After eight long years, Zhang Shutong returned once again to the small island where he grew up.
—To attend the funeral of a middle school classmate.
*
The funeral ho was located in the southern part of the island, adjacent to the newly built lakeside highway.
Leaning against the roadside guardrail and gazing into the distance, on clear days the lake surface reflected the pure sky like a deep blue gemstone. When wind blew across, even the clouds would ripple along with it, refreshing one's heart and mind.
Today's lake surface, however, was an iron-gray color.
The sky was overcast. The mont he stepped out of the funeral ho's main entrance, Zhang Shutong imdiately pulled his windbreaker tighter.
It was freezing cold. He'd left in such a hurry that he forgot to add an extra layer of clothing. Inside the funeral ho it was at least warr, but the funeral music was so loud it gave him a headache. After staying for a while, he'd rather co out and endure the cold.
The proceedings were almost finished, but since they'd been classmates together—a sowhat special relationship—it wouldn't be appropriate to leave imdiately.
With nothing to do, he glanced at his phone. Just past 2 PM. The funeral still hadn't ended, and scattered people were still arriving from various places.
Like right now—Zhang Shutong saw two elderly won passing by, muttering about sothing.
"Such a sha, such a pretty girl. I watched her grow up when she was little."
"Yes, so young, how could she be so troubled? Now her family line is completely cut off."
"Who knows? What about that little boyfriend of hers? Didn't they say he called to break up with her just the day before? Another heartless bastard..."
Hearing this, Zhang Shutong sighed softly and bit down on the soft flesh inside his cheek—a small habit of his when he was at a loss for words.
He'd heard similar rumors countless tis today, to the point where he didn't even feel like refuting them anymore.
Of the two people ntioned in that conversation, one was naturally the deceased classmate.
As for the other—that "heartless little boyfriend"—if he wasn't mistaken, they were referring to him.
For precisely this reason, he hadn't dared reveal his identity throughout the entire funeral. He'd been avoiding the crowds the whole ti; otherwise, even ten mouths wouldn't be enough to explain himself clear.
But the reason for this completely baseless misunderstanding was actually quite convoluted.
It probably had to start from a few days ago:
He received the obituary notice for that female classmate the afternoon before yesterday.
It happened so suddenly. By the ti he hurriedly booked tickets, transferred through several vehicles from the city where he'd settled, and took a boat to reach the island, it was already this morning.
Yet even now with the funeral nearly over, his brain was still processing this information.
Shock outweighed grief.
Zhang Shutong was twenty-four years old this year.
At this age, he'd imagined his interactions with classmates would be attending soone's wedding, or if they were in a particular hurry, maybe eating so celebratory noodles and exchanging a few teasing remarks.
He never would have thought that the first classmate gathering he'd attend after graduation would actually be a funeral.
Zhang Shutong had never been a nostalgic person—otherwise he wouldn't have gone eight years without returning to the island even once.
Even so, upon learning of the girl's passing, a faint sense of regret rose in his heart.
Actually, describing her as a "girl" wasn't quite accurate, but his mories of middle school all remained frozen eight years ago.
Middle school was a four-year program. At thirteen, he'd moved to the island with his parents when their work was transferred. He left when they moved to the neighboring provincial capital after graduation, only sixteen years old at the ti.
Naturally, his impression of his peers consisted of youthful faces.
In his mory, she was a very beautiful girl. Her personality was cool and aloof. She always wore her hair in a high ponytail and had excellent grades.
But she didn't fit the stereotypical image of a well-behaved girl.
The young woman spoke very little, habitually kept to herself, and her whereabouts were difficult to predict.
Their school was built on the island's outskirts. Outside the school gate were two roads—one leading to the town inside, one leading up the mountain behind.
After school each day, the girl always took the second route.
It wasn't clear whether the mountain path led to her ho. All anyone knew was that while everyone else went ho to do howork, she'd briskly shoulder her backpack with a kind of carefree air, as if she were running off to save the world after school.
It was precisely this air of mystery that made many boys in the class like her.
But she always had a quality that kept people at a thousand miles' distance, so it was rare for anyone to strike up a conversation with her. She didn't even have any sa-sex friends.
To use a phrase popular nowadays, even if she wasn't the white moonlight in everyone's hearts, she was at least the kind of existence that, many years later when people recalled those dim and hazy adolescent years, would make even their mories shine a bit brighter.
But the reason his mories were so vivid wasn't simply because she was pretty—it was because she was considerably more "special" than the rest of them middle schoolers.
Just as every white moonlight girl had a legend behind her, the island called Yanlong Island also had its share of ancient legends.
The island was surrounded by water on three sides, backed by mountains on one.
On the mountain stood a temple called the Green Snake Temple, its origins impossible to trace. All anyone knew was that the locals believed in it deeply—the incense offerings never ceased year-round.
He only learned later that besides being a student, the girl's other identity was that of a temple keeper at the Green Snake Temple.
Only she and her grandmother lived at the temple. On major holidays, she would take leave from class. At those tis, her ponytail would hang loose as shoulder-length hair, and she'd return to the temple to help out for several days.
But the term "temple keeper" felt rather foreign to modern life.
He and a few close friends had even debated it several tis:
So said temple keepers were Daoist priests, others said they were nuns, still others said they were sisters—which prompted soone to argue what nonsense, sisters were a foreign thing, obviously she was a miko...
In any case, for a very long ti, his impression of this female classmate always involved imagining her as a fairy-like figure with flowing robes and cascading black hair.
Once she ca to class without changing clothes, wearing a long blue-green robe.
She paid no mind to others' gazes—it was like having a girl who'd returned from cultivating immortality sitting in the classroom.
It couldn't be called a crush, but putting himself in others' shoes, it would probably be the kind of scene where many years later, soone would dig up her wedding photos from their social dia feed, and a group of people would wail about their lost youth.
But what Zhang Shutong saw was a black-and-white morial portrait.
He had no other mories beyond this.
Perhaps there had been other interactions back then, but ti was enough to wash away many things one thought were unforgettable, let alone a nodding acquaintance from school.
Adults and children viewed problems differently. Many questions that seed impossible to understand back then could now be t with sudden comprehension and a nod.
But only regarding this young woman—she kept surfacing in his mind these past few days. Like a puzzle that arrived eight years too late.
The two of them weren't close. What he couldn't figure out wasn't her death—
But rather, why on the night before her death—three days ago in the middle of the night—she had called him.
Zhang Shutong hadn't been able to answer that call.
He habitually put his phone on silent before bed. When he woke up and discovered a missed call labeled "Lu Qinglian," he puzzled over it for quite a while.
Wrong number?
That would definitely be most people's first reaction.
Eight years had passed. It was uncertain whether she even rembered him as a person. But relying on his decent impression of her, he called back, only to find it wouldn't connect.
This matter didn't weigh on his mind for long. Then, all the way until the next afternoon—
Zhang Shutong received news of Lu Qinglian's death.
Actually, he didn't usually go out much. To put it coldly, with this level of acquaintance, he originally wouldn't have gone at all—at most he'd have asked a familiar classmate to deliver a gift on his behalf.
But because of that phone call, sothing that should have had little to do with him suddenly beca profoundly connected.
Especially yesterday, when he received inquiries from the police and learned that she basically never used tools like cell phones.
She was a temple keeper girl who lived on the mountain. Before, he'd only thought she was like a fairy. Perhaps after all these years, the girl had grown up and truly lived as a fairy who consud no mortal food.
All these years she'd remained on that mountain, and the day before her death, she'd made only one phone call—to Zhang Shutong alone.
Honestly, he really couldn't handle this. It made him feel stifled.
The police must have asked people on the island about their relationship. Then sohow the news leaked, and all kinds of rumors beca unstoppable:
So said it was her boyfriend who called her, planning to break up, finding her personality too cold, her family circumstances poor, etc.
So said it was a call for help.
Others said it was murder—that she'd sensed sothing was wrong in advance and revealed information about the killer to him.
There were even supernatural explanations involving gods and ghosts.
In any case, Zhang Shutong had heard no less than five versions, but he didn't know much of the inside story either. He'd only heard that she had accidentally fallen into the lake. The nature of the incident had already been determined—it was classified as an accident.
...For now, he'd just consider it an accident.
Actually, Zhang Shutong didn't really care about the truth. He ca here only to see if there was any possibility of salvation.
An accident that occurred on the island eight years ago had granted him this ability.
And precisely because of this, if not for this funeral, he probably would never return here in his lifeti.
It was probably a story like Ye Gong's love of dragons, and unfortunately, he himself was the protagonist:
He rembered it was the sumr after the high school entrance exams. Every year at this ti, the Green Snake Temple would hold a festival.
That day, he and a few close friends ran over to join the excitent. The scene was packed with people, and they couldn't squeeze in.
Boys being wild, he went around to the back of the temple alone to climb the wall. But he wasn't careful—he stepped on loose stones, rolled straight down the mountain, and lost consciousness.
When he woke again, the sky had darkened, but he was lying on a bed in a clinic.
His friends later told him that he'd been unconscious on the mountainside behind the temple with a gash on his head. An old woman had discovered him.
He was lucky. If his luck had been worse, who would have thought to look for him there?
His parents wanted to thank her, but after saving him, she'd simply disappeared.
This close call granted him an ability beyond ordinary people.
And it was on this very day that the trajectory of his life was completely altered.
Zhang Shutong nad this ability "Regression."
The specific trigger chanism was that if sothing bad happened around him, he would return to the critical point before the incident occurred.
Usually a few minutes or a few days earlier.
It was as if soone were forcing him to prevent that bad thing from happening.
Whether he was willing or not, he'd be forcibly swept up in it.
And if he didn't resolve it, the regression would trigger again, cycling endlessly.
If you asked what he thought at the ti, it was actually quite simple. He was just excited. After all, ti regression and such—it sounded like a super cool ability that could save the world.
"—Only I am unique."
No boy that age could resist such a notion.
Initially, Zhang Shutong did indeed do many "good deeds" in the conventional sense.
After advancing to high school, just in the first year alone, on his daily bike rides to school, he used regression to prevent several car accidents.
That was probably 2013, right around when The Amazing Spider-Man was released. He left the midnight showing, walked all the way ho with the wind blowing on him, not feeling cold at all—like he'd received trendous encouragent.
The friendly neighborhood Spider-Man might not be real, but at least in their residential area, he was.
Though he never encountered any villains, that year he successfully stopped two dostic violence cases and one affair, saving three marriages.
Then there was his brand-new high school life:
Those who couldn't handle rejection and wanted to give up.
Those under too much academic pressure who wanted to jump off buildings.
Those whose families had various troubles...
He gradually beca overwhelmingly busy. Regression would often trigger once every few days.
Being able to help others naturally brought joy, though he was exhausted each ti.
He'd fallen for a senior student once. It was sumr. He'd always had decent social skills, and once they got to know each other, the two agreed to see a movie after midterm exams. However, that day Zhang Shutong stood her up.
Not because he didn't care.
A young mother sat in the theater lobby, crying uncontrollably. Uniford police surrounded the scene. From scattered fragnts of conversation, he learned of a child's disappearance.
Before he could react further, the next mont, regression triggered.
That day he regressed five tis before finally finding the abducted child, then collapsed at ho in utter exhaustion.
But that sumr date seed to beco a reality he could never reach.
It was also that day Zhang Shutong discovered a terrifying truth.
He could help others escape their unbearable pasts.
But the one trapped in the past had beco himself.
Regression kept triggering continuously, beyond his control.
From Monday to Friday—for anyone else it would be one week's ti, but for him, it felt as long as a month.
Finally, in his senior year, he nearly collapsed from the endless regressions and was almost diagnosed with split personality disorder by doctors, on the grounds that his mind contained many "mories" that didn't exist.
During the worst period, he holed up alone in a rental room, not daring to contact the outside world. He could only rely on food delivery for als. Even if he occasionally wanted to go out for so air, he had to pick the middle of the night.
Then he took a leave of absence. To seek treatnt, he moved with his parents to a more distant city and transferred to a new school.
Sothing miraculous happened.
The frequency of regressions decreased significantly.
Those trivial matters no longer pulled him back to the past.
But it only decreased—like an eternal nightmare. The ability he accidentally gained at sixteen completely changed his life. Unable to live normally, he could only try his best to keep going.
Later he persevered through university graduation. Because he had to reduce the frequency of contact with others, he moved out on his own and found a work-from-ho job.
Over these years he'd saved so money. Supporting himself wasn't difficult, but sotis in his cold and quiet room, he'd think about the future.
His parents aging, marriage and children... Where was his future? For now, he still couldn't see it.
He still didn't like going out much these days, and life wasn't particularly good. But at least he'd freed himself from endless regressions.
In these days where he couldn't see an end, two days ago, he received an obituary from a middle school classmate.
His experiences over the years had made him soone who feared trouble. He used to be forcibly dragged into various incidents, suffering unspeakably.
But only this once—this was the first ti Zhang Shutong actively wanted to use his ability, to listen to the contents of that phone call.
Therefore, after eight long years, he returned once again to this small island that had changed his life.
Only since boarding the island two hours ago, and just a while ago when he went to the mourning hall and stayed by the body for a long ti, regression still hadn't occurred.
He should never have held hope in the first place.
Gazing at the distant lake surface, Zhang Shutong sighed.
He'd thought of this before coming, because the prerequisite for regression was definitely that sothing happened nearby.
She died when he wasn't at the scene. Though he knew hope was slim, he still wanted to co try. But reality—well, reality was consistently realistic as always. In the end, he still couldn't salvage anything.
Today there was no wind or waves. The lake surface was an almost frozen iron-gray. Leaning against the guardrail, he lit a cigarette—one handed out at the funeral.
He'd quit a long ti ago. He just lit it reflexively, without smoking it, holding it between his fingers, watching the smoke drift away.
It couldn't be called heavy. People always had to learn to reconcile with reality. He'd gotten used to that long ago.
Powerlessness, despair, self-abandonnt—all these emotions weren't absent from his past life.
In the blink of an eye, eight years had passed. Now that he'd returned to this lakeside and recalled the past, his emotions weren't as turbulent as he'd imagined. He just felt... a faint regret.
There was no reason to continue staying.
Just as he was about to go inform soone at the funeral ho, soone suddenly thumped his shoulder.
He turned around. The newcor was a young man with short hair and a grinning face—a close friend from middle school.
His friend's na was Du Kang, nad after the Du Kang from the saying "What can relieve my worries? Only Du Kang." He'd always had a carefree personality.
Over the years, he'd stayed local and taken over his family's small restaurant. He knew everything about the island like the back of his hand. In fact, it was Du Kang who had inford him of Lu Qinglian's death.
He'd been helping out at the funeral and had found a mont of respite to co out and chat.
"You little bastard, so you finally decided to co back?"
Childhood playmates—even after years apart, they still felt close. But Zhang Shutong didn't know how to respond to that remark. He could only shrug his shoulders and smile apologetically.
"How about I show you around in a bit? Qingyi couldn't make it, but Ruoping and the others are here. Want to grab dinner together tonight?"
Zhang Shutong could only decline politely again.
He really wanted to go, but he really couldn't. He was afraid that once soone had a few drinks and started complaining about how life wasn't treating them well... he probably wouldn't be able to leave after that.
"You're still the sa as ever."
The repeated refusals made his friend's smile falter. Du Kang complained:
"Just like back in school—you barely say a word for ages. Always wearing black clothes. Oh, and wearing a trench coat in this freezing weather, trying to look cool for or sothing? Though the girls all thought that was called being 'aloof.' I still don't know why you and Qingyi were the most popular."
He thought to himself that this was a misunderstanding. He'd simply left ho in a hurry, and all his clothes were black—there was nothing else. He wasn't trying to look cool at all.
And why the hell would you have that impression? I didn't even know that myself.
"Don't argue. It's been so long since we've seen each other, so just listen when I'm giving you shit."
Zhang Shutong, who had been about to say sothing, bit down on the soft flesh inside his mouth, torn between laughter and tears.
The two stood by the highway for a while. Du Kang rubbed his face, pulled out a cigarette and lit it. After a long mont, he finally said:
"So... want to talk about her?"
Zhang Shutong knew that "her" referred to Lu Qinglian.
Du Kang had always harbored a secret crush on this old classmate. There was that one ti when so girls had been talking shit about Lu Qinglian behind her back. When he found out, he threw their schoolbags into the boys' bathroom and was kept ho for several days.
Strong in action, he'd even confessed his feelings once, but failed. After all these years with both of them staying on the island, who knew if there'd been any real progress between them.
He figured Du Kang must be feeling terrible. Just as he assud a listening posture, Du Kang stared straight at the lake surface and suddenly said:
"She was murdered."
Zhang Shutong froze.
"I'm saying soone killed Lu Qinglian! I've told several people, and not a single one believes ."
Du Kang took a fierce drag on his cigarette:
"I saw her just last week. She was as normal as could be, busy repairing the deity statues in the temple. There was absolutely nothing wrong. Do you really believe what people are saying—that she was in a bad mood and killed herself?
"And the 'accidental drowning' story is bullshit too. She usually stayed at the temple, sotis going to the school to keep so kids company. Why would she suddenly go to the lakeside for no reason? And in the middle of the damn night... what was she doing in the middle of the night, fishing? Swimming?"
He grew more agitated as he spoke, finally slamming his hand on the guardrail in front of him:
"When her body was discovered, it was in the 'Forbidden Zone.' Shutong, you still rember the Forbidden Zone, right?"
It took Zhang Shutong a mont to recall what those two words ant.
Actually, they were code nas that he and the others had given to several areas on the island during their chunibyo phase.
"Divine Temple," "Base," "Forbidden Zone," and so on.
"Divine Temple" was easiest to understand—it was the Green Snake Temple in the mountains.
"Base" was an abandoned large drainage pipe where they often played after school, treating it as their secret base.
And the "Forbidden Zone" referred to a certain stretch of water on the north side of the island's lake. Because the terrain was low and it never received sunlight, the surrounding area always looked desolate. Sparse weeds, hardly any fish—almost no one went there.
The reason it was called the Forbidden Zone was both complex and straightforward—
Because people had died in those waters, and more than one.
Hazy mories surged through his mind.
Zhang Shutong had vivid impressions of two incidents:
One had already occurred before he moved to the island.
Getting on and off the island required taking a boat. The dock's operating hours were from 8 AM to 6 PM.
Supposedly, over a decade ago, a group of college students ca to stay on the island and spent an entire day excitedly exploring the nearby town. By the ti they rushed to the dock, it was already evening. They waited forever, but where was any ferry to be seen?
It was the dead of winter, snowing heavily. With snot freezing across their faces, they obviously couldn't just wait on the shore all night. The bus back was gone too. Just as the group was running out of options and panicking, a fishing boat suddenly approached.
It turned out to be a local fisherman who took pity on them and was willing to give them a ride.
The fishing boat was quite large, so the group of a dozen or so people set off. The first half of the journey was calm and smooth, but halfway through, the boat inexplicably sank.
The strange thing was, when the group was discovered, the fishing boat was floating perfectly fine on the lake surface—neither capsized nor leaking—yet all those living people had drowned just like that.
No one knew what had happened along the way. The location where the boat sank was precisely the Forbidden Zone just ntioned. A special task force was supposedly established. The official investigation concluded that the snow had been too heavy that night and had pressed the boat down. Later, when the snow lted, it naturally floated back up.
Zhang Shutong always rembered this because his mother used to use it to scare him when he was little.
As for the second incident, though his mory was fuzzy, it pointed more clearly to sothing that happened in their second year of middle school—a female classmate went missing. But before he could recall more details, Du Kang interrupted:
"You rember that murder case, right?"
Yes, that murder case.
In their second year of middle school, a vicious incident occurred on the island. The victim was a girl from their class.
Initially, she just didn't co to school. Back then, it wasn't like now with various class groups for reporting absences. The school and parents lacked communication, causing both sides to be careless about it.
But ultimately, it was the parents' irresponsibility that led to disaster. Only after their child had been missing for a full day did they think to report it, delaying the search and rescue.
By the ti that female student was found, she'd already been killed.
The place where the body was discovered was likewise in the "Forbidden Zone."
Their horoom teacher at the ti resigned in disgrace. The school specially brought in people to provide psychological counseling. Combined with the adults' deliberate avoidance, many details beca blurred.
He only rembered that she was the daughter of a wealthy family, with very spirited, very beautiful eyes.
Her voice was crisp, with a hint of arrogance.
If Zhang Shutong had any slightly deeper impression of her, it was probably that she always wore a red scarf. Even during class, she kept it on.
The reason he could rember this was because his desk mate had told him she was "putting on airs."
Later, soone stepped on her scarf, but sohow the bla ended up on him, and she just kept glaring at him with those eyes of hers.
And shortly before she went missing, he seed to have seen her sowhere outside school...
He was frowning, trying to rember, when Du Kang suddenly said:
"Shutong, you may have forgotten, but I've always rembered sothing. Do you rember what date that girl went missing?"
Then Du Kang coldly announced a date:
"December 10th.
"None of you rember, but that day happened to be my birthday, so I've always rembered very clearly that a classmate didn't co to class that day.
"Now take a look at what date it is today?"
As he spoke, Du Kang thrust his phone screen in front of his face. When he saw the date clearly, his pupils constricted.
Today was December 12th.
Didn't that an that two days ago was...
"What about the police—" Zhang Shutong suddenly felt a chill.
"Not quite. When Qinglian was discovered, there were no fatal wounds on her body. Plus, the island has surveillance caras now, unlike back then. And aside from her, no one else was seen."
Du Kang deflated but still said reluctantly:
"But that's exactly why I'm so frustrated. If I had to produce evidence, I can't find any, but there's this coincidence staring in the face. Without a reasonable explanation, I can't feel at ease.
"These past few days I keep dreaming about Qinglian, dreaming that she's by the lakeside, sa as before, not saying much... Let's wait until tomorrow. After we finish settling the funeral arrangents, I'll go to the town archives to take a look. Maybe I can discover other details about that case from back then."
He looked at his friend's face, was silent for a mont, then finally said apologetically:
"Let know if you find anything. Even though I can't help much, at least..."
"Don't talk about that, Shutong. Everyone's had their own troubles over the years. It's not like when we said we'd be friends for life. Actually, whether you help or not doesn't matter. This is sothing I want to do. It wouldn't be right to drag you guys into it. I just..."
Du Kang paused and crushed the cigarette with his hand:
"I'm just a little jealous of you.
"There's sothing I've been holding in, and once I say it, I'll feel better. Tell , why wasn't I the one who got that phone call?
"It was only around 11 o'clock then, right? I stay up way later than that—I definitely would have answered. Once I answered, no matter what happened, I would have rushed over. Maybe she wouldn't have died.
"But why did she call you—soone she hadn't contacted in eight years? I know all those rumors are false, but people are saying boyfriend this and that, and I... sorry."
His shoulders slumped:
"Let's not talk about this now. I still have things to do. You might not know, but Qinglian was the only one left in her family. She had a grandmother she depended on, but she passed away a few years ago too. So there's no one to help arrange the funeral—just and Ruoping and a few others.
"Sorry for not being a better host this ti. Co visit more often in the future."
Saying this, he forced out the grinning face from when they'd first t, but the smile looked rather unpleasant.
Zhang Shutong didn't respond, only patted his shoulder:
"Let help too."
And so, in the end, he couldn't leave after all.
...
The plan had been to take the boat off the island in the afternoon and catch the last high-speed train tonight, so he'd be ho tomorrow night. He'd arranged everything in a hurry—not because he had urgent matters, but because he worried about complications arising that would trigger that damned ability.
But now the plan had deviated quite far. By the ti they finished, it was already dark. Du Kang had booked him a hotel room and refused to accept paynt no matter what.
There had been talk of getting dinner together, but everyone had been busy all day and wasn't in high spirits, so they just wolfed down so boxed als and called it a day.
After eating, they chatted about embarrassing stories from back in the day. Unexpectedly, the conversation turned to him.
"Oh my, little boyfriend." The girl nad Ruoping covered her mouth and giggled.
Zhang Shutong knew she was definitely doing it on purpose, taking advantage of their old friendship to tease him about the dayti rumors.
"How do you all know about this already?" he said helplessly.
"It spread everywhere ages ago. Rember our horoom teacher? Today he specifically asked where Zhang Shutong was. Now it's not a question of whether people know or not, but which version you believe."
"Actually, besides the boyfriend, distress call, and information about the killer versions, there's another one. Want to hear it?"
"What?" Ruoping's eyes imdiately widened.
"She visited in a dream," Zhang Shutong recalled seriously. "In the dream, she asked , 'That Feng Ruoping has always been such a gossip—how co she's still like this now?'"
"Zhang Shutong, you can fuck right off—"
Then a few classmates from out of town revived with full energy, shouting about going to a bar or KTV to relax. But then they rembered that the island didn't have any of those things—didn't have them before, didn't have them now.
But it did make Zhang Shutong recall mories from his student days for the first ti in a while. The island was called Yanlong Island. Though it was called a small island, it was really no different from a town surrounded by lake water. It wasn't backward either, just had a bit more of an isolated-from-the-world feel to it.
When he first moved here, he wasn't happy about it, complaining there was too little to do.
The island had no shopping malls, no movie theaters, no amusent parks, and no KFC or McDonald's.
But he quickly integrated. Going on adventures in the mountains, fishing in the lake, eating local specialties at temple fairs and festivals—fried shrimp cakes and fish congee had their own unique flavor. Lotus seeds were sweet in sumr.
In a sense, even if you wanted to be a bad kid, there really wasn't much room to go bad.
Small island, large lake, deep mountains, temples and ancient legends, a group of young boys and girls...
Their school was built on the outer edge of the island. Climbing to the roof of the teaching building, breathing in the cool lake breeze, you could see the surrounding scenery.
If you wanted to go on a date with a girl you liked, you had to take a boat to a nearby town, but be careful not to lose track of ti, because the ferry ho stopped running at 6 PM.
And since you still had to attend classes during the day and no one paid attention on weekends, "secretly taking a boat to see a movie with the girl you like" beca a thought the boys kept thinking about but never acted upon.
If only they could do it over, perhaps things would be different.
Sotis such thoughts would arise.
The deceased classmate, the missing girl.
And a normal life.
As humans grow older, they increasingly discover what a precious thing regret dicine truly is.
Zhang Shutong had many pills of regret dicine in his hands, but not one he could take himself.
He could never return to his own past.
When the sky turned completely dark, though it wasn't entirely proper, they bowed three more tis before the portrait and parted ways at the funeral hall, everyone saying their goodbyes.
As they were leaving, Du Kang had sothing to say:
"I just searched online. The killer from that case back then was never caught. There were testimonies from a few fishern who said they saw soone in the Forbidden Zone before the incident... I'll look into it more when I get ho."
On the way back to the hotel, Zhang Shutong kept thinking about those words.
...If only the killer really was one person, but how could it be such a coincidence?
No, that was no longer a coincidence—it would be a full-blown horror story.
Just because it happened on the sa day at the sa location, you conclude it's a serial murder case? What about motive?
Would the killer from back then, instead of hiding under an assud na for life, actually dare to co back and kill again? That would be insanely bold.
But if it really was murder, then that phone call from Lu Qinglian...
Zhang Shutong shook his head, feeling he was overthinking things.
After all, it had been eight years.
He glanced at his phone again. The ti was 8:34 PM.
The wind had picked up. Unable to sleep anyway, he got dressed, fastened his trench coat to the first button, borrowed a flashlight from the hotel front desk, and headed out into the cold wind.
There were few passing vehicles, and the streetlights weren't very bright. Fortunately, the hotel Du Kang had booked was close to his destination.
Following mories from years ago, he walked for more than ten minutes, crossed over the guardrail of the lake-circling road, and landed on weed-covered wasteland.
—Ahead lay the water area known as the Forbidden Zone.
There was no moonlight tonight. He turned on the flashlight—the lake surface appeared deathly pale. He couldn't hear any frogs or insects calling, only sll the fishy stench emanating from the silt.
Looking around, he could indeed find traces of dried grass that had been trampled, probably left by the police during their search a few days ago.
Zhang Shutong crouched by the lakeside like this, waiting until the night wind made his body stiff with cold.
So this was where that temple keeper girl nad Lu Qinglian had ended her life.
The reeds by the lake rustled. He suddenly felt as if he were in another world.
But what could he do?
He laughed self-deprecatingly.
No evidence, no clues. Even the only Regression he could rely on was useless here.
When it ca down to it, he wasn't like Du Kang—he didn't have an obsession built up from over a decade of secret love. Since he couldn't return to the mont before her death, coming here was already the greatest effort within his capabilities.
But he was still sorry.
Zhang Shutong stared at the lake surface with that final thought.
For not answering your call, and for not finding the truth.
He apologized in his heart and slowly stood up, his body stiff.
It was getting late. Ti to go back.
The mont this thought arose, Zhang Shutong pulled out his phone.
The wind grew even stronger. The weeds around him suddenly began to stir violently.
Then sothing cold and sharp stabbed into the back of his neck.
His phone dropped to the ground.
In the last mont before consciousness faded, he saw the ti displayed on the screen.
December 12, 2020.
8:59 PM flickered and jumped to 9:00.
Regression had been triggered.
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