8 Reality

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Fang Qingzhao remained unmoved by her mockery, her attitude openly stubborn and impervious to reason.

Ji He’s gaze was like that of someone looking at a desperate, cornered soldier, helplessly saying, “What if Zhou Sui Rong is fake too?”

Fang Qingzhao replied, “I believe he is real.”

Ji He swiped across the computer’s touchpad, the screen glowing as it switched to a photo of a man.

Out of the corner of her eye, Fang Qingzhao caught sight of it; her pupils suddenly contracted sharply. Before her mind could react, her body, along with the chair, recoiled backward.

The floor screeched painfully as the wooden chair dragged across it. Shivering from lingering fear, she stood up.

Ji He, seeing this, calmly unscrewed a bottle cap and took a sip of water.

The young man opposite, eyes wide and bright like copper bells, shuffled closer, resting his hands on the table edge and craning his neck to sneak a glance at the screen.

The man in the photo appeared refined and upright, wearing half-rimmed glasses, exuding a steady scholarly aura. Yet his eyes were lifeless, and upon closer inspection, gave off a dark, gloomy impression.

The youth quickly shifted his gaze to Fang Qingzhao.

His emotions were raw and shallow, almost blatantly displayed on his face without any defense. At that moment, he showed no surprise at her intense reaction but rather a faint worry.

They scrutinized each other, each detecting a trace of tension in the other’s eyes.

Feeling inexplicably guilty, the youth turned his face away.

Fang Qingzhao’s demeanor faltered, her voice trembling with a fear she hadn’t realized, “Who is he?”

“Lv Jiancheng—the kidnapper of Shen Zhiyang. Who else could it be? I’ve told you twice already. With your intelligence, why ask such useless questions?” Ji He said, expression unreadable as he closed the laptop and handed it to the youth, then gently pushed him behind himself to protect the valuable equipment.

“We found the first crime scene. A large amount of blood was left behind. Judging by the volume, Lv Jiancheng was already dead, but the body was taken away by you.”

Fang Qingzhao’s voice tightened until it cracked, “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Ji He pushed the chair aside, took a step forward, and grabbed her wrist firmly, forcing her to look at the wound on his palm. “You’re not good at killing; there’s too much evidence left behind. Even the murder weapon was found in a nearby bathroom trash can. Your DNA was detected on it.”

Standing straight, Ji He was half a head taller than Fang Qingzhao. His brows lowered as he stared at her from close range, radiating a formidable presence that left no room to hide.

She magnanimously offered a trade: “You tell me where the body is, and I’ll tell you where Zhou Sui Rong is.”

Fang Qingzhao pulled her hand away, angrily asserting, “I said I don’t know!”

The next moment, Ji He dropped a bombshell without warning: “Zhou Sui Rong committed suicide.”

Fang Qingzhao froze as if struck by a pause button; the surrounding air stiffened with her. The color drained from her face in a suffocating illusion, and an overwhelming terror spread from the depths of her marrow.

Ji He watched her rapidly shifting expression, stepping aside to sit on the desk, his back slightly bent, speaking plainly: “He was a victim before you. When he realized his consciousness was fading, he chose to take his own life.”

Fang Qingzhao’s mind raced fiercely, her fierce gaze seeming to peel away every layer of Ji He’s false facade as she stammered, “Impossible. When I was at the hotel, I wrote myself reminders. According to those notes, I checked into the hotel on August 24th, went out once the next day, but only on the 27th did I mark that I couldn’t contact Zhou Sui Rong, meaning until then I hadn’t lost touch with him. He disappeared on the 26th.”

Ji He looked intrigued and sincerely asked, “Why do you always have such extraordinary mental acuity in places I don’t understand?”

She crossed her arms and raised her chin calmly: “Are you sure the one you met was Zhou Sui Rong? You don’t even know why you stayed at the hotel. You’re just piecing together a logic chain from sparse and chaotic information without cause or effect. Whether this logic is your own or planted by someone else, can you be sure?”

Fang Qingzhao was speechless, locked under Ji He’s gaze. Trying to retreat, she found her steps halted—she had unknowingly reached the wall.

She pressed her fingers against it, as if to gain some comfort. Her fingertips brushed over rough scratches, and she involuntarily lowered her head to look.

The room was surrounded by white walls, regularly maintained. The patch she touched was noticeably different in color from the adjacent wall.

On this old patch that had been deliberately avoided during repainting, there was a pattern scratched with fingernails—a simple smiley face made of only four strokes.

“Why do you keep wanting to see Zhou Sui Rong?” Ji He’s voice was so close it sent chills down Fang Qingzhao’s spine. She shuddered and used her elbow to keep him at bay.

“What do you plan to do after seeing him? Has someone suggested this to you? Is he the anchor point stabilizing your cognition?” Ji He, disregarding her rejection, pressed his hand and fired a series of questions. “Is it out of love, or intuition? Do you still believe in so-called intuition now?”

Fang Qingzhao retorted, “Do you think you’re trustworthy?”

“Fang Qingzhao wouldn’t ask such reckless questions. She can exclude subjectivity and reach conclusions,” Ji He said. “I don’t want to drive you crazy, but you should realize this: if all possibilities listed in the question are incorrect, then the problem lies in the premise. Since you can’t judge with your mind, the only thing worth trusting is your body’s conditioned reflex.”

A dark current rippled in Ji He’s eyes, like a cautious but probing pause, subtly asking, “When we first met, we asked you—do you really know your own name?”

Fang Qingzhao felt as if plunged into an ice cellar, limbs cold and weak, leaning back slightly, relying on the wall for support.

Her headache hadn’t arrived as expected, but that brought no relief.

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This time, Ji He’s impact on her was greater than ever. She began desperately recalling Zhou Sui Rong to verify her own reality.

She thought they had known each other for eleven years, since Zhou started university. Before that, they had met a few times unwittingly.

She was hard to approach, lazy in socializing, lacking normal human impulses and emotions. Even her parents couldn’t tolerate her, thinking she was too cold and distant. Her words often killed the mood and embarrassed others.

She held no expectations for the future. After her parents’ divorce, no one cared about her prospects. Society’s rules upheld her daily life, telling her she should study, work, make friends—normal behaviors she could follow.

She found stability in rules, even if just a framework; at least it kept a person’s shape.

She was like a dry skeleton wandering, searching for new flesh. But those were merely decorations...

No.

Wrong.

Fang Qingzhao felt her thoughts being torn apart. Memories buried deep inside were stuck in that dark fissure, slowly crawling out.

No, that last sentence was spoken by someone else to her.

Startled and frightened, she skipped over that part, her mind automatically reading on.

In Zhou Sui Rong’s third year of graduate school, he was nearly invisible. After competing in the Sanyao Youth Contest, he was swamped preparing for graduation.

Just before the Lunar New Year, Fang Qingzhao unexpectedly met him in the lobby of the Sanyao building. He stood at the door holding a phone, seemingly waiting for someone.

He wore a gray wool sweater, with a jacket draped over his arm, probably feeling warm. He stood near the door, where the wind blew.

He stood out, as if surrounded by a bright yellow halo; many eyes lingered on him.

Fang Qingzhao greeted him. Before she could ask about his plans, Zhou put on his jacket, walked ahead to open the door for her, and they walked out together.

They strolled side by side for a while. Fang Qingzhao belatedly realized something, thought it over, and asked with what she considered emotional intelligence, “Has your work situation been resolved? Do you need me to help?”

“Your hands aren’t round at all,” Zhou said, naturally pinching her fingers and palm. Then he grasped her hand, slipping it into his pocket.

Fang Qingzhao tilted her face toward him briefly, reminding, “Stealing is illegal.”

Zhou couldn’t hold back a laugh, his brows and eyes full of passionate joy and affection. He leaned over and kissed her lightly, softly asking, “What about stealing a kiss?”

Fang Qingzhao replied solemnly, “That’s more serious, a crime on top of a crime.”

Zhou tried not to laugh, pleading with mock sorrow, “What should I do then? Can I pay privately? But I’m just a student, don’t have much saved.”

Fang Qingzhao judged fairly, “Compensate.”

Zhou reluctantly said, “I’ll sell myself. I’m quite valuable. Boss Fang, can you give change?”

Thus, Zhou Sui Rong naturally joined her new team.

Zhou had a brightness completely different from hers, with a natural charm that made him beloved.

He reached out to her with perception, converting her cold aloofness into a taciturn nature, answering for her at times, explaining for her, making her come alive. Friends who had known her for years never suspected she was a strange person.

They shared many real stories.

Real and warm.

They had both left heavy marks on each other’s lives.

No.

No, that wasn’t right.

Cold sweat dripped down Fang Qingzhao’s face, a piercing despair struck her to the core. Her tongue trembled numbingly, unable to utter a sound; her short breaths turned into cries of agony.

If she hadn’t had her self-deceptive escape routes cut off, she wouldn’t have questioned her past.

But no one’s past is fragmentary, like folders neatly categorized, preserving only the positive parts.

She had always subconsciously ignored this, but it was too illogical. When Ji He asked if she wanted to verify the video’s authenticity, she couldn’t even find the skill.

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She did not recognize this disfigured Fang Qingzhao.

Then who was she?

At the instant she accepted this thought, multiple voices clamored in her ears, maliciously tugging at her feet, trying to drag her into a deeper nightmare.

First was Zhou Sui Rong’s low plea from a voicemail: “Call me, okay? I want to talk to you.”

Then a voice full of surprise and mockery: “Didn’t expect you’re doing pretty well now, like a normal person.”

And the phrase that shook her soul just now: “Fang Qingzhao, actually you’re no different from us, all just dry skeletons…”

“...”

The mixed information tangled together with unbearable dissonance. Fang Qingzhao felt the world spinning, her body losing balance, drifting drowsily.

Her vision twisted strangely, briefly flashing inverted scenes.

A pool of blood with a corpse lying across it, intense crimson, air thick with rust.

A wave of immense sorrow suddenly surged, overwhelming all reason. Tears uncontrollably streamed down, soaking the bleak scene.

Fang Qingzhao staggered toward the bathroom, unaware of when Ji He and the youth had left.

She turned on the tap, scooped up cold water, and splashed it on her face. Eyes closed, she heard a chilling scream.

Strange memories flooded in like a burst dam.

She heard a voice speaking through a door. The voice was muffled by distance. Her vision blurred more, focused on a shattered piece of glass, pale light hovering above her head, countless fractured white shards flickering before her eyes.

“Do you know why that pervert kidnapped her?”

She heard herself answer, “I’ve heard a little.”

The other side explained, “Lv Jiancheng had a daughter who was burned in a fire accident, losing half her nose. When he took her to the park for fresh air, he met Shen Zhiyang.

“Shen Zhiyang staredI'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.