Winter Time Rendering

Chapter 7: Chapter 2: Winter’s Reappearance (Part 2)

Zhang Shutong was sincerely grateful for that bullet.

Once he’d composed himself and looked up, everything before him seemed charming:

the oversized school uniform, a symbol of youth; a clear puddle of water in the middle of the snow-covered athletic field; even the thick exam prep book open on his desk...

Alright, he took another look and decided it still wasn’t so charming.

Zhang Shutong had been through a lot, so after the initial rush of excitement, he quickly calmed down.

As much as he wanted to enjoy this second chance at life, carefree, there were some things he had to figure out first.

For instance, what was the deal with this strange time-rewind.

After a moment’s thought, he had a pretty good idea.

First, the known fact: he was killed.

The trigger condition was "something bad happening to those around him."

’I always thought the ability couldn’t affect me.’

But now he realized it was probably just a matter of degree.

Getting injured, feeling awful... those kinds of psychological or physical problems were nowhere near the threshold. Only his own death was enough to trigger the time-rewind.

At this thought, Zhang Shutong was at a loss for words.

’Sorry I haven’t died in all these years. Didn’t realize you had another use.’

That solved the second question:

Each time jump returned him to a critical juncture before the event.

’Does this mean the cause of my death can be traced back eight years?’

He could still feel a phantom pain in the back of his neck. The assailant had struck with precision and malice; they were clearly coming straight for him.

But the time gap was too great. Even if he wanted to do something, he was at a complete loss.

Today was December 5th. He had died on December 12th, eight years in the future. To be precise, he had returned to a point eight years and eight days in the past.

He couldn’t help but be sensitive to that date.

"It’s been all over the place for a while now. The question isn’t whether you’ve heard; it’s which version you believe..."

The conversation from just hours before still echoed in his ears, and a completely outlandish theory surfaced in his mind—

’Was I silenced?’

Zhang Shutong’s feelings were complicated.

He didn’t like jumping to conclusions, but if he took what Du Kang had said at face value, everything fell neatly into place.

Let’s assume the killer murdered the girl who went missing eight years ago;

then, eight years later, for some reason, they went after Lu Qinglian;

and then, the killer must have bought into some outlandish rumors—like that I had information about them. The rumors were spread so widely they started to sound plausible, and in the end, the killer targeted me.

That seemed to be the only way to explain why he’d returned to this point eight years in the past, before the original crime had even been committed.

He tore a sheet from a scratchpad, first writing his own name, then Lu Qinglian’s, and finally the name of the murdered girl. He paused to think. ’Her name was Gu Qiuyan, I think.’

He then added a few symbols, drawing lines and scribbles to help organize his thoughts. Only he could understand them; it looked like a suspect relationship map from a crime investigation.

He connected the three names, forming a triangle. Zhang Shutong stared at it for a long while, thinking what an incredibly unfair way to die he’d had.

Everyone knows a triangle is the most stable of structures—so stable, it seemed, that his death was a certainty. The three of them were like grasshoppers on a string, all tied to the same fate.

Still, at least the outcome was good. He had a second chance at life, and an opportunity to prevent two murders.

At this thought, his eyes subconsciously scanned the room for those two figures.

He couldn’t find Lu Qinglian. There was an empty seat in the classroom; she must have stepped out.

He did, however, spot the other one: a pretty girl named Gu Qiuyan, sitting by the window. She had medium-length hair, an oval face, and was bundled in a thick scarf.

Her school uniform was draped over the back of her chair. She wore a beige plaid sweater; it wasn’t a flashy style, but on her, it looked so refined that it seemed out of place.

It left Zhang Shutong wondering if she was cold or not.

’If she’s cold, she should be wearing her uniform jacket. If she’s not, why the scarf?’

Zhang Shutong couldn’t clearly remember what she looked like anymore, but he’d spotted her in an instant. Aside from her beauty, she was just too conspicuous.

While everyone else was studying, she was doing nothing, breathing onto the windowpane to fog it up. Her fingertip danced across the glass, tracing a jumble of lines. When she was done, Zhang Shutong still couldn’t make out what it was. A grimace?

It seemed like she was the only one in the whole classroom not focused on her work... well, besides him. Just the two of them.

Staring at the crude drawing, more memories began to surface.

Just as the girl’s beautiful face didn’t match the style of the grimace she’d drawn, Gu Qiuyan herself had never been on the same wavelength as her classmates.

Her name, Qiumian, suggested a soft, lingering autumn rain. But her personality was never gentle or sentimental. On the contrary, she was more like the freezing rain that fell at the cusp of winter and spring.

When she was in a good mood, things were fine. But if anyone provoked her, they would be lashed by that ice-cold rain until it stung.

Zhang Shutong knew the term "pampered heiress" felt a bit out of place on this remote little island, but in reality, that’s exactly what she was.

Gu Qiuyan’s father was a wealthy businessman, one of the first to make his fortune after the economic reforms.

Father Gu’s business empire was vast. If not known nationwide, it was at least famous throughout the province.

He had originally built his business in the neighboring provincial capital. Perhaps, having achieved success and fame, he grew bored with life. He set his sights on this small island, seeing its potential to become a 5A-rated scenic area, and was prepared to build it up from scratch.

Back in his school days, Zhang Shutong had heard talk of resorts and shopping plazas being built on the island; he figured they were all Father Gu’s handiwork.

You could even see traces of Father Gu’s influence on campus:

If you went to the administration building, you’d find that the most conspicuous thing in the long hallway was his giant framed photo as an "Outstanding Alumnus."

Never mind that her dad hadn’t attended a single day of school there. Since he had donated the school’s only all-weather track, an alumnus he became.

And if you went over to the library—a school their size had no business having a library, really—you’d find a line of gilded text next to the impressive main doors: "With Sincere Thanks for the Donation from Mr. Gu Jianhong."