Winter Time Rendering

"Why do you think that person targeted your building blocks?"

"They probably thought I treasured them, since I made a point of bringing them to put on the bookshelf," Gu Qiuyan said nonchalantly. "They would have been better off doing something else, really."

"It’s about to touch it," Zhang Shutong reminded her.

Gu Qiuyan hadn’t been paying attention while she spoke, and the bun was getting closer and closer to her scarf.

She snapped back to her senses and tucked the scarf further in, then pursed her lips.

"Anyway, the act itself is a big deal, but the blocks themselves are not. Is that clear?"

"So you’re in some kind of state between being upset and not being upset?"

Zhang Shutong thought that women were truly a mysterious kind of creature.

"Wrong."

"Then what is it?"

"My mood is very bad."

Zhang Shutong was at a loss for words. "But you’re still eating a bun."

"Can’t I be hungry?"

"What about going to the restaurant for lunch?"

"Eating is eating, no matter where you do it."

"I think I get it," Zhang Shutong could only nod.

*So she still doesn’t really care after all.*

"You don’t get it at all," Gu Qiuyan said, dissatisfied. "You’re just curious why I didn’t cry or throw a fit, aren’t you?"

"Er..."

It seemed she had hit the nail on the head.

Zhang Shutong really couldn’t figure it out. Was it that she didn’t care about things that were unimportant to her and only took seriously the things that were?

He felt like he was closing in on the right answer, but this wasn’t a math problem where all that was left was a single calculation.

Gu Qiuyan didn’t elaborate. It seemed she didn’t want to explain too much, or perhaps she felt that explaining would just give others the pleasure of seeing her misfortune.

*What a clever girl.* He decided to shut his mouth. By now, the bun was getting cold. The winter wind was frigid, and it would steal the heat from even the most scalding food in a matter of seconds.

The first bun in Gu Qiuyan’s hand was almost gone.

As long as she wasn’t putting on a stern face, her voice was always soft, and the sounds she made while eating were just as gentle. Listening to her made Zhang Shutong a little hungry himself.

He silently took a bite of his own bun. The soft skin broke, revealing the filling inside—sweet, tender fatty pork, savory salted egg yolk, and crispy fried lard... It was undeniably tempting, yet it still felt contradictory no matter how he looked at it. This wasn’t a math problem, either. It was something people either loved or hated with a passion, but Zhang Shutong belonged to neither group. He was simply indifferent. Then, he suddenly heard a voice by his ear:

"Because... that would mean I’ve been beaten."

Gu Qiuyan quietly stated the answer.

Zhang Shutong froze for a moment. He turned his head. The corner of the girl’s lips still glistened with grease from the food, making them seem even redder. The way she ate was no different from how she’d drunk her yogurt at noon—even though a crowd had surrounded her then, and now she was alone.

Or rather, it was the other way around: when she was alone, it was no different from when she was the center of a crowd.

Not long ago, he’d met another girl who also ate alone. She had sat on the edge of the rooftop, eating cold, dry rice and limp pickles, not saying whether she liked it or not, only that she was used to it.

So what did that mean in Gu Qiuyan’s case?

She stood on the red-brick pavement, piles of gray-black snow at her feet, the bare branches of the sidewalk trees overhead. Her face peeked out from her red scarf, calm but never showing a hint of weakness.

So, it wasn’t that she didn’t care. It was that she was *always* in a bad mood. But even then, she wouldn’t bother with what was written on that A4 paper, wouldn’t walk over to the block castle to see how her princess was doing, wouldn’t lose her appetite, wouldn’t get red-eyed, and wouldn’t fly into a rage.

Instead, she’d lead a group to a restaurant just the same, and after returning, she’d sit through the afternoon under the varied gazes of her classmates. And now, she was even biting into a half-savory, half-sweet bun. She never spoke of being used to it or not. Instead, with unyielding resolve, she said—

"Because, that would mean I’ve been beaten."

Zhang Shutong even forgot to chew. His taste buds told him that in that single moment, the contradictory flavors had achieved a startling balance.

...

In the end, Gu Qiuyan ate just one bun and left.

Or rather, the person she was waiting for had finally arrived.

Zhang Shutong watched her cross the street and pull open the door of a small red car.

Zhang Shutong watched in silence for a long time as the girl got into the car. After it drove away, he left on his bike.

...

December 6, 2012. Thursday, 6:23 PM. Four days remained until the murder.

Zhang Shutong rushed to the body of water known as "the Forbidden Zone."

He found a secluded spot to sit, staring at the gloomy surface of the water until 8:00 PM.

Again, he found nothing.

...

On the way back, he made another trip to the commercial street.

A few scattered shops glowed with warm, yellow light.

He found a clothing and hat shop.

...

It was 9:00 PM when he got home.

The house was empty, same as always.

*Detective Conan* was playing on the TV. He watched for a bit, but realized it was no help for a real-life case.

He needed to change his target.

The figure in the Forbidden Zone wasn’t necessarily the killer.

...

Before falling asleep, he lay in bed as one sentence replayed in his mind:

"Because, that would mean I’ve been beaten."

...

The pressures one faces in life vary from person to person.

But what was undeniable was this:

He had once been a person who was beaten.

...

December 7, 2012. Friday.

The weather was nice today.

The campus was quiet.

Three days remained until the murder.

...

At 10:00 AM sharp, the bell signaling the end of class rang.

The activity during the long break between classes was morning calisthenics.

An exercise that would make you break a slight sweat even in the cold weather.

Zhang Shutong got up with the crowd, the last to leave the classroom, and queued up to go downstairs.

...

A few white patches still remained on the sports field. Sunlight hit the accumulated snow, reflecting a silvery gleam.

Music played over the broadcast system:

"The 9th Set of Radio Calisthenics. Begin now—"

10:10 AM.

"March in place—"

The teeming crowd of students lifted their legs in unison.

"Chest expansion exercise. Ready, begin—"

Zhang Shutong, completely out of sync, stretched languidly. Ignoring the astonished gazes around him, he began to weave through the formation. The only trouble was that this damnable exercise made everyone extend their elbows, so he got hit a few times.

...

The boy in the middle of the fifth row from the back was named Du Kang.

The boy at the end of the seventh row from the back was Qingyi.

Zhang Shutong clapped both of them on the shoulder.

The music suddenly swelled.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight—"

He inevitably had to speak louder:

"Come with me."

"What’s up?"

"Leg exercise. Ready, begin—"

Zhang Shutong first glanced toward a figure at the front of the formation. Gu Qiuyan was also doing the exercises, her form perfect. The charm at the end of her hair bobbed up and down with her movements.

That silver charm looked like it would never fall to the ground.

So Zhang Shutong decided to be the young miss’s goon for once.

10:12 AM.

He glanced at his phone’s screen, then put the device back in his pocket.

"Follow me. We’re going back to catch the culprit who wrecked the castle. The timing is perfect."