Winter Time Rendering

He wasn’t sure if this counted as a disappearance, in a way. The timeline didn’t quite match, but he asked his homeroom teacher about it anyway.

Song was in no mood to talk. He was sitting in his office with a grim expression, and only said that he’d seen her go to the library with a group of friends.

Zhang Shutong thought for a moment and understood. If the abandoned drainage tunnel was the secret base for him and his buddies, then the library served a similar purpose for Gu Qiuyan—after all, her family had built it.

The long-unused art classroom on the top floor of the two-story building was the hangout spot for Gu Qiuyan and her little followers.

Sometimes, when he returned to the classroom after lunch, he would see Gu Qiuyan coming down from the second floor. She would tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, a large entourage following her as they paraded grandly across campus.

Zhang Shutong was still mulling over the incident during the long break. He still had no leads. What he found particularly strange was Gu Qiuyan’s attitude. She was the one who had argued with him, red-eyed, over the scarf; yet she was also the one who seemed completely indifferent when her castle blocks were smashed.

It was hard to tell which was the real Gu Qiuyan. ’Maybe they both are.’

Zhang Shutong still wasn’t sure how to classify the situation. ’A continuation of the scarf incident?’ If so, that wouldn’t be so bad. ’It sounds a little cold-blooded, but if it has nothing to do with a murder, that means I can devote less attention to it.’

’But if Gu Qiuyan’s death really was an act of revenge by another student...’

Zhang Shutong pinched the bridge of his nose.

’No, that’s not right either.’

’That would be far too childish.’

Just then, Ruoping and the others ran over, calling for him to go out for lunch. Their school was tiny. The official-sounding explanation was that to increase employment opportunities for the island’s residents, the school let students eat off-campus, which also helped support the surrounding restaurants.

Food safety wasn’t a concern. Even at the roadside stalls, it was a small island where everyone knew everyone, or at least knew *of* everyone. If you didn’t know someone personally, you’d still have a general idea of who they were. Tossing your conscience aside for a bit of cash would get you badmouthed for the rest of your life.

Ruoping called for everyone to go out for a celebratory meal for what happened last night. The four of them were about to head to a restaurant. They had wanted to invite Lu Qinglian, but when they turned around, she had already vanished, floating off to who-knows-where.

Zhang Shutong was lost in thought, so he was moving a bit sluggishly. Ruoping shot him a glare. "Still hung up on your deskmate? Skipping lunch for her? Why don’t you go find her and ask if Her Highness will deign to provide you with a meal?" she said, her tone threatening to sever their friendship.

She yanked Zhang Shutong to his feet. He felt a bit helpless but, on second thought, figured he had to eat sooner or later. ’I have no leads right now anyway,’ he thought. ’Might as well get out and walk around.’

As they walked, Du Kang took the initiative to bring up Zhou Ziheng. He was partly puzzled by the guy’s suspicious behavior and partly convinced the kid was just plain shady.

Ruoping listened for a moment, then laughed.

"You guys can’t tell that Zhou Ziheng has a crush on Gu Qiuyan? I think the reason he didn’t want to tell Shutong was pretty simple. He was just jealous, wasn’t he?"

Every girl is an expert when it comes to matters of the heart.

"Think about it from his perspective. You find out the girl you like is in danger, so you rush to warn her, but she completely ignores you. Then, a little while later, her *current* deskmate runs over asking questions. And don’t forget, Zhou Ziheng was her *old* deskmate. That contrast has to sting, right? If you were him, you’d feel the same way. You definitely wouldn’t be happy about it."

Zhang Shutong had never understood Zhou Ziheng’s attitude, but this explanation made a lot of things click into place. He nodded in sudden realization.

"That makes things much simpler..."

"What do you mean?" Ruoping asked, curious. "You know who did it?"

"No."

"Then stop talking so big."

"I’ve just ruled out Zhou Ziheng, which narrows the field."

"Shouldn’t ruling him out leave you with even fewer leads?"

Dubious, Ruoping turned to Qingyi.

"Qingyi?"

"I’ve got nothing this time, for real. But I do have one question. Does the writing on the bathroom stall really have anything to do with this? Why would someone getting revenge write a name on the partition? It’s like they’re afraid of *not* getting caught."

"Well then, Shutong, hurry up and tell us who the killer is!"

"I can’t figure out Qingyi’s point either." Zhang Shutong threw up his hands. "So I really can’t be sure who it is right now. I only have a rough theory. It’s half-baked, and I won’t know for sure until tomorrow at the earliest."

Ruoping pouted and ignored him.

The group went back to talking about lunch. Their destination was the island’s only commercial street, located in its center.

They chose the commercial street because, for a celebratory meal, eating rice bowls at the school gate just didn’t have enough pizzazz.

But since you couldn’t find a KFC or McDonald’s—the holy grails of teenage hangouts—on the island, they settled for the next best thing: a trip to the most bustling place around.

But "bustling" deserved air quotes. It was really just a long street lined with shops: a supermarket, bubble tea places, various restaurants, a book rental store, and a dollar store that sold little knick-knacks.

As the saying goes, "small but complete." The place even had fried chicken and hamburgers. Zhang Shutong seemed to recall a place called "Winner Winner Chicken"? ’You have to admit,’ he thought, ’that’s pretty creative.’

The bike ride from school to the commercial street took just over ten minutes. Returning to this place, Zhang Shutong felt a pang of nostalgia.

The whole street was about ten meters wide, roughly the width of four car lanes. It was flanked by storefronts of varying heights, though none were taller than two stories. Typically, people lived on the upper floor and ran their shops on the ground floor.

Other students also biked here to hang out, mostly girls. They came to eat or maybe to buy accessories like hair ties and clips. Ruoping’s backpack was full of that stuff.

But even with the students and passersby, the street was never crowded and was poorly maintained.