"Probably."
This response was somewhat unexpected.
Zhang Shutong had thought she would ignore his statement. While ignoring it would have been a form of tacit admission, her speaking so bluntly made it hard for him to follow up.
He froze for a moment, then could only say, "...My condolences."
He had already long suspected her parents' situation. For people who hadn't shown up in all these years, there was no real difference between being missing and having passed away.
"Still," Zhang Shutong said carefully, choosing his words, "since you already anticipated this, could you tell me about your mother if it's convenient? Why did she become a 'clay figure'?"
"I have very few memories of her, including her death. This is also my first time seeing a photograph of her."
"Is that the 'first time' in the sense that I'm thinking?"
"Both during her life and after her death," Lu Qinglian said softly.
Zhang Shutong found it unbelievable at first, but then it felt completely reasonable. Logically speaking, how could a person go through life without leaving behind a single photograph? Selfies from trips, group photos with friends from parties, various anniversaries and birthdays... But forget about the era of Lu Qinglian's mother; even Lu Qinglian herself had basically left nothing behind.
Zhang Shutong also remembered a rumor in class. It was said that during their graduation year, the school hired a professional photographer to take pictures for everyone, and asked each student to submit a photo from their daily life to create a yearbook.
The rumor was that only Lu Qinglian didn't go to pick up her yearbook. Zhang Shutong actually had a copy. Over the past eight years, whenever he occasionally flipped through it, he realized belatedly that there was no lifestyle photo of her in it either. In the past, he had assumed it was because the girl was in financial straits, even though that thick stack of yearbooks wasn't particularly expensive at sixty yuan. Now, however, it seemed that might not have been the case.
There was a digital version of the graduation group photo, which was free and sent to everyone's email by Mr. Song , but she probably didn't even have an email account.
Zhang Shutong glanced again at the photograph of the woman on the wall, also understanding what Lu Qinglian meant by having "very few memories." If a clay figure remained in the state the deceased was in before dying, the woman wasn't much older than the current Lu Qinglian. Otherwise, he wouldn't have mistaken her in the past.
Early twenties? That would be the absolute maximum. Meaning, her mother really passed away when she was very, very small—two or three years old? Even if she had been slightly older, what could a child of that age actually remember?
He stopped questioning further, because Lu Qinglian's words just now were already an indirect answer.
Instead, it was Lu Qinglian who added:
"If I knew about her situation, I would tell you. But the fact is, I don't know."
"Still, don't assume people are so fragile, Zhang Shutong."
She lowered her eyes, gently tracing the scratched wooden desk.
"Since I already anticipated this, I should have prepared in advance. Besides, I just want the truth."
"The truth?"
"The murals in the temple have records regarding the clay figures. For a person whose duty was supposed to be reclaiming them to become one instead... why did she die, and what happened after her death? Isn't it perfectly normal to want to know the truth?"
She said each word deliberately:
"I am the temple keeper. My mother was one, too."
"Your grandmother doesn't know about these things either?"
"Grandmother said it was an accident. But I still remember that before she died, she had thought about leaving this island, together with my father."
"And then?"
"The 'accident' happened."
"Temple keepers aren't allowed to leave the island?"
"At least that is the rule of the temple." Lu Qinglian actively ended the topic. "Time is almost up."
As she said this phrase, Zhang Shutong was checking the secret compartments of the wooden desk. Unfortunately, it really was just a single wooden board.
"I have a new thought," Zhang Shutong said. "At first, I thought this person had stayed in this basement observing Mr. Song for a full four years. But later, I realized that might not be the case. Since they already reclaimed the clay figure, there was no reason for them to stay this long. The dust in the room also proves this.
"A greater probability is that back then, in order to find clues about the clay figure, they focused their target on Mr. Song ."
"But this brings up a new question. Mr. Song moving in here was entirely an accident; he just felt that the room on the east side got the best sunlight. However, the birth of the basement probably traces back to the last century. It's impossible that they built a dormitory building like this so early just to observe Mr. Song .
"I mean, the person staying in this basement and the person who originally built the dormitory building might not necessarily be the same one.
"So, building such a strange structure is itself very stran... cough..."
Lu Qinglian gave a hum and was about to speak, but then she knitted her brows.
"What are you doing now?"
Zhang Shutong was breathing heavily. Just now, that damned sensation had returned.
"Can't quite catch my breath... Did you find anything on your end?"
"No. If you feel anxious, leave. If Teacher Song arrives at the dormitory early, the preparations you made will be equivalent to going to waste."
"You also think we shouldn't tell him?" Zhang Shutong asked with difficulty. He forced himself to steady his breathing, but the surrounding air was thick with a musty odor, which only made him feel nauseous.
"There is no need to ask me about such things." Lu Qinglian glanced at him, her eyes gleaming faintly in the darkness. "For me, there is only what is necessary and what is not necessary. If telling him will yield no results, then it is not necessary."
She spoke completely devoid of emotion, but Zhang Shutong felt her meaning went beyond what appeared on the surface, looking more like she was searching for another reason.
However, he didn't have time to ponder what Lu Qinglian was thinking right now; his airway and his brain tightened up together.
Zhang Shutong didn't know if this enclosed space triggered the anxiety or if it was for some other reason, but this illness was truly getting in the way of things.
Left with no choice, he walked quickly up to the dormitory. The world before his eyes had completely changed into a different appearance—
It was midday, and tiny dust motes danced in the sunlight streaming through the window. He sat straight down on Mr. Song 's bed, slapping his face hard. Calm down, calm down... He forced himself to quiet down in his mind, thinking that basking in the sunlight would surely help, but the more he thought that way, the harder it became to control.
Suddenly, a wave of cold hit the back of his neck. Zhang Shutong shuddered and hurriedly spun his head around. It turned out that Lu Qinglian had stood beside him at some unknown point. She was holding an empty Red Bull can, pressing it expressionlessly against the back of his neck.
In this kind of weather, one could well imagine the temperature of an iron can that had frozen for several days and nights. Zhang Shutong's teeth chattered a bit, but that suffocating sensation also receded rapidly. Just as he exhaled a breath of stale air, Lu Qinglian withdrew her hand. The can hit the floor with a thud, and the girl stepped forward to open the dormitory window.
The oncoming cold wind slammed into Zhang Shutong's entire body, yet it made him relax inexplicably.
Zhang Shutong felt that Lu Qinglian wasn't a purely cold-blooded creature either.
He simply lay flat on his back on the bed, temporarily in no mood to speak. He had fully expected to meet Lu Qinglian's habitual ridicule—like saying he was even more fragile than she thought—but since he had been helped once again, being told off wouldn't be a big deal. Yet Lu Qinglian just stood by the window without a word.
She tilted her face up slightly, resting both hands on the windowsill, perhaps watching a cloud drift across the horizon. This dormitory building was built in the middle of a desolate, wild field, and midday was also the quietest moment of the day. As the wind blew over, her clothing rustled loudly.
This made Zhang Shutong realize that he wasn't the only one harboring pressure.
No one could be spared from this matter.
Some lost their lovers, some lost their relatives. The difference was that some swam ashore from the vortex and could temporarily put a period on the past; others remained at the very center of the vortex from start to finish, until they left this world in solitude eight years later.
Fine, in the past Zhang Shutong had thought she understood nothing, doing nothing more than silently executing her duties as a temple keeper, guarding that temple until she died. He remembered hearing Du Kang say in the original timeline that Lu Qinglian had been entirely alone for all those years—by then even her grandmother had died—and before she died, Lu Qinglian had placed a single phone call, which was also her only call, but it had been to him. He had returned to this island to attend the funeral, which led to everything today.
Only now did he realize that she had always been searching for the truth in her own way, or perhaps something a step closer than the truth.
Zhang Shutong fell silent for a long while.
"Thanks for just now."
Lu Qinglian did not speak. Her mood had been just so-so since noon. Perhaps even she hadn't noticed, but both her words and her gaze carried a bit of sharpness. Until they saw that photograph in the basement just now, this oppressive atmosphere had climbed to its absolute peak.
A crisp sound suddenly came from up ahead. Only then did Zhang Shutong realize she had tapped the metal windowsill twice with her finger, perhaps signifying that she had heard his words just now.
"I still remember the first time I saw you on the rooftop," Zhang Shutong recalled. "You told me then that if I didn't want an accident to happen, I shouldn't investigate your matters."
"If you are regretting it because of those symptoms where you can't catch your breath," Lu Qinglian said flatly, "I think it wasn't just that time on the rooftop; I should have warned you many times."
In fact, Zhang Shutong had wanted to say, No wonder you would say those kinds of words.
"But I'm the type who refuses to mend his ways despite repeated lessons." Ultimately, he just stood up and also walked over to the windowsill. "Who isn't curious about the truth? Everyone hides a little secret in their heart."
"What exactly are you trying to say?"
"Nothing in particular. Hmm... just useless words again."
Lu Qinglian let out a soft sigh, looking as if she were already tired of talking. "Classmate Zhang Shutong, please step away from me."
"Oh, you don't like physical contact with people, right?"
But Zhang Shutong could be certain this time that the two of them were clearly standing quite far apart.
"No," to his surprise, Lu Qinglian said indifferently, "you ate garlic at noon, and your breath is a bit heavy. Or have you just not smelled it the entire time?"
Zhang Shutong was choked by her words, thinking to himself that dipping into some condiments while eating hot pot was perfectly normal, right? Sesame paste with minced garlic was very fragrant. Who was like her, practically eating plain boiled vegetables.
Any mood he had to say anything vanished completely. He took a step back and let out a sigh.
"Give me a hand, let's clean up the place."
Lu Qinglian nodded.
"But I don't understand how you plan to cover this up. Buy an identical poster to paste over it?"
"We definitely won't be able to buy one." The superstar from back then was practically a little old man now; where could they still buy that kind of poster? "I want to use the excuse of helping him pack his things to box up his luggage in advance, and then lift that iron-frame bed to lean it against the wall. That way it can cover that secret door while also saving Mr. Song some strength—completely reasonable."
"A person like you truly lives in lies at all times."
"Someone is keeping me company."
Lu Qinglian gave him a look with an icy gaze.
Zhang Shutong stopped talking.
In fact, there wasn't much to clean up among Mr. Song 's things; after all, the furniture here was very meager. Zhang Shutong only had one arm capable of moving, so he sensibly went to the desk to return the teaching materials and stationery to their places, while Lu Qinglian sat by the bedside, quietly folding the other's bedding.
Zhang Shutong discovered she actually had this side to her as well.
Mr. Song 's room wasn't as sloppy as the man himself; on the contrary, it was quite tidy. In just a few minutes they finished cleaning things up, spending the rest of their time carefully peeling the photographs off the wall.
Ultimately, Zhang Shutong gently stacked these photographs into a pile, placing them inside a test paper.
That test paper was one he hadn't had time to go over after the monthly exam, featuring statistics behind each question type on how many people got it wrong. Zhang Shutong had consistently heard him ramble about wanting to leave something behind. With test papers on one side and photographs on the other, Song Nanshan had stayed on the island for so long; perhaps this was what he left behind.
"Want to go see Teacher Song off together in a bit?" Zhang Shutong asked. "After all, that was the reason we requested leave to come out. Might as well do it."
"Okay."
It seemed that in her eyes, this was a "necessary" matter.
The entire room returned to its bare-walled state. Ultimately, the two of them bid farewell in front of the secret door—yes, even the two of them had to say goodbye. The structure of the secret chamber meant that making everything look flawless was difficult, requiring one person outside the door and one person inside the door, working in coordination from both sides.
Lu Qinglian had to go back to the basement, close the door there, and then shut the entrance to the old house.
Of course, this was also a precaution just in case. Since the current clues had hit a dead end again, and they still didn't know the identity of the person in the basement or who had awakened the clay figures, it was naturally better to be careful.
They agreed to meet up at the bottom of the dormitory building in a bit.
Zhang Shutong watched Lu Qinglian's silhouette vanish into the tunnel. He watched for a bit longer until he heard the sound of that iron door locking, before pushing the secret door into place and pulling the bed over with force from one side—
Before leaving, Lu Qinglian had already stood the bed up against the wall, so it only required him to push it to the position of the secret door.
With all of this done, success was finally achieved. Zhang Shutong called his beloved teacher. The other end of the phone was boisterous and tearful, while Mr. Song talked and laughed cheerfully, sounding as if he were propping up the phone:
"Leaving right away, leaving right away. What, you're asking if I've left yet? Do you still want to come see me off?"
Yes, Zhang Shutong thought to himself.
Although the man had said to take care and implied they should never meet again, who told our master-disciple fate to be so deep.
He estimated there were still twenty minutes left. Taking advantage of this bit of time, he walked out of the dormitory building and toward the streets outside.
The afternoon of December 13.
He wasn't sure if the thing missed on the stray dog timeline was that basement room. Everything seemed to be at a complete loss, yet it also seemed to have a clue.
This place was very close to the police station. Zhang Shutong intended to check who had built this dormitory building back then, and whether there was a record of the death of Lu Qinglian's mother.
He didn't have a bicycle right now, relying entirely on his two legs to walk. Very few students were wandering outside at this hour. Along the way, he passed a small supermarket and bought the chewing gum he had been longing for—Wrigley's Juicy Fruit, a flavor that would become completely out of print in the future.
While paying the bill, he blew a bubble, and a little girl beside him watched him longingly.
"Want to have some?"
Zhang Shutong asked with a smile, just about to hand her a piece of bubble gum, when the girl was suddenly pulled away vigilantly by her mother.
From behind came the sudden sound of the little girl wailing.
The mother, on the other hand, instructed in a low voice:
"Look at this older brother—not only is he skipping school, but one of his arms is also in a sling..."
"But Mommy said that good-looking older brothers aren't bad people!"
The bubble popped.
When he walked into the police station, his acquaintances were all gathered together.
Sitting in the office were Officer Xiong and Deputy Officer Wang.