That night of fatigue didn’t bring a peaceful sleep. Huo Ranyin was preoccupied, and in the middle of the night, he woke with a start. He reached for Ji Xun, who was sleeping beside him, and Ji Xun was indeed gone.
Had the other man not slept again tonight?
He searched for the figure and quickly spotted Ji Xun sitting on the windowsill.
The room lights were off, but the closed curtains had been pulled open, and the faint light of the night illuminated the person by the window.
Ji Xun was toying with a tortoiseshell cat doll. Huo Ranyin wondered where he’d found it—had it come as a free gift with something he’d bought earlier?
He kept his gaze fixed on Ji Xun as he wondered.
Though Ji Xun was playing with the cat, his heart didn’t seem to be in it. He had one leg bent, his chin resting on his knee, his eyes not on the toy in his hands, but tilted towards the moon outside the window.
The moon was hidden in the clouds, only revealing a few slivers of pale yellow light.
Huo Ranyin propped himself up on an elbow, his mind still muddled. He couldn’t be bothered with formalities; a surge of anger, like a sprinter, rushed into his brain with no logical reason.
The quilt slid from his shoulder with a soft rustle. The cold air struck his bare back, making his thoughts clear slightly—this was the peak of his lucidity.
He called out, “Ji Xun—”
He thought he’d shouted quite loudly, but the sound was very small and a little hoarse. Last night, his throat had been used excessively in a short amount of time.
The next moment, Ji Xun, sitting by the window, turned his head, surprised to see Huo Ranyin awake: “What woke you?”
Huo Ranyin didn’t answer, just looked at him.
Ji Xun stood up from the windowsill and walked towards the bed.
“Do you want water?” Ji Xun asked, “Or…”
He didn’t need to ask further. Upon reaching the bed, Ji Xun finally saw Huo Ranyin’s face clearly in the dark.
Huo Ranyin seemed a little angry.
He was fine before sleeping, so how had he gotten angry just from sleeping? Ji Xun found it odd. Based on their past interactions, Huo Ranyin wasn’t the type to be overly sensitive or emotionally volatile.
The mystery was quickly solved.
“You didn’t sleep again?” Huo Ranyin asked.
“Hmm…” Ji Xun replied, “Old habit, just get used to it.”
Huo Ranyin silently reached out and pulled Ji Xun onto the bed.
Ji Xun yielded to the force and got into the bed, lying down.
The quilt was lifted and then covered Ji Xun, tucked right under his collarbone at his neck. Even in his groggy state, Huo Ranyin seemed to maintain the meticulousness of his usual work life.
“Sleep now,” Huo Ranyin commanded.
“…Alright, alright,” Ji Xun chuckled, grabbing Huo Ranyin’s exposed arm and tucking it back under the quilt. He even mumbled, “Waking up in the middle of the night… I guess I didn’t completely drain you last night.”
Who drained who?
Huo Ranyin desperately wanted to retort with a cold laugh. But his aching thighs reminded him of a few things, as did the fiery chafing on his inner thighs, now covered by cool medicine…
Ji Xun turned over and embraced him, burying his head in his neck. The comforting warmth surrounded him once more, and his consciousness, which had been sharply awoken by the cold air, returned to the comfortable bed to slumber.
That slight embarrassment also dissipated.
He used his last bit of energy to murmur a final instruction:
“…Sleep early.”
“Mhm.”
Ji Xun’s clear response sounded by his ear. His vision went black as Ji Xun’s palm covered his eyes.
“Go to sleep now. Your eyelids are fighting each other; don’t force yourself. You look tired.”
Tired is good, let’s sleep together.
Huo Ranyin blinked in Ji Xun’s palm, deciding he was a bit too verbose tonight, and left the thought unsaid. He held Ji Xun’s hand, and his last remaining spark of energy slipped away like a thread. He fell asleep again.
Daybreak came, and the vibration of a phone woke Ji Xun.
Ji Xun felt a deep, unfulfilled sleepiness… This kind of fatigue was different from the exhaustion after an all-nighter; both felt tiring, but the former was the fatigue of having slept but not enough, while the latter was the fatigue of having not slept at all.
It was 6:50 AM. He had bought a ticket for an early high-speed train, so the alarm was set early.
However, he had only lain down around 2 AM, and hadn’t tossed and turned much before falling asleep. By approximation, that was four hours—which he could actually say was a pretty good amount of sleep.
He glanced at Huo Ranyin beside him.
Huo Ranyin’s arm was still draped over his shoulder. He hadn’t been startled awake by the alarm’s vibration. Perhaps the rare moments of relaxation in his usually high-tension captain’s life were just before sleep, causing him to lose some alertness and sleep more deeply than usual.
Ji Xun quietly got up, left the room, went home to grab his luggage, and headed straight to the high-speed rail station.
By the time he circled back, he was a little late, but thankfully, he made it onto the train just before the gate closed. The editor accompanying him this time was his chief editor, named Ai Yin (埃因).
Ai Yin was a little younger than Ji Xun and wore thick, black-rimmed glasses, but the look of grievance he gave Ji Xun was something even the heavy lenses couldn’t hide.
“Mr. Ji, you took so long, I thought you weren’t going to show up today.”
“Don’t worry, I never back out of things I promise the publishing house,” Ji Xun yawned.
“But the manuscript…”
“Can dragging my feet on a manuscript be called backing out?” Ji Xun said with stern righteousness.
“…”
In the few steps from the platform to the train car, Ji Xun had yawned several times. Once on the train, he made a detour, bypassing the First Class seat he’d bought and heading to the Business Class compartment.
“Mr. Ji, we’re going the wrong way,” Ai Yin quickly called out beside him.
“Not wrong, I upgraded our seats,” Ji Xun said. “I’m unusually sleepy, so I’ll catch a little more sleep on the train. Wake me up when we arrive.”
With that, he fully reclined the Business Class seat, pulled the blanket high, covered his face, and lay down to sleep.
“No problem. Someone will meet us at the station and take us to the hotel. The book signing will be at Qinjiang International Middle School—”
“International Middle School? Not a bookstore?” Ji Xun asked.
“No, the final venue confirmed was the International Middle School,” Ai Yin explained.
Ji Xun just responded casually. He was trying to summon his drowsiness and gradually began to tune out. The high-speed train sped along, and in the rhythm of its regular vibrations, he drifted between waking and dreaming. A sliver of hazy light leaked through a gap in the blanket covering him, its shifting, rainbow colors drawing his thoughts into the distance, towards Qin City.
Qin City was Huo Ranyin’s hometown.
But after all these years since the case… since the case of Huo Ranyin’s parents’ death, nineteen years have passed. Can I still find anything here?
Speaking of Qin City… right, Qin City, Qinjiang University.
Ji Xun pulled another memory out of his memory palace.
He suddenly realized this was not his first visit to Qin City. Back when he was in college, he had purposely skipped class to come to Qinjiang University for a psychology lecture.
He recalled the lecture being incredibly boring, at least he kept dozing off. Back then, he was at an age where he could sleep however and in whatever position he wanted.
What happened later?
A dark image slipped into his memory, a fleeting glimpse in his mind.
—Brother, I want to kill him.
Who?
Who wanted to kill whom?
Ji Xun woke up with a start. The brilliant sunshine made him squint. Inside the train car, a sweet female voice was announcing, “Today, the ground temperature in Qin City is between -2° and 10°. Please remember to keep warm… Qin City welcomes you.”
Qin City had arrived.
The first priority upon reaching Qin City was to prepare for the book signing the next day.
The location was the aforementioned Qinjiang International Middle School. Its name sounded very international, its grades and teaching quality were yet unknown, but Ji Xun figured the tuition must also be quite international, otherwise a middle school constructing an eight-story library with a fountain landscape seemed excessively luxurious.
The book signing venue inside the library was already set up. Two large rows of expensive celebratory flower baskets were added to the already luxurious décor. Furthermore, a self-service afternoon tea was set up in the reader waiting area, custom-ordered from a five-star hotel in Qin City. They gave Ji Xun samples to taste.
Ji Xun ate a red-eyed mousse rabbit from the plate and found the taste quite good.
He asked, “Did the publishing house arrange this? Are author signings this high-end now?”
Ai Yin replied honestly, “The venue was arranged with help from the Foundation, and the rest was set up by us. Mostly, the budget was really generous, and we needed to spend the money to reconcile the accounts with the Foundation.”
“…Did you not tell them they approved too much budget?”
“Of course we communicated that, but they said a generous budget is better than a tight one.”
“They’re being so kind to me,” Ji Xun mused, “What’s the catch?”
“The catch is, of course, that your writing is excellent,” Ai Yin said candidly.
You’re more confident than I am.
Ji Xun glanced at his editor but ultimately said nothing.
Leaving the library, the school administrative staff was very enthusiastic, taking Ji Xun and the editor on a tour.
This Qinjiang International Middle School occupied a complete four-hundred-meter standard athletic track in the heart of the city, where every inch of land was precious, along with an almost equally sized tennis court and outdoor basketball court, a rare beach volleyball court, and, of course, an indoor swimming pool, and indoor courts for basketball, volleyball, badminton, and table tennis. In short, they had everything imaginable.
“It’s still winter break, so there aren’t many people in the school. When it’s time for the sports meeting, the school gets lively. Other schools in Qin City basically rent our venue,” the staff member said with pride. “To rent the venue, they even have to negotiate the schedule themselves. From the start of school in September, reservations can be lined up all the way to December. Besides our fully-equipped sports grounds, the ‘Nightingale Road’ and ‘Cherry Blossom Dell’ are also very famous. During the flower season, it’s packed with people.”
“Was your school built in recent years?” Ji Xun asked, looking at the almost-new teaching buildings and sports facilities.
“It’s only been renovated in recent years. Our history is quite long.”
“Oh? It’s rare to see a large-scale renovation of an old campus nowadays, as most schools move to new campuses in the suburbs.”
The staff member smiled. “We were originally going to move to the New City area, but luckily, we merged with Qinjiang University Affiliated Middle School a few years ago and jointly secured the area in the middle. Now, the actual occupied area is sufficient, so we don’t have to move to the New City.”
Ji Xun paused slightly, lifting his eyes to look at the faintly visible Qin City landmark in the distance beyond the low-lying sports field—the Qinjiang Drum Tower.
“So this was originally the location of the Qinjiang University Affiliated Middle School?”
“That’s right.”
Qinjiang University Affiliated Middle School.
A crucial frame from his heavily dust-laden memories was retrieved, and Ji Xun reached out and grabbed it.
He remembered. Nine years ago, in 2007, after attending a psychology lecture that he’d had high hopes for but turned out to be incredibly boring, he left early.
But he still had some time before his scheduled train ticket, so he didn’t leave Qinjiang University immediately. He wandered around the unfamiliar campus, admiring the sights. As fate would have it, in the lobby of the Qinjiang University laboratory building, he saw a pair of middle-aged men with receding hairlines arguing and shoving a shopping card back and forth.
At the time, his curiosity was intense, so he hid to the side and started eavesdropping and watching.
He quickly learned that these prematurely balding middle-aged men were both teachers, one from Qinjiang University and the other from the Qinjiang University Affiliated Middle School. The Affiliated Middle School teacher was trying to slip the shopping card to the Qinjiang University teacher, not for his own business, but for the school’s.
A malicious poisoning incident had occurred at their school.
The water cooler in Class E of the second year of high school, apparently, had been poisoned.
