Chapter 25: A Welcome Gift After Eight Years (Requesting Monthly Votes)

The first treat since the regression fell into the hands of Gu Qiumian.

The boy was stunned, and the proprietress was equally taken aback. By the time Zhang Shutong gathered his wits, she had already headed to the restroom without a backward glance. Looking over at the students at her table, no one seemed to have noticed what had just transpired. It was as if Gu Qiumian had merely stepped away from the table for a moment and incidentally resolved a pressing dilemma.

Zhang Shutong had to accept this favor. To put it jokingly—it seemed he had no choice but to accept it. Was he supposed to chase her into the restroom, pull open the stall door, and insist she didn't need to pay?

Of course, there were other ways. He was only short by twenty-some yuan; he could have taken that amount from the cash he had on hand and returned the rest. But a favor is either accepted or it isn't. Returning only twenty would seem pretentious, so it was better to bring the full amount tomorrow and pay her back.

Gu Qiumian’s trip to the restroom had been remarkably well-timed. Zhang Shutong had never been able to read her intentions before, but this time, even someone like him could understand. Consequently, he didn't stand around waiting for her to return. Instead, he left the fish restaurant, mounted his bicycle, and met up with his close friends.

A few meters down the road, he caught up with Ruoping and the others, who were waiting in line at a milk tea shop.

"Did it go well?" Qingyi pulled him aside and whispered.

"Did what go well?"

"Didn't you ask me to steer the others away so you could talk to Gu Qiumian?"

"Actually..." Zhang Shutong thought for a moment, "more or less. I didn't bring enough money earlier."

"How much were you short?" Qingyi reached for his pocket.

"It’s already paid. Gu Qiumian came over and covered it for me."

"Ah, why?"

"I don't know. Keep it a secret for a day, please."

Zhang Shutong planned to wait until he returned the money tomorrow before telling Ruoping. It would help promote Gu Qiumian's "human touch" without causing unnecessary trouble; he was a bit worried that Ruoping might drag him back right now.

Shortly after, the group parted ways in front of the commercial street. They couldn't be glued together at all times; Qingyi was going to a bookstore to borrow some books, and Dukang tagged along to pick out some videotapes. Ruoping had plans with friends at noon and needed to head back to school, so she went the same way as Zhang Shutong.

He got on his bike and hung the milk tea on the handlebars. The shop was called "Have a Cup." Unlike the milk tea shops in later shopping malls with their 700ml large paper cups and exquisite designs, the milk tea on the island came in a small, transparent cup, the lid heat-sealed with plastic film. It was likely just made from instant powder, but at four yuan, it was quite affordable.

On the way, Ruoping said, "I knew you had an upset stomach, so I specifically ordered a hot drink. Drink it while it's hot when you get back." Zhang Shutong was touched, but Ruoping added, "Don't just be touched, take action." He readily agreed, promising to cover her milk tea for the next week, which finally satisfied the young girl.

Only after he carried the milk tea into the classroom building did Zhang Shutong realize it was winter—if it wasn't hot, would they have served him something chilled? But it was too late now.

The lunch break was from 12:00 to 1:30 PM. It was just past one, and the classroom was relatively quiet. Some were studying, while others were slumped over their desks. After all, they were in their fourth year of junior high; they weren't like the lower-grade students who could raise the roof with their noise.

Every activity during his student days felt like a novelty to him. Zhang Shutong had always been energetic—otherwise, he wouldn't have had the stamina for his future vigilante life. He thought he should find a place to properly savor this cup of instant milk tea; only then would it be worth the "week of milk tea" price tag.

He chose the school rooftop. It was his favorite place during his student days, which was where Zhang Shutong differed from his close friends. They all felt that catching a cold wind on the roof would make them stupid. Dukang would rather go downstairs to nap; Qingyi’s "chuunibyou" brainwaves didn't sync with this place; and Ruoping even gave a vivid example, saying that every time she went up there, she felt like a Peking Man.

Only Zhang Shutong enjoyed the sensation. The school was built on the outskirts of the small island. Climbing to the roof and smelling the cool lake breeze, the scenery unfolded before him: gray-white buildings of varying heights intertwined, the lake surface a deep blue reflected in the sky, and mountains stretching into the distance. The people below were reduced to tiny, tiny black dots. But this was a small place, perfectly sized to hold this group of small people.

This time, he planned to ponder the murder case while drinking his milk tea.

He walked into the pitch-black stairwell, his feet crunching on dust. The door to the roof was locked, but Zhang Shutong knew where the key was. If he remembered correctly... he scuffed his foot. The third tile from the bottom was slightly loose. He pried at the gap in the cement, but found nothing.

Where was the key? Zhang Shutong was puzzled. He remembered making the copy himself. Once, a maintenance worker had forgotten to take the key, and he, being bold at the time, had rushed off-campus to get a duplicate made before returning the original to the homeroom teacher. He had intended it to be their secret base, but after a few windy sessions, the others grew tired of it, deeming it not private enough for a base and too cold in winter or hot in summer for a breakroom. Only he continued to go up there.

Had some student with a keen eye found it? Zhang Shutong didn't know whether to be happy or disappointed. He was happy that he wasn't the only one whose brain had been "blown stupid" by the wind, but disappointed because he quite enjoyed having a secret hideout. A hideout and a base sounded similar but were different; even Batman had a Batcave after joining the Justice League. It went to show that whether rich or poor, it was important for a man to have a private little nest.

Whenever he didn't want to be disturbed, he would come up here to sit for a while. He couldn't explain why; he had been that way since he was a child. But once this little nest was discovered, it was no longer a nest. Still, he would be graduating soon anyway. In that case, he would treat this as his last visit and pass the key on to a junior, ensuring a successor.

He tried pushing the door. The wind howled outside, exerting pressure against the door panel. He pushed it open just enough to see a crack, and a wave of cold hit him. Zhang Shutong was able to see the back of another "Peking Man"—not a junior, but a girl he recognized. Even without her green robe today, the high ponytail on the back of her head was distinctive, hanging quietly against her back as she sat perfectly straight.

Lu Qinglian turned her head at the sound and tilted it. "Looking for me?"

Her tone was as casual as if a guest had arrived at her home. After speaking, she didn't wait for his reaction and turned her face back.

"What are you doing here?" Zhang Shutong asked, surprised.

"Eating."

Only then did Zhang Shutong notice the old-fashioned aluminum lunch box in her hands. She picked up a small piece of rice with her chopsticks and moved it into her dainty mouth, eating with a calm, quiet demeanor.

"I'm eating. If you have something to say, make it quick."

She swallowed her food and emphasized this coolly. It was as if a hostess had opened the door only to find a salesperson, her expression chilling as she told them not to disturb her during mealtime. The difference with Lu Qinglian was that she was very polite; she wouldn't give anyone a cold shoulder. Her tone was flat, a gentle refusal at most, but that refusal was the real problem—what was with this attitude of "the guest taking over the host"?

Zhang Shutong felt she hadn't understood his meaning. He hadn't been asking what she was doing, but why she was here.

"You eat lunch on the roof?" How was this even sillier than coming to the roof to fish?

"I like to be alone when I eat."

"No wonder I’ve never seen you at the restaurants outside." Zhang Shutong thought thoughtfully, sitting down a distance away from Lu Qinglian, watching the scattered students walk by below.

It was fine when he was alone; no one looked up, and he wouldn't be discovered. Now that there were two of them, he wasn't sure if it was more conspicuous. But if it was, so be it. Although he liked being alone, Lu Qinglian coming here occasionally wasn't a big deal. She wasn't noisy, so he would just treat it as a guest visiting his base; it wouldn't stop him from drinking his milk tea.

Zhang Shutong didn't care, but Lu Qinglian seemed to care. She swallowed another mouthful of rice and frowned. "Do you have business here?"

"No, just daydreaming."

"If you have something to say, say it quickly. Don't play games." She set down her chopsticks.

"...Why do you assume I have business with you?"

"I'm the only one who comes here, so I don't like people disturbing my meal."

"Wait," Zhang Shutong stopped reaching for his straw, "what do you mean by 'only you come here'?"

Hadn't it been enough that she stole his fishing rod yesterday? Now she wanted to occupy his little nest too?

Zhang Shutong felt a headache coming on. "Lu Qinglian, haven't you noticed that this place is usually locked?"

"Zhang Shutong, haven't you noticed that the door wasn't locked today?"

The woman was actually mimicking him, even copying his tone. She seemed to think he wasn't very bright, and after she finished, she added, "Because I’m the one who opened it."

I know you opened it, the problem is that I made the key.

Before he could speak, Lu Qinglian felt that wasn't enough and revealed a piece of evidence that sealed the deal: "Two years ago, in my second year, I discovered where the key was hidden."

It felt like a divorce settlement dispute—the man says he paid the down payment for the car, and the woman says she paid the later installments... Zhang Shutong’s mouth twitched. He thought to himself that it must have been his second year; if it had been any other time, it would be ghosts at work, because that was when he had the key made. Coming here, he finally understood where Lu Qinglian’s standoffish attitude came from.

But what surprised him more was another matter—his self-proclaimed secret little nest had been thoroughly infiltrated since the moment he discovered it? And they had both gone through this time without ever noticing each other?

"You eat lunch here every day?"

"Just about."

No wonder. Zhang Shutong wasn't like her; he didn't usually spend time alone, always eating with his close friends, so he hadn't come to the roof.

"Actually, I was the one who made the key..."

"No, I clearly found it." Lu Qinglian shook her head gently. This girl wasn't just naturally dazed; she was also stubborn.

"I really did make it."

"Evidence?"

"Why do you think it was hidden under the third tile?"

"I'm a temple keeper."

"A temple keeper can calculate where a key is hidden?" Zhang Shutong was shocked.

"You can interpret it that way," Lu Qinglian said casually.

Zhang Shutong wanted to say, *I was being sarcastic, didn't you hear?* Also, why was that familiar phrase back? But he remembered the subtle curve of her lips when he dropped her off at the mountain last night and suddenly realized something.

First, when she said "You can interpret it that way," it definitely meant the previous sentence was a lie. Second, this girl was never naturally dazed; she was *acting* dazed. If you actually believed her, you were the one being played.

"Don't pretend," Zhang Shutong said, speechless. "I was fooled by you once yesterday."

"You're a bit smarter than I thought, Zhang Shutong." Sure enough, once he called her out, she returned to that flat, composed state. She seemed to have matured, dropping the "classmate" suffix. "But to correct you, it wasn't just yesterday."

Zhang Shutong couldn't be bothered to ask which other days; it was just another trap. No matter what he guessed, the answer would just be "You can interpret it that way for now." Zhang Shutong finally understood the subtext: "You aren't very smart right now, please try harder."

He suddenly found Lu Qinglian more interesting than he had imagined. "You knew I came here often?"

"Before today, I didn't think there was anyone else here."

She no longer waited until she swallowed her food to speak, but continued while eating small mouthfuls of rice. "At first, I thought you had an urgent matter with me, but when you asked 'what do you mean by only you come here,' I realized I had guessed wrong."

Zhang Shutong thought she was a bit narcissistic. Yesterday she had asked if he liked her, and today she subconsciously assumed he had urgent business with her.

"So everything after that was just to mess with me?"

"Just about." She took another bite of rice.

Now Zhang Shutong was confused. "Since you realized that, why did you pretend to..."

"Because I don't like people disturbing my meal, and that was a way to get you to leave," she said carelessly, like talking to a child.

Zhang Shutong laughed. "Then this morning, was that also because you didn't want anyone to disturb your morning reading?"

"That's the only one that wasn't."

To his surprise, Lu Qinglian suddenly frowned, and the ball of rice under her chopsticks was instantly split in two. Poor rice.

By the way, why was this girl only eating rice? Since he arrived, he had watched her eat, eat, and eat more rice. He looked into the old lunch box and realized what was going on. The surface of the aluminum box was covered in dents and scratches, and inside, there was basically only rice, with a small pile of pickled vegetables squeezed into the corner. It wasn't the kind of preserved mustard sold in the market; it looked like something pickled at home—a strange, dark green, and somewhat wilted. Needless to say, she must have brought it down from the mountain.

Then, Zhang Shutong realized why she could always use her chopsticks to pick up a small clump of rice. At first, he thought it was some special technique, but now he realized it was just because the weather was too cold. The rice had long since gone cold, the steam had dissipated, and it was stuck together in chunks in the box.

"You eat this every day for lunch?" Zhang Shutong was genuinely surprised.

Lu Qinglian seemed to catch his meaning. "Only today is it this bad."

"That's good. If I had known, I would have called you..."

"Usually there's a boiled egg." She picked up another clump of rice.

Zhang Shutong confirmed for a long while that she was being earnest, not pretending.

"Just a plain boiled egg?"

"Sometimes it's a duck egg."

"That's not enough nutrition."

"I know, so I order milk every semester."

Zhang Shutong didn't know if the "milk" she referred to was the little square cartons the school distributed every day—150ml miniature packs of sweetened water with less than 1.8% protein content. He didn't know what to say, so he simply handed her his milk tea. Although it wasn't very nutritious, it would at least provide some calories. But feeling that Lu Qinglian might not accept it, he added, "Ruoping really wanted to thank you for last night. Consider this a treat from her."

"No need." Lu Qinglian shook her head. "I don't feel like I'm living that poorly."

"I'm not saying you're pitiful..."

Zhang Shutong thought about it, but how could he explain? Was it just friendship? They weren't friends. Was it just gratitude? She didn't want gratitude. Was it just pity? But she didn't feel she was living poorly.

"I mean... just like why you always come to the roof to eat, are you afraid of being seen?"

He didn't know why he asked that, nor could he say he was testing her pride. It was like two Peking Men communicating—they didn't necessarily know what they were saying, relying entirely on gestures. Fortunately, Lu Qinglian understood. Her voice was as still as water. "No reason, I just like it."

"Are you used to it?"

"Maybe."

"And the daily boiled egg? Do you like that too?"

"That doesn't count."

"You could switch to something else."

"But it's convenient."

"It has a chicken-poop smell."

"I know how to deal with it."

"That's right, I know how too." Zhang Shutong placed the milk tea beside her. He stood up and walked to the rooftop door. "So, I'm not pitying you. Drink it or don't, it's just..."

He had said all that, yet still hadn't found the right description, so he simply played it mysterious. "A greeting gift."

Unfortunately, Lu Qinglian didn't ask what he meant. Otherwise, no matter what she said, he could reply, "You can interpret it that way for now," giving her a taste of her own medicine. The girl just frowned upon hearing this, as if pondering a question. Or perhaps she suddenly stopped looking like a young girl. The woman he had seen in the black-and-white funeral portrait eight years later seemed to appear before him—a familiar sight.

But this time, Zhang Shutong understood her intent. She was a silly girl who couldn't even tell an Oreo apart, so he kindly offered some popular science: "Don't eat the black things; those are milk tea pearls. You need to spit them out when you drink it."

She paused at his words. The sense of familiarity vanished, and the girl’s gaze suddenly became terrifying. Although she remained expressionless, she looked very much like she had that morning.

"...Don't take me for a fool."