Chapter 60: "Tattoo"

Zhang Shutong finally realized where the problem lay—

Why had this island barely developed at all?

It wasn't just that the commercial street remained; as he walked all the way here, the island's overall layout hadn't changed much at all. Ferries without cabins, only buses running along the road, desolate suburbs, checkerboard-like urban areas... According to the commercial blueprint originally planned by Gu Qiumian's father, wasn't this place supposed to be turned into a tourist scenic area?

Then where was the shopping plaza? Where was the resort? And where was the five-star hotel?

Why hadn't Gu Jianhong continued developing the island?

Zhang Shutong hurriedly turned around, but Ruoping and Dukang had already gone inside.

The two of them were ordering food in the main dining hall. This place was identical to how it was eight years ago, completely unrenovated. The white walls were stained with a thick layer of cooking oil smoke, the wooden tables and chairs had developed a glossy patina from years of use, and the tables were covered with a floral cloth pressed beneath a layer of tempered glass, even the glass being smeared with indelible greasy stains. The proprietress was still that same plump woman, smiling as she chatted with Ruoping.

She said, "Oh girl, it's been so long since you've been back. A girl changes eighteen times by adulthood, and you just keep getting prettier." Ruoping replied with a smile, "Auntie is getting younger and younger too. How do you seem even more spirited than before?" The proprietress laughed, "My, your mouth is still as sweet as ever. Auntie will add an extra dish for you later..."

Zhang Shutong originally wanted to walk straight over and ask about the commercial street, but he couldn't get a word in edgewise, so he had no choice but to stand aside and wait for a moment.

He remembered when they dined at this restaurant back then, the four of them had first claimed a table, and then Dukang ran over to the front desk to grab a menu. The four of them agreed that each person would order a dish they loved best: Ruoping chose candied sweet potatoes, Dukang chose stir-fried shrimp, Qingyi chose shredded eel, and when it came to his turn—always indifferent to food—he casually said to just make it shredded potatoes with hot and sour sauce, only to be called petty by Ruoping, prompting him to change it to braised pork ribs, a dish all four of them loved.

Yet nowadays, going Dutch wasn't even a trend anymore. Ruoping simply stood in front of the menu with her arms crossed, casually calling out a few dishes. Only then did Zhang Shutong notice she was wearing high heels today, exuding the strong aura of a career woman.

Dukang leaned close to her to offer advice, whispering, "Not this one, listen to me, pick a different one..." Only to receive a sidelong glance from her in response. She retorted, "Are you treating or am I? Stop nagging, go find a table and sit by yourself."

Their relationship must be very close, or they wouldn't speak to each other so casually. Zhang Shutong originally wanted to use this opportunity to catch up with Dukang, but who would have thought that Dukang would just glance at him, curl his lip, and head toward the restroom.

Zhang Shutong knew there was even less room for him to chime in over by Ruoping. Just as he thought about finding a table to sit at first, the proprietress recognized him as well and said with a smile, "Young man, Auntie still remembers you. So many years without seeing you and you've gotten more handsome too. Do you still remember that one time you didn't bring enough money to pay the bill, couldn't get through to your friends on the phone, and then someone..."

Of course Zhang Shutong remembered. The proprietress had an incredible memory; his one and only moment of embarrassment had been firmly etched in her mind—though being short by twenty yuan really wasn't worth making a fuss over.

Yet on second thought, perhaps it wasn't he who had left a deep impression on her, but rather Gu Qiumian's declaration that she would treat them. That young heiress had reached out a hand from behind him, and though it was just a simple meal of only four dishes, a stack of red banknotes had fluttered down gracefully and generously from her fingertips, startling the local thugs nearby and stunning the proprietress. He was merely the one who happened to be remembered along the way.

Zhang Shutong had no choice but to nod and greet her in return.

When he pulled out a chair and sat down, he realized that he had unconsciously chosen the exact same spot—the day after the poachers' incident, when they came here for a "victory banquet," they had sat right here too.

Of course, such trivial matters were only remembered by him. Soon after, Ruoping pulled out a stool and sat opposite him, and Dukang returned from the restroom. The two of them sat on one side while Zhang Shutong sat alone on the other, making the distance in their relationships clear at a glance.

Dukang turned his head again to shout for the proprietress to bring over some beer, only asking Ruoping after he finished shouting, "Can you even drink today?" Ruoping replied, "Who are you looking down on? Should we switch to hard liquor instead, and not let anyone go back until they're passed out?"

Dukang shrank his neck back and said, "Better not, I can't outdrink you." This time, the "hard liquor" they spoke of was truly alcohol; everyone was no longer fifteen or sixteen-year-old giggling youths where one clamored for hard liquor while another acted like a martial arts heroine, slamming the table to declare she would handle everything, only to turn around and order four cartons of Nutriboost milk instead.

Zhang Shutong poured a cup of plain water and drank it in silence. He had just instinctively glanced toward the main hall; several square tables were neatly arranged there, but this time they weren't pushed together. Just as there was no Nutriboost here, nor was there that girl who drank yogurt.

He finally waited for the opportunity to gather information. Zhang Shutong stood up to pour them each a cup of water, and with a feigned look of nostalgia, he surveyed his surroundings and asked why this commercial street was still here.

It was already dark outside, and wisps of steam curled upward from the white porcelain cup. Zhang Shutong watched their expressions through the vapor, hoping only that the upcoming conversation would go smoothly.

The two of them exchanged a glance and fell silent. In the end, it was Ruoping who broke the silence first, fixing her gaze on the tablecloth:

"What else could it be? The big boss didn't want to invest anymore, obviously."

"What was the reason?" Zhang Shutong pursued.

Ruoping, however, offered no further answer. At that moment, Dukang furrowed his brow and looked at him:

"What on earth did you come here for today?"

Zhang Shutong didn't even know himself.

He figured he must have come to the island to attend Lu Qinglian's funeral, yet he couldn't recall who the person that notified him was. He had once thought it was Ruoping because her incoming call was on his phone, but later, when Zhang Shutong flipped through his logs, he discovered that the call had actually been placed by himself to her.

Why on earth had he returned to the island?

And who had notified him of Lu Qinglian's death?

These two questions had no clue whatsoever, and there wasn't even anyone he could ask. It was obvious that the two people sitting opposite him were equally in the dark.

Dukang sneered:

"What's the point of playing dumb now..."

Before he could finish, Ruoping slapped him lightly, and he clamped his mouth shut.

Zhang Shutong had no choice but to lower his head and drink his water. How had he managed to turn into this universally disliked person? Soon, the dishes were served onto the table—a plate of stir-fried shrimp. At this point, Ruoping picked up her chopsticks and nudged Dukang with her elbow:

"Your favorite. Stop daydreaming."

Dukang muttered under his breath:

"I told you the stir-fried shrimp at this place can't compare to the way it used to be; it has regressed severely. Besides, if I wanted to eat it, couldn't I just cook it myself? Why waste money like this..."

Zhang Shutong finally realized where the problem lay—

Zhang Shutong finally realized where the problem lay—

"Am I willing or not?" Ruoping slammed her chopsticks down.

"Fine, fine, fine, you're willing, you're willing. You're the boss, who dares disobey you..."

He picked up a shrimp and chewed it with utter insipidity:

"As expected, it's not like before. Have a taste."

"Really? I don't see how it's any different. Is it really that mystical?" Ruoping refused to believe it and took a bite, but after a moment she too let out a sigh, "Consider it money down the drain. Next time, absolutely..."

She swallowed her words back down here, and Zhang Shutong understood what she meant—there wouldn't be a next time.

He also picked up a piece, but failed to taste any difference. Of course, it was also possible his taste buds had simply grown dull. The three of them silently ate the shrimp. The restaurant wasn't busy today, with only a scattering of tables occupied, and soon the second dish was served: candied sweet potatoes.

Ruoping took one bite and didn't touch her chopsticks again.

"I knew I should have listened to you," she said to Dukang.

"Told you so. It's not like I haven't been here over the years; I know the ins and outs of what's delicious and what's terrible."

The beer had also been brought over long ago, and the proprietress had very thoughtfully helped them open three bottles, but they had simply been left at the corner of the table, untouched by anyone.

Complaining that the food tasted terrible, Ruoping simply poured herself a glass of beer and poured one for Dukang as well. Seeing this, Zhang Shutong poured a small amount for himself. The three of them held their wine glasses, the bottoms barely lifting a centimeter off the tabletop before all lowering them back down in unison.

Today was hardly an occasion suited for cheering.

Only for drowning one's sorrows in drink.

Having not seen their classmates for many years, there was naturally no shortage of topics to chat about. Soon, Ruoping's cheeks flushed red, and she took the lead in bringing up Qingyi with Dukang, calling that unconscionable wretch out—whenever you asked him, it was always overtime; why didn't he just work himself to death? Dukang chuckled and said men were just like that, naturally prioritizing work... But mentioning this made him fall silent as well. That guy who constantly had men on his lips was conspicuously absent today. Although his understanding of men was thoroughly skewed, when the people present brought up those two words, no one seemed more persuasive than him.

Dukang went on to say that Qingyi wasn't a chuunibyou anymore either; he was now a white-collar worker sitting in an office building, an elite STEM nerd. The last time he came back to visit his grandmother, Dukang had even invited him out fishing, but Qingyi had told him he truly had no time and had to catch a flight that evening, arriving and leaving on the very same day.

They began discussing other people in their class, though they deliberately omitted Lu Qinglian's name. Some names sounded familiar to Zhang Shutong, while others he couldn't remember at all. Suddenly, Dukang asked, "Do you remember Liyipeng? That bastard just got out a short while ago."

Ruoping asked, "What happened?"

He said, "He hooked up with a college student girlfriend and ended up getting her pregnant. Her parents smashed his family's shop to pieces, and then he got into a brawl with his prospective parents-in-law. My jaw hit the floor when I found out..."

Ruoping had just raised her cup to her lips, and upon hearing this, she laughed so hard she could barely hold the cup steady, smudging the lipstick across her lips in a crooked streak.

Dukang asked her next, "How have you been all these years? Seeing anyone yet? Bring your boyfriend over sometime for everyone to take a look and vet him for you."

Ruoping kicked him, saying, "Get lost, who needs your damn vetting."

Dukang asked with a cheeky smile whether she was seeing anyone or just too embarrassed to admit it...

The atmosphere at the dining table gradually warmed up. Just as Ruoping was about to smilingly scold him, a voice suddenly came from across the table, unprovoked:

"What about Gu Qiumian?"

Zhang Shutong finally asked.

Ever since the two of them started chatting about their classmates, he had been paying attention to this issue. Logically speaking, even people whose names he couldn't remember had come up, so there was no reason for Gu Qiumian's name to be missing. That young heiress had never lacked for topics of discussion, and besides, her conflicts with Ruoping had long since been resolved; it didn't make sense to avoid mentioning her altogether.

Who would have thought that this question would cause both of them to put down their wine glasses simultaneously, the smiles on their faces fading bit by bit.

"What on earth are you trying to say?" Ruoping asked after a brief silence.

Zhang Shutong forced a smile and said, "Nothing much, just suddenly thought of her. How is she doing now?"

Though he said this outwardly, inwardly he was starting to mutter doubts to himself. Could it be that the two of them had fallen out again and she had become some kind of taboo subject?

Surely not...

Yet Ruoping's brows knitted together bit by bit:

"Zhang Shutong, are you losing your mind now that you've had a bit to drink?"

He instinctively looked at Dukang, whose brows were also furrowed. Zhang Shutong had no choice but to apologize, saying, "I've run into some things lately, and once I touch alcohol I start forgetting things. Don't mind me rambling incoherently—I was just curious what happened to her."

"I'm starting to can't tell whether you're being sarcastic or if your brain is genuinely broken," Ruoping's brows furrowed even deeper. "What do you mean 'what happened'?"

"Huh?"

"We weren't talking about her earlier precisely to spare your feelings. If you don't even care yourself, then I have nothing more to say." She slammed her wine glass down with a loud *bang*. "Right, I actually wanted to ask you: if you cared about her this much, why haven't you visited her grave even once in these past eight years?"

Her grave?

Eight years?

"She's dead?" he asked instinctively, no longer caring about losing his composure, speaking incoherently, "I... I really can't remember now, my head is a total mess, I'm not acting crazy on purpose... When on earth did this happen?"

Ruoping stared fixedly at his face:

"Right around the fourth day of the Lunar New Year that year. What on earth is wrong with you?"

Zhang Shutong was completely dumbfounded.

Not just because of Gu Qiumian's death.

But if Gu Qiumian had died on the fourth day of the Lunar New Year, then who on earth was the person he had seen in the graduation photo?

Zhang Shutong hurriedly fished the photograph out of his pocket, wanting to say, *Look, isn't this girl wearing the red scarf Gu Qiumian? It couldn't possibly be some kind of supernatural event, right?*

He had noticed that red scarf when looking at the graduation photo in the car earlier. The girl in the photo had tucked her chin into the scarf, revealing only the lower half of her face. Because he subconsciously assumed Gu Qiumian had been saved, he hadn't looked closer; most of his time had been spent trying to figure out his own situation. But now, as he pulled out the yellowed, blurry old photograph once more, he discovered that the face wearing the red scarf in the third row...

Wasn't Gu Qiumian at all!

It was an entirely unfamiliar female student!

Wait, what the actual hell... Zhang Shutong's brain completely crashed, or rather, in an instant he thought of countless possibilities, various distracting thoughts even slowing down the operation of his mind. Could it be that Gu Qiumian had completely vanished from this timeline? Replaced by someone else? A chill ran down his spine, yet he remembered that Ruoping had clearly mentioned Gu Qiumian's name just moments ago. Then why on earth was this happening?

He clutched the photograph and asked urgently:

"Then who is she?"

"A transfer student, duh." Ruoping's expression turned even stranger. "Why are you sounding almost like you have some kind of amnesia?"

"A transfer student?"

"She transferred over shortly after Gu Qiumian passed away."

Zhang Shutong stared at the photograph once again, only to belatedly realize a problem: the graduation photo had been taken in the summer, yet why would any normal person wear a wool scarf in the middle of summer? Looking closely, he finally recognized that it wasn't a scarf at all, but a gauze shawl.

"Then... then when exactly did she pass away?"

"That very day. How could you even forget that?"

"Which day is 'that day'?"

"December 9th, in the early hours of Sunday," Dukang chimed in abruptly. "The exact day we caught Zhou Ziheng and his son."

Zhang Shutong stood up abruptly, knocking over the cup beside his hand. Scalding hot water splashed onto his arm, and his muscle reflex made his arm twitch, but he instantly seemed to lose all sensation of pain, raising his voice instead:

"Sunday morning, are you sure it was Sunday morning?"

A brief wave of dizziness washed over him. The lights in the dining hall weren't bright, yet at this moment they swayed sickeningly. He confirmed once more that he hadn't heard wrong—yes, it was Sunday morning, not Monday morning—

Yet this meant Gu Qiumian's death date had occurred in the dead of night between December 8th and 9th, precisely at the moment the time loop was triggered. But this made no sense at all... Hadn't she gone home?

Her family's two bodyguards had come to pick her up. After taking a shower in her room, she had called him, saying they had agreed she would treat them to dinner on Sunday. So how could she have been murdered in the middle of the night?

Zhang Shutong suddenly felt a surge of nausea roil in his stomach. He threw himself back onto his stool, the resulting clatter making the surrounding people cast sidelong glances.

He forced two words out from between his clenched teeth, because if that was the case, he would never be able to forgive himself:

"The... nanny?"

Ruoping shook her head.

"Then who on earth was it?"

"Nobody knows," she said softly after a long silence.

Those four words drained every last ounce of strength from Zhang Shutong. He reached into his pocket, wanting to find that pack of cigarettes and light one... But the burning pain radiating from his arm reminded him that there were other matters to deal with first. Zhang Shutong numbly took off his trench coat. Ruoping handed him a napkin from the side. He knew he ought to say thank you, but words failed him entirely.

Beneath the trench coat was a navy blue sweater, and beneath the sweater was a thermal undershirt. He rolled up the sleeves of the sweater, then rolled up the sleeves of the undershirt, instinctively pressing the napkin against his arm, but his movements suddenly froze.

His own arm didn't belong to him either... No, to put it more accurately, his arm was different from before, and vastly so.

His forearm bore much more distinct muscle definition, and on the inner side, there was actually a tattoo. Zhang Shutong froze once more. When on earth had this been tattooed on? Not only was his version of this timeline a complete mess, but he had even given in to depravity?

However, too many astonishing things had happened to him today. Zhang Shutong silently glanced at the tattoo. He didn't want Ruoping and Dukang to notice its presence—though the two of them had undoubtedly seen it, it was still better to cover it up. He wiped away the moisture on his clothes and was just about to pull his sleeves back down when Dukang suddenly pushed his hand aside.

His eyes remained fixed on the tattoo on his arm, and he spoke with a complex expression:

"So all these years, you still haven't given up on finding that person..."

"The murderer who killed Gu Qiumian."