Winter Time Rendering

In winter, you have to wring the clothes out with all your might. By then, the eggs were about ready. He lifted the lid, and the puff of white steam that rushed into his face was surprisingly pleasant.

He swallowed the egg in a few bites and walked over to the sofa, munching on a cold steamed bun. He actually quite liked the taste of cold buns. He ate as he watched TV.

He’d long since fallen out of the habit of watching TV, but there was no computer at home, and phone screens back then were tiny. Trying to browse anything on that 3.5-inch piece of glass was just torturing himself.

He realized an anime was playing—

A little kid with glasses was crouched behind a sofa, furtively lifting a bowtie-shaped voice changer to his chest.

He could already guess the plot. The elementary school student, who was originally Kudo Shinichi, would go somewhere with his friends, run into some kind of danger, and someone would end up dead. Then, some idiot detective would pop up and pick one of three suspects.

And then, the great detective would have a flash of inspiration, and the truth would be revealed.

It was cliché, but Zhang Shutong watched with rapt attention.

He had started watching halfway through and had no idea what this particular episode was about. But that wasn’t what mattered. What mattered was that Zhang Shutong suddenly found that he could truly *understand* the anime.

—It wasn’t that the show was so obscure that his younger self couldn’t have understood it. It was that staring at the TV right now gave him a powerful sense of déjà vu.

’How is this so much like my own situation?’

One of them was drugged by some organization of men in black, causing his body to shrink, and he got caught up in case after case to find the truth.

The other was suddenly stabbed at a classmate’s funeral. In a way, he had "shrunk" too, returning to eight years ago, and was now getting caught up in case after case to find his own killer.

Conan had three friends—two boys and a girl—and on the TV, they were in the middle of solving a case.

Zhang Shutong also had three best friends—two boys and a girl—and they had just finished solving a case tonight.

The feeling was truly bizarre—Zhang Shutong was somehow seeing a touch of documentary realism in an anime.

But as he kept watching, Zhang Shutong noticed a difference:

A girl with a cool expression and short, light brown hair pulled the boy aside by the ear. Away from the other kids and the idiot detective, the two of them whispered to each other, speaking words far beyond their age, their mutual understanding setting them apart from their peers.

’The kid actually has an ally in the same boat as him.’

’Of course, having a female confidante, a pretty girl... none of that is important.’ ’Okay, actually, it’s pretty important.’

But the most crucial part was having someone to huddle together with for warmth.

Huddling together for warmth is so important. A cookie is only an Oreo when it’s sandwiched together with cream filling. Otherwise, it’s just an ordinary chocolate cookie. Quick, can you name another brand of chocolate cookie in ten seconds?

Zhang Shutong, for one, couldn’t.

This proves that a lonely cookie can only create a spark when it’s with another lonely cookie. Before that, they’re nothing. If you toss one on the ground and step on it, people will just think it’s dirt on the bottom of your shoe.

The more Zhang Shutong thought about it, the more profound and philosophical it seemed. He decided to name this deduction the "Cookie Theory" and resolved to share it with the "other cookie" if he ever met them.

But that was impossible.

He felt like a plain chocolate cookie. He could meet cheese crackers, soda crackers, or sugar cookies. They could all be the best of friends in the great big world of cookies, but they could never become an Oreo. That was what it was like with Ruoping, Qingyi, and Du Kang.

He wasn’t lonely when he was with his best friends. They had just fought side-by-side tonight. But was he supposed to tell them what had happened to him?

Perhaps the adrenaline from the journey home was finally wearing off. He sank into the sofa, the flickering light from the screen dancing on his face. The background music swelled as the hero made his grand entrance, delivering his catchphrase. He could recognize the iconic words, "There is only one truth," but uncovering the real truth was never a children’s game.

The man with the gun, the situation spiraling out of control... he was still shaken. If two mere poachers were that much trouble, who was the real killer? Would things get even more dangerous? There was no way to know.

Zhang Shutong didn’t want to drag his three friends into this. Since there was nothing he could tell them, he had to bear it all alone.

Zhang Shutong shook his head. ’I’m getting a little obsessed,’ he thought. ’Why am I so fixated on being an Oreo?’

Just then, the Conan episode ended. He turned off the TV, and the living room was once again quiet and empty.

Everyone in the group chat was talking about Lu Qinglian. At the scene, they had probably just registered that the girl could fight. But now that they were home and had time to process it, they realized she wasn’t just a good fighter—she was exceptionally skilled, which only made them more curious.

Qingyi had even looked up a bunch of information. He said the Cyan Snake Temple had existed since before Liberation and had a long history. Apparently, Lu Qinglian’s grandmother had also been the Temple Priestess in her youth. After chatting for a bit, the three of them belatedly got around to one question: Why did Lu Qinglian even show up tonight?

Zhang Shutong had already lost interest in that question.

It did, however, remind him of something else. On the way back when he was walking her home, they had a brief exchange. Lu Qinglian had suddenly spoken up, saying she had one last question for him.

"Those history notes I borrowed from you last week—I didn’t return them, did I? I need them for when I get home."

But he had absolutely no memory of it. For him, it had been eight years.

It wasn’t like the time he’d lent her his gloves for clearing snow. He’d forgotten about that too, but when she mentioned it, he could at least summon a vague memory.

But he couldn’t let on that he didn’t remember, so he just nodded. "I’ll look for them when I get home tonight."

The whole thing taught him a lesson—

He hadn’t thought he and Lu Qinglian were close enough for her to borrow his notes, but since it had apparently happened, it just went to show that a person’s memory isn’t always reliable.