Chapter 50: What Did Zhang Shutong See?

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“What would you like to drink?” Zhang Shutong asked Gu Qiumian.

“Do they actually have Yuan Yang milk tea?” She turned her head from the back of the line and saw the price list inside the shop, as if it was her first time here.

“Yes, but I advise you not to have high expectations.” Zhang Shutong knew that Yuan Yang milk tea was a blend of milk tea and coffee, a style popularized by Hong Kong-style cafes. In more upscale places, they might add some condensed milk, but that was impossible in a small shop like this.

The so-called “Yuan Yang” was probably just flavored milk tea powder mixed with hot water. Upon hearing this, Gu Qiumian lost interest and said to order whatever, just not strawberry flavor—she couldn’t drink that.

Zhang Shutong nodded and told her to stroll around the street but not to go too far. He would queue alone—there were some matters to inquire about that weren’t suitable for her to overhear.

There were six people ahead of him, so he estimated the wait would be several minutes. He recalled the information Ruoping had provided.

—This “Lai Yi Bei” milk tea shop wasn’t a couple’s business, but oddly enough, the husband and wife took turns helping out here.

According to Ruoping, it used to be the woman running things, but about a week ago, the husband took over. They had come to the Lake Fish Restaurant for a meal, and the milk tea was made by that man then.

Today, the woman was back again.

Zhang Shutong then made three inferences:

First, the couple’s alternating shifts were definitely not the norm. Either the shop could support the entire family with both working there, or one had another job. So that “week-long” rotation probably indicated something had happened at home.

Second, judging by the woman’s age—around her forties, about the same as Gu Qiumian’s housekeeper—her child was likely the same age as Gu Qiumian and in middle school, a time of heavy expenses.

He also observed the woman’s attire: two grimy arm sleeves, a faded apron, and a keypad phone on the counter, all consistent with modest economic conditions.

As for his third thought, it was more of a doubt than a deduction.

In his view, the “culprit” family’s shop must be struggling to the point of desperation to take such risks, yet this milk tea shop seemed to be doing well—it was one of the few places on the street with a queue.

Whether guess or doubt, the truth would soon reveal itself; patience was key.

Besides waiting for the milk tea, he was also awaiting a reply from Dukang.

Not long ago, Dukang messaged that he had spotted the outline of the Gu family villa from afar and should be arriving now.

Sure enough, a moment later, a notification popped up on Zhang Shutong’s phone: Dukang reported safely reaching the “castle” and sent a photo.

The scene in the photo was much like what he had seen in the morning—a stretch of wasteland, but with less fog.

Zhang Shutong glanced at the time: just past eleven, prime time for preparing lunch.

“All right,” he quickly made further arrangements, “...but you must be careful. If something feels off, ride away immediately.”

Dukang replied with an “OK” emoji, indicating he would await good news.

There were still five people ahead in line.

His chat with Dukang had taken nearly three minutes, and since the milk tea here was made from instant powder—just mixed with hot water—even with a generous estimate, one cup per minute was enough.

Observing the woman’s process, Zhang Shutong revised his earlier assumptions—

The queue wasn’t due to booming business;

It was because the woman wasn’t very skilled at making drinks. Even with the simplest milk tea powder, she struggled to find the right flavor and often had to search through the containers.

When it was finally his turn, Zhang Shutong ordered the two most complicated drinks: full pudding, pearls, and Oreo. While she made them, he struck up a conversation.

He greeted her warmly, “Auntie, long time no see.”

The woman smiled brightly upon hearing this. “What a coincidence! It’s actually my first day back. Before, it was my partner here.”

She opened a jar and complained, “You see? He only helped a little but messed up my stuff so badly, I can’t find anything.”

After chatting some more, Zhang Shutong learned she had sprained her ankle a few days ago and couldn’t stand for long, so her husband had temporarily taken over.

“Then uncle finally gets a few days off,” Zhang Shutong teased.

“No way. I just came back today, and he’s already gone back to work,” she said.

“Working?”

“Not really a proper job,” the woman pouted, “You know, over at that mall.”

That mall was naturally the Gu family’s.

Zhang Shutong caught the keyword.

“Oh? I just came back from there.”

“All the students like to hang out there now. Where it’s lively, they go.”

“Not really—I made a special detour just to buy milk tea,” Zhang Shutong smiled despite a shiver, “Your milk tea is definitely better. You can’t get this at the mall.”

He only said good things, and the woman agreed: “Exactly! What’s so great about the mall? I tell you, the stuff there is exactly the same as on our street—the same clothes, same suppliers, but once it hits the shelves, the price goes up by dozens of yuan. Dishonest business.”

Talking about the mall, her tone darkened.

Zhang Shutong knew an opportunity had arrived and casually asked if she had heard about last night’s incident—anyway, it wouldn’t be long before word spread.

The woman sighed, her tone complicated. “It spread fast, but you probably don’t know. Those people were from our commercial street and got arrested by the police. Everyone dislikes Boss Gu’s family, but this was a bit too much.”

Her expression seemed genuine.

Zhang Shutong observed carefully and concluded she was part of the “second camp.”

Like the owner of the Lake Fish Restaurant—disliking them but not to the point of outright conflict.

Honestly, at this point, the milk tea shop was basically ruled out. It was unlikely the culprit wouldn’t seek revenge and instead go work at the mall for Gu’s father. To extremists, that would be tantamount to surrender.

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But since Zhang Shutong had finally found a target fitting the criteria, he made one last confirmation for safety:

“Why does uncle still work at the mall?”

“I don’t know what he’s thinking. I’ve warned him many times. He could have gone anywhere to earn a living, but he insists on going there, enduring people’s moods every day. But he just won’t listen.”

The woman was adding pearls and snapped the metal spoon down on the counter with a crisp clang.

“Doesn’t uncle get annoyed with the Gu family?” Zhang Shutong asked, feigning surprise.

“Of course he does! He’s cussed them up to the heavens, especially after a few drinks. He drags my son into it too. I tell him not to learn from your grandfather, but he won’t listen.”

The woman put her hands on her hips, muttering curses:

“Damn fool. If I can’t control him, then so be it.”

It seemed every middle-aged woman habitually scolded her children, and this woman was no exception.

Yet despite her words, she didn’t seem to care much. It was as if cursing the Gu family was a right granted by heaven—if she didn’t, it would feel wrong. Not lashing out was considered magnanimity.

This reminded Zhang Shutong of Li Yipeng. Growing up in such an environment, it was hard to say he wouldn’t be affected.

Now only one question remained: Was the woman’s husband the mastermind behind the six-player Mahjong game?

From every angle, it seemed a bit forced.

Zhang Shutong felt pessimistic.

Unless the man’s “work” at the mall was a cover, and he actually went elsewhere.

But that still didn’t explain why he went to work at the mall; it was hard to presume sinister motives based solely on that.

Or perhaps, the original timeline’s culprit had canceled the weekend operation because the arson occurred prematurely, fearing capture.

But as he had told Qingyi before, their capabilities were limited. Trying to guess the culprit’s situation was futile—there were too many possibilities.

They might have canceled because of a warning, or a stomach upset that morning, or simply no intention to strike today...

So speculating on “possibilities” was meaningless.

Instead, use reverse thinking—

No matter how many possibilities there were, Zhang Shutong’s job was to eliminate them all but one:

The culprit would definitely act today, Saturday, December 8.

Maybe they aimed at the target before shooting the arrow, but without that target, no investigation could proceed.

Otherwise, they could only tread water.

He had a rough idea now. Slightly headache-ridden, he took out his phone to continue coordinating with Ruoping about the shop.

Meanwhile, the milk tea was almost ready—fully loaded with pudding and pearls in a large cup, only the Oreo crumbs were left to add.

Then the woman called out behind him:

“Stop playing on the computer and get the Oreo out for me—”

Her husband had left, so the only person she could be speaking to was the aforementioned “son.”

She called several times before the storeroom behind her stirred.

A cloth curtain hung over the entrance. A hand extended from behind, passing a large container of Oreo crumbs to his mother.

Zhang Shutong’s gaze shifted from the hand to the large Oreo container, thoughtful.

So that was it...

All the clues suddenly fit together.

Maybe he really did have a connection with Oreo.

“Where exactly does uncle work in the mall?” he asked suddenly. “Maybe I’ll run into him.”

“Oh, he’s inside the supermarket, at the deli counter.”

While speaking, the woman finished the last step, sealed the milk tea, and smiled:

“Next time if you want pig head meat or pig ears, just go find him there. Tell him you’re from Lai Yi Bei and ask him to cut you extra.”

“Thanks, Auntie,” Zhang Shutong smiled back.

Next, only one thing remained to confirm.

The operation officially entered its third stage—

...

“How’s things on Shutong’s side?” Feng Ruoping looked at Qingyi, who stared intently at his phone. A new message had just arrived a second ago.

The two had just left the mall, discussing where to go next. Qingyi’s bike was gone, and hers was too small—a typical ladies’ bike that was tough to ride tandem—so they wandered aimlessly nearby.

After all, Shutong had ordered them to “stand by for now.”

She felt a bit powerless. “Stand by for now” probably meant they couldn’t go anywhere.

The girl felt mentally weary; she had come excited to shop but was now just wandering the streets.

Before her was a bleak scene: crowds flowing by, and trying to find the “culprit” in this sea of faces seemed impossible, no matter how brilliant Shutong was.

She thought it would have been better to follow her original plan and wait at the police station.

They couldn’t be more capable than the police, right?

Just as this thought crossed her mind, things seemed to take a new turn.

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Suddenly, Qingyi turned off his phone.

“We have to go back.”

“Don’t tell me someone forgot something again...” Feng Ruoping said wearily.

Or was it related to his earlier message about “operation entering the second stage”? Boys always so secretive and childish.

“No, we’re going to the supermarket,” the boy frowned. “There’s a deli counter—do you remember?”

“Deli counter... should be on the north side,” Feng Ruoping was curious. “Why a deli counter again? Didn’t he say before they found a suspicious shop on the commercial street? How’s that investigation going?”

“We have a lead,” Qingyi said briefly. “Let’s go first. We need to hurry...”

“He’s so inconsiderate, going on dates and leaving us to run around...” She didn’t finish her sentence before Qingyi was already running off. She stomped in annoyance and hurried to catch up. “Wait for me! I’m not wearing sneakers today!”

...

“Is your aunt nearsighted?” Zhang Shutong asked casually as he handed a large deluxe milk tea to Gu Qiumian.

“I think so?” Gu Qiumian wasn’t sure. “She has glasses but doesn’t wear them often. I don’t know how serious it is.”

Zhang Shutong nodded.

That made sense.

He then sent a new message to Dukang.

“There might be something later; please be ready.” They took the milk tea and headed to the bikes. Zhang Shutong patted the rear seat. “Now I’ll take you somewhere.”

...

“Left already?” Meng Qingyi was out of breath.

“Just left. Went to the bathroom?”

The deli counter behind was empty except for pig liver hanging on hooks.

Next to it was a scallion pancake stall, where a plump woman in a white apron was kneading dough. She wiped flour from her face with her pinky and shouted without looking up:

“No, she said there was an emergency at home and left on her first day. You two might want to look around and come back later. The manager will send someone else soon.”

Meng Qingyi recalled what Shutong had told him and asked:

“Did anything unusual happen when he came today?”

The woman laughed:

“You kids playing detective, just like my youngest son. Always carrying that detective tiger team book.”

She waved them off, “Go, go, go. I’m busy. If you want to play, go somewhere else.”

“It’s the Adventure Tiger...”

“Stop arguing,” Ruoping pushed Qingyi away, smiled at the woman, and ordered five yuan’s worth of scallion pancakes. While the woman busied herself, they chatted about her youngest son—how old he was, what grade he should be in...

The woman said third grade, and Qingyi’s face suddenly darkened.

Once the woman got talking, she pushed Qingyi forward, signaling for them to ask quickly.

The woman laughed and cried at once. “Girl, you don’t have to try so hard. I really don’t know what you mean by unusual.”

She thought for a moment and added:

“Nothing really different. Just chatting about family while working, talking about how the boss’s house burned down yesterday and asking if we knew.”

“And then?”

“Who could know such a big thing? I thought he was lying, but the manager suddenly called us to a meeting this morning, telling us not to spread rumors about what we heard. The boss sent someone back today...”

“In the morning?”

“Around ten o’clock.”

“Before we came then?” Ruoping interrupted.

“That fits perfectly,” Qingyi realized. “No wonder he came to work today—it was for that news.”

“What do you mean?”

“Not here to talk. Let’s walk and talk.”

It was lunchtime. They barely exchanged a few words before other customers arrived, but the boy seemed to have gotten the information he wanted and called Ruoping to follow him.

“We can basically confirm who it is,” Qingyi said, typing as they walked, then sighed, “A blind cat catching a dead rat.”

“You’re the blind cat.”

“I’m not talking about us, I mean that guy. In some ways, he’s pretty lucky. Now we don’t have to worry about who it is.”

“Trying to keep us in suspense?”

“Shutong just told me he and Gu Qiumian came here to buy pig liver.”

“And then?”

“Then like we heard just now,” Qingyi shrugged, “They left, and the pig liver seller left too.”

There will be another update at midnight; no matter how late, it counts as an extra for the 4th.

Mainly because writing the main plot is mentally taxing, so please support with votes!