Chapter 207 - 90: Catching the "Snake" (Finale)

One step away.

The final second.

Four.

WHUMP.

A cloud of snow erupted in his vision, and the rapidly approaching figure vanished in an instant.

Zhang Shutong heard a girl's muffled grunt from the snow pit. Her voice was usually crisp and emotionless, but now it held a hint of pain.

Zhang Shutong didn't approach rashly. Instead, he took a few steps back. He waited for the snow cloud to dissipate, his gaze fixed on the top of the pit. 'Qingyi and the others really dug this deep, leaving no way out. I can't even see the top of Lu Qinglian's head.' A pit like this was hard to fall into, but once you did, the loose snow on all sides meant the more you struggled, the deeper you sank.

But that was just in theory.

Zhang Shutong mentally counted a few more seconds. Only when the pit fell silent did he approach cautiously.

Looking down, he saw Lu Qinglian raise her beautiful face. Her peach-blossom eyes were devoid of emotion—or rather, any emotion they held was frozen solid. She was just staring daggers at him.

The once cool and distant girl was now covered in snow, from her hair to her face. Strands of her long hair stuck to her cheeks, making her look like a fallen fairy, utterly disheveled.

"Sorry," Zhang Shutong said, crouching down with a sigh. "Maybe you have your reasons, but no matter what, you shouldn't have targeted Gu Qiuyan."

Lu Qinglian's brow furrowed at his words.

Then, she spoke.

The woman who would be sealed in a black-and-white photo album eight years from now seemed to reappear before him:

"Zhang Shutong. You. Impressive."

Lu Qinglian spoke one word at a time, her expression unchanging, but Zhang Shutong felt a profound chill.

"Why does it have to be like this?" He averted his gaze, unwilling to meet hers. "I didn't want this either."

In the past, when facing culprits—be it Li Yipeng, Zhou Ziheng, his own father, or the arsonist from the commercial street—he couldn't be bothered to waste words on them.

He had always been a direct person, prioritizing efficiency above all else, which often led him to overlook others' feelings. It was impossible to trace when this personality had formed, but it was this very same person who now felt the urge to say a little more to Lu Qinglian.

He was filled with a sense of regret.

Because the event that had triggered his regression was attending her funeral.

And also because, upon returning to eight years in the past, the very first words his sixteen-year-old self had spoken were to Lu Qinglian.

"In any case, you haven't done anything yet, so it's not like I can really do anything to you," Zhang Shutong found himself rambling. "What's the hidden story? The motive? Who else is involved? Why don't you just tell me everything now? We can pretend none of this ever happened. You can go back to school, and I won't threaten you."

"Threaten me?" He saw Lu Qinglian speak again, her voice cold. "And this isn't a threat?"

"I had no choice."

"How did you figure it out?" Lu Qinglian simply asked.

'How did I figure it out?'

'The poisoned dog, the tattoo... those all happened in the last timeline.'

'It's kind of sad, having to lie about even this.'

"Answer my questions first." Zhang Shutong didn't want to explain, so he didn't respond to her question. Unraveling the mystery—this was supposed to be his moment of triumph.

He felt little joy, only a desire to take a deep breath and exhale his faint exhaustion.

But Lu Qinglian ignored him. She blinked uncomfortably, as if trying to brush the snowflakes from her lashes, and began to rapidly analyze the situation aloud:

"You've been preparing all this since you saw me get in the car? With the help of your friends?"

"Not that early. Probably when I was changing clothes." Zhang Shutong paused for a moment. "You're too hard to control. I had no other way."

"What other preparations?"

"Nothing else." He spread his hands. "As you can see, it was a hasty plan. I wasn't even sure it would work."

"Who else knows about this?"

"Don't worry, I haven't told anyone my suspicions about you. I just told Qingyi about some of the strange things I noticed. Of course, the two of us couldn't figure much out." Zhang Shutong held up three fingers. "Except that your fingers are very nimble."

"You know," he continued, "there are too many mysteries surrounding you. And you won't say anything no matter how I ask. This was the only way I could think of."

"You're the same." The girl's expression didn't soften. Her words were like sharpened blades.

"We're... not quite the same." Zhang Shutong couldn't stand her icy gaze. "At least I don't go out of my way to harm people."

"Then what is this?"

Zhang Shutong fell silent again. To be honest, he was already getting tired.

Interrogating someone in the freezing snow was not a pleasant task.

"Let's get back to business. I ask, you answer," Zhang Shutong said. "The Cyan Snake Temple, or rather, what does the Cyan Snake represent? I've heard a few versions. One says the Cyan Snake represents long life, that it's still alive today. Another says you Temple Priestesses are descendants of the Cyan Snake. I don't know if that has anything to do with why you're such a good fighter... Of course, these versions can't all be right. What's the real story?"

But Lu Qinglian remained silent.

Zhang Shutong waited a moment before asking again:

"Why did you want to harm Gu Qiuyan? And why were you going to take her to the forbid— I mean, that wasteland by the lake to the west? Don't ask me how I know. It's your turn to answer me. Also, is it just because her family wants to tear down your temple? Or is there another reason?

"Right, one more thing. What's the connection between you and those frozen snakes? Are they for passing messages? Are they venomous? I never used to believe in this stuff, but it seems there really might be some supernatural forces at play. Of course, maybe there's a scientific explanation. If people can train dogs, I suppose training snakes isn't impossible, it's just that the methods have always been kept secret."