "four years ago," they had both frowned at almost the exact same moment.

If this was Lu Qinglian’s first time seeing this thing...

Then—

’How did the woman from four years ago come back to life? And how was she laid to rest?’

’Why was she awakened again?’

"Only one clay figure?" Zhang Shutong asked, wanting to be sure.

"Just one."

Zhang Shutong was about to ask her to take a picture and send it over, but then he remembered Lu Qinglian didn’t have a phone. Her near-death experience in the avalanche was a direct result of being unable to communicate in a timely manner. It was a real problem. Then, Zhang Shutong recalled that he still had some prize to claim from the police station for that incident with Zhou Ziheng. ’Maybe I should just ask for a phone?’

He was about to offer to get her a phone, but the words caught in his throat as he froze.

’Phone... photos...’

Zhang Shutong suddenly remembered where he’d encountered the term "clay figure" before.

’It wasn’t that he’d heard of it—he’d seen it.’

In the Cold-Blooded Line, he had discovered two photos in a hidden album on his phone. One was of Gu Qiuyan, and the other was taken inside the Temple.

The Temple enshrined a sculpture of a cyan snake. The light was dim, and on the altar below the sculpture, besides a few lit candles, sat several small figures. They were all clay sculptures, their faces turned uniformly toward the camera, giving them a sinister air. Back then, he had assumed it was just some unique custom of the Temple, but now he suddenly realized—

Those were the clay figures!

’My other self from the Cold-Blooded Line knew about the clay figures!’

Zhang Shutong’s thoughts immediately jumped to the three tattoos on his arm.

A snake, a small figure, and a circle.

Aside from the snake, he had probably never even come close to the right answer. The "small figure" didn’t refer to the Temple Priestess, nor was it a surface-level symbol for someone like Lu Qinglian. It was—

The clay figures!

’Snake... clay figures...’

’If that’s the case, then what does the last one, the circle, represent?’

But a more troubling question immediately followed.

’When exactly was that photo taken?’

’If there’s only one clay figure in the Temple now, but there were many in the photo, doesn’t that mean these things have continued to appear over the past eight years?’

’Ruoping mentioned she was always with Lu Qinglian during the second semester of ninth grade. Were they dealing with those clay figures?’

Zhang Shutong told Lu Qinglian about his discovery, using a dream as a convenient excuse. He’d expected to see a flicker of surprise on her perpetually stone-cold face, but Lu Qinglian’s focus was... unique.

"So you’ve been to the Temple?" she asked, her tone thoughtful.

"That’s not the point. I’m talking about the clay figures," Zhang Shutong stressed.

"Do you know when they appear?" she countered.

"No."

"Then we’ll take it one step at a time." Lu Qinglian popped the last orange slice into her mouth. "I should go."

"Then what about four years ago?"

"I don’t know."

"You don’t know?"

"I’ll ask around. At the very least, it might distract my grandmother. You’d better stay hidden."

Zhang Shutong had no idea what she meant, but it was getting late. He glanced at his phone—it was almost nine o’clock. Besides, he was exhausted and had a lot to process. So, he said his goodbyes and sat back down on his bed.

Lu Qinglian unlocked the door but didn’t leave right away.

"Zhang Shutong, I’m going to assume everything you said tonight was the truth. I’ll trust you one last time." She let out a soft sigh. "Even though my rational side is telling me that trusting you always seems to lead to more trouble, Zhang Shutong."

Zhang Shutong had already lain down on the bed, and her words made him feel a little embarrassed. A sprained ankle, an avalanche... he seemed to have unknowingly racked up quite a few debts.

The night was finally coming to a close. Although he still hadn’t figured out what he’d missed, he had certainly cleared up a lot of things.

Just as the door was about to click shut, he sighed.

"A life debt."

"As long as you know."

Then, Lu Qinglian added softly:

"And another thing... don’t call me ’Mom’ next time."