Chapter 360 - 158: The Watcher’s Loneliness (Middle)

Chapter 360: Chapter 158: The Watcher’s Loneliness (Middle)

"I suppose so."

The answer was a little unexpected.

Zhang Shutong had expected her to ignore the question. While ignoring it would have been a tacit admission, her stating it so bluntly made it awkward for him to respond.

He froze for a moment, then could only say:

"...My condolences."

He’d actually suspected this about her parents for a while. For someone who hadn’t appeared in so many years, being missing was no different from being dead.

"But," Zhang Shutong said, choosing his words carefully, "since you already expected this, would you be willing to tell me about your mother? Why did she become a ’clay figure’?"

"I have very few memories of her. As for her death... this is the first time I’ve ever seen a photograph of her."

"The first time as in... the very first time?"

"In life or in death," Lu Qinglian said softly.

Zhang Shutong found it incredible at first, but then it seemed perfectly reasonable. Logically, how could a person go through life without leaving behind a single photograph? Selfies, travel photos, group pictures with friends, anniversaries, birthdays... But forget about Lu Qinglian’s mother’s generation—even she herself had hardly left any photos behind.

Zhang Shutong remembered a rumor from their class. During their graduation year, the school had hired a professional photographer to take pictures of everyone and had also asked each student to submit a personal photo for a commemorative album.

According to the rumor, Lu Qinglian was the only one who never collected her album. Zhang Shutong had one, and on the rare occasions he’d flipped through it over the past eight years, he’d belatedly realized her personal photo was missing. He used to think it was because she was poor—though sixty yuan for a thick volume wasn’t terribly expensive—but now, he suspected that wasn’t the reason.

There was a digital version of the graduation group photo, which was free and sent to everyone’s email by Song, but he figured she probably didn’t have an email address either.

Zhang Shutong glanced again at the woman’s photograph on the wall. He now understood what Lu Qinglian meant by "very few memories." If the clay figures preserved the deceased’s appearance from when they were alive, then the woman in the photo couldn’t have been much older than Lu Qinglian was now. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have mistaken her before.

’Early twenties? At most.’ That meant her mother really had passed away when she was very, very young. Two? Three years old? Even if she were a bit older, what could a child that age possibly remember?

He didn’t press her further, because what Lu Qinglian had just said was already an answer in itself.

Instead, it was Lu Qinglian who added:

"If I knew what happened to her, I would tell you. But the fact is, I don’t."

"But don’t assume people are so fragile, Zhang Shutong."

She lowered her gaze, gently stroking the scratched surface of the wooden table.

"When you expect something, you should prepare for it. Besides, all I want is the truth."

"The truth?"

"The temple murals have records of the clay figures. Someone whose duty was to retrieve them ended up becoming one herself. Why did she die? What happened after her death? Isn’t it only natural to want to know the truth?"

She stated, word by word:

"I am the Temple Priestess. My mother was, too."

"Even your grandmother doesn’t know about this?"

"My grandmother said it was an accident. But I still remember that before she died, she wanted to leave this island with my father."

"And then?"

"The ’accident’ happened."

"A Temple Priestess can’t leave the island?"

"At least, that’s the rule at the temple." Lu Qinglian changed the subject. "Time is almost up."

As she said this, Zhang Shutong was inspecting the hidden compartment in the wooden table. Unfortunately, it was just a plain wooden board.

"I have a new theory," Zhang Shutong said. "At first, I thought this person observed Song from this basement for four full years. But now I’m not so sure. Since they already retrieved the clay figure, there was no reason for them to stay so long. The dust in the room proves it.

"It’s more likely that they initially targeted Song to find clues about the clay figure."

"But that raises another question. Song moving in was pure chance—he just thought the east-facing room got the best sunlight. This basement, however, was probably built sometime last century. It’s impossible that someone built an entire dormitory building this long ago just to watch Song.

"What I’m saying is, the person who stayed in this basement and the person who built the dormitory aren’t necessarily the same.

"So, building such a strange building is, in itself, also very stra—COUGH..."

Lu Qinglian hummed in agreement and was about to speak when her brow furrowed.

"What are you doing now?"

Zhang Shutong was gasping for air. Just now, that damn feeling had returned.

"I’m... having trouble breathing... Did you find anything on your end?"

"No. If you’re feeling anxious, you should leave. If Teacher Song gets back to the dorm early, all your preparations will have been for nothing."

"You also think we shouldn’t tell him?" Zhang Shutong asked with difficulty. He tried to steady his breathing, but the musty air was thick and nauseating.

"You don’t need to ask me about things like this." Lu Qinglian glanced at him, her eyes seeming to glow faintly in the dark. "For me, there is only what is necessary and what is not. If telling him yields no benefit, then it is not necessary."

She spoke without a hint of emotion, but Zhang Shutong felt there was more to her words than met the eye. It was as if she were searching for another reason.

But he had no time to ponder what Lu Qinglian was thinking. His throat and mind were constricting in unison.

Zhang Shutong didn’t know if the enclosed space was triggering his anxiety or if it was something else, but this condition was a real hindrance.