Winter Time Rendering

Chapter 23: Chapter 7: The Youths’ Trio (Part 3)

"Are you free after school? There’s something I want to talk to you about."

’Of course, I knew it...’

Zhang Shutong pinched the bridge of his nose.

He had considered the chain reaction that piece of scratch paper would cause. He’d thought about Song Nanshan, about the other students, about his best friends, and even about Gu Qiuyan. But he had completely forgotten to consider her.

The girl kept her head down, coolly found the right spot to pierce the carton with her straw, and added:

"You’d better be there. It’s very important."

’This girl is terrifying. How could she wait this long to finally drink it?’

Still, she was easy to deal with. Just as Stand users are drawn to one another, people of few words also prefer people of few words.

Zhang Shutong put on a perfectly perplexed expression.

"I’m busy."

"Doing what?" The girl frowned, her expression surprisingly intimidating.

"Fishing."

"And after you’re done fishing?"

"..."

Zhang Shutong sighed. "If this is about that *Five-Three* workbook, and it caused you any trouble, I..."

"Oh, I was the one who collected it." Lu Qinglian took a sip of her milk, her thin eyebrows relaxing. "So you’re busy all day today?"

Zhang Shutong nodded.

"I see."

With that, she turned away impassively. The conversation came to an abrupt halt, as if the "very important" thing she’d just mentioned wasn’t nearly as important as drinking her milk.

’That’s it?’

Zhang Shutong blinked.

He suddenly understood how Song Nanshan must have felt not long ago.

Riddlers aren’t made overnight. ’Lady, a personality like yours is going to be dangerous in eight years.’

The nonsensical conversation lingered in his mind for a while.

He was now walking through the snow-covered campus. The ground was slick, forcing him to slow his pace.

Everything around him was just as he remembered. The red sunset bathed the world in a warm glow. The ping-pong tables were a blanket of white. Through the fence, he could see the distant lake, also tinged with warmth and shimmering with silver ripples. He watched for a moment before the light became too glaring.

He closed his eyes and listened. Students running and walking, the WHOOSH of a few snowballs flying past, some kid slipping and falling to the ground...

Back then, he was probably just like them—a kid who only cared about running wild.

Wanting to eat, to sleep, to play. Sometimes wanting to just stop and watch the clouds drift aimlessly overhead.

’What was it that turned me into the person I later became?’

The truth was, it was impossible to trace it back now.

But since he was back, he would make up for the regrets of the past.

And Zhang Shutong promptly got stuck on the very first step of making up for his regrets—he had forgotten where he’d parked his bicycle.

After wandering around the bike shed for ages, he finally found a familiar one:

A deep blue, Flying Pigeon brand bicycle. Its handlebars were a little crooked, and the frame was covered in sea animal stickers that still looked cool even now.

There was a double-sided bag on the top tube—one side for a water bottle, the other for a flashlight.

He had modified the back rack, attaching a square box to it. He opened it and saw a telescopic fishing rod and, surprisingly, a retractable baton.

Zhang Shutong suddenly broke into a smile.

’No wonder I never had a girlfriend—how was I supposed to give a girl a ride with no back seat?’

The snow was in a state of half-melt. The ground was scored with blackish-gray ruts and footprints. The islanders were used to this; at most, they’d sprinkle some salt. De-icing agents were unheard of here.

During bad weather, the neighbors would come out to shovel snow, working up a storm. Sometimes, even the students were mobilized to help.

He carefully rode out of the school gates and headed for the island’s only police station.

This was the plan he had decided on the moment he’d returned. Zhang Shutong called it Plan A. As for Plan B, that was like Ultraman’s finishing move—something to think about only when Plan A failed.

School let out at five. The ride took over twenty minutes, during which he had more or less rehearsed his story: how to convince them to believe a student, how to focus their attention on the case four days from now... He thought his plan was perfect.

However, less than a minute after entering the police station, Zhang Shutong was hauled out.

Literally hauled out. The officer on duty was a brawny, bear-like man with dark skin and a scar on his face. Coincidentally, his surname was actually Xiong, which means "bear."

Officer Xiong glared with his large, round eyes and bellowed in a thick local dialect:

"How many times do I have to tell you schoolboys? It’s the off-season for fishing! We just got a notice from above to conduct a strict ’pro-be’! You know what a ’pro-be’ is?"

He actually meant to say "investigation."

"But you little rascals still dare to show your faces! That last one, the baby-faced kid, lied to me about someone using electrofishing gear on the east side. The moment I went to patrol there, you little punks turned around and went fishing on the west side! Now you’re spouting even more nonsense, something about a suspect!"

"If I catch you again, I’m reporting you straight to your school and sending you home to reflect on what you’ve done! Got it?"

"Got it, got it..." Zhang Shutong replied feebly, slipping back into the local dialect for the first time in ages.

He rubbed his temples. Poor Plan A was officially bankrupt. It had lasted about as long as the timer on Ultraman’s chest, the red light flashing after just a few minutes.

He glanced at his own hands and couldn’t help but laugh and curse his past self. ’Damn, kid, just how obsessed with fishing were you...?’

’Ah, forget it...’

He had no choice but to get back on his bike, pull on his tactical gloves, and double-check the retractable baton in the bike box. Facing the sunset, he squinted and pushed down on the pedal.

The bicycle slowly carved a long rut in the slushy snow.

’Looks like I have to go check out the "restricted zone" after all.’