Chapter 3: The Heiress of the Island and the Penguin

Memories were interrupted.

Zhang Shutong thought the timing was just right; since he had forgotten the name of his deskmate, he would wait until the new seating arrangement to greet them.

It was the second class of the afternoon, and soon there would be a long recess, usually for running.

But since there was snow on the playground, each class was allowed to arrange their own activities.

Their class had a fixed monthly seat rearrangement. Looking around, some students were already prepared, while others leisurely closed their notebooks, ready to pack them into their bags.

In that sense, he was the last to learn about the change.

He understood this quietly and busied himself with packing his things, only pausing when he caught sight of a scrap of paper with a name written on it.

He decided to ponder it further at home that night. It wouldn’t hurt to be cautious. He carefully placed the paper inside his “Five Three” workbook, a habit stemming from his personality—better safe than sorry for boys his age.

Just as he was about to stuff a pile of things into his backpack, Zhang Shutong suddenly felt a dilemma.

His bag was already crammed with tests, textbooks, workbooks, and folders — all sorts of materials from various subjects mixed together, making it impossible to remember how to organize them properly.

Having lived alone for years, he knew there were generally two types of single dwellers:

Either they lived in utter chaos;

Or they kept their lives impeccably orderly.

Zhang Shutong was the latter, even bordering on obsessive-compulsive; he simply couldn’t stand messy stuffing.

With this in mind, he moved to the bookshelf on the side of the classroom, planning to temporarily place some things there.

The bookshelf was long, spanning an entire wall, with a cubby for every student; each class was also assigned a shelf.

The bookshelf itself had no connection to Gu Qiumian’s home—the school wasn’t that shabby—but the items displayed on it did.

Previously, it was mentioned that Gu Qiumian had never made friends in class and kept distant from everyone, so Miss Gu simply created her own circle.

She neither cared about others nor liked others interfering with her, but wasn’t particularly unpleasant, so she didn’t do anything too outrageous, just a bit unorthodox.

For example, she loved building Lego sets—authentic ones, which were quite expensive. Zhang Shutong knew this hobby from what he saw.

Every class had a few potted plants to decorate the room, usually golden pothos or snake plants, but their class had an extra Lego castle on the shelf, part of Gu Qiumian’s collection.

He still remembered his cubby was right beneath the castle, which was about the size of a washbasin, styled in European fashion, with a Lego figure wearing a skirt standing at the entrance.

Hidden among the lush green leaves, it looked like a princess living in a secluded forest. That was the privilege of the heiress.

Glancing toward the window seat, the number of ghost faces layered on the glass was unclear, and it was impossible to tell what Gu Qiumian had drawn.

She seemed aware of this too, furrowing her brows and staring for a long time, then laughing at the monstrous patterns before wiping it off and returning to her homework. The pendant at her hair’s end swayed slightly with the movement.

Zhang Shutong stared at that pendant, then turned to look around the quiet classroom. Sometimes the wind howled, hitting the window, making the glass tremble and feel a bit fragile.

Outside, the world was dim; the fluorescent lights overhead had a yellowish tint but gave a warm feeling.

He had no idea how long it had been since he last felt so relaxed.

But only he knew that in five days, this comforting scene would be shattered.

Recalling the details of that murder case, and considering Gu Qiumian’s special background, he had heard two versions:

One said the culprit was short on money and resorted to kidnapping, but negotiations failed, leading to tragedy.

Another said it was an enemy of Gu’s father, someone who had done unspeakable deeds during his rise to wealth, and the children suffered as a result. This version was more widespread and even had supporters.

But Zhang Shutong didn’t really believe either version. Whether for money or revenge, neither explained why there was another attack on Lu Qinglian eight years later.

Since those theories didn’t fit, he recalled information Du Kang had once shared:

“The murderer from that case was never caught. Some fishermen said they saw someone near the restricted area before the incident...”

Not very clear clues, but better than nothing.

After tidying his things, he had an idea.

Of course, he wouldn’t rush into action immediately.

At sixteen, he would have been a lone wolf, harboring a huge secret, skipping class to immediately bike to the “restricted area.”

Now it was different. To put it bluntly, his personality had grown somewhat indifferent over the years. The fact was:

There were still several days before the incident. Being anxious wouldn’t help, and calling the police was better than acting alone.

Even if he reported it, it could wait until after school; half a day wouldn’t matter.

If life had a main mission, his was to cherish this second chance he’d been given.

The side mission was to catch the culprit and create a “happy ending.”

As for dealing with the two girls involved or growing closer to them, Zhang Shutong had no interest.

Since there wasn’t much connection eight years ago, starting over would be no different.

Ultimately, he hated trouble and preferred to resolve matters quietly without arousing anyone’s suspicion.

If he had free time, he’d rather go fishing with his close buddies.

Just as he wondered if his fishing skills had deteriorated after so many years, the class bell rang.

Yawns, complaints, laughter—the once quiet classroom suddenly burst into noise.

Students stood up one by one, their figures swaying before him, rubber soles scraping against the terrazzo floor.

Seeing this, the world finally felt real.

Zhang Shutong found himself wanting to stretch—a strange sensation, as if dormant body memories were awakening, enlivening his thoughts.

If he were older, what he wanted most now was to get a driver’s license, buy his own car, a used compact one would do.

Not too small, of course—he’d need space in the trunk for fishing rods and a water tank, then drive around the country to see all the sceneries he’d missed over the years.

There were also regrets to mend: no longer worrying his parents, getting into a better university, and keeping in touch with good friends. But he had no intention of making more friends; he believed a few good ones were enough.

Speaking of friends, Zhang Shutong didn’t rush to reunite with his best buddies; he wanted to wander around first.

After leaving the classroom, he was in Class 4 of the four-year school, sitting at the front of the corridor, right next to the stairs.

Two people were talking on the stairs.

One was his homeroom teacher, leaning on the railing.

The other, opposite the teacher, was a girl in a cyan cloth robe.

The girl’s aura was cool and aloof, her long hair flowing down to her waist as she sat on the steps.

Zhang Shutong couldn’t help but stop.

It was no wonder—if you had just bowed to her photo a few hours ago, and now saw her alive in front of you, anyone would pause and look.

The girl named Lu Qinglian seemed to have just come back from outside; her delicate face was pale from the cold, and the hem of her rough cloth robe was still wet with snow.

Normally, frostbite would turn skin red, but hers was naturally pale, now glowing with flawless coldness like porcelain, even more so against the cyan robe.

He wasn’t the only curious one; more and more students streamed out into the corridor, many glancing this way.

After all, a girl who looked like she had just returned from cultivating immortality, beautiful and mysterious, was a hit with both boys and girls.

Perhaps because she gave off an overwhelming sense of distance, no one dared approach her, only whispering from afar.

Lu Qinglian seemed indifferent to the noise, focused on her own business, cupping her hands near her lips and gently blowing warm breath.

Zhang Shutong had no such reservations.

He not only stared for a while but noticed a little giveaway:

She was probably wearing several layers underneath. When standing, the robe was loose and flowing, moving with her and swaying in the wind, giving her an ethereal air—enough to pass for a fairy.

But now that she was sitting, she looked bulky and puffy.

The slender figure hidden beneath created a contrast, a bit off. Not a fairy, but more like a penguin who had returned from cultivation.

Then Zhang Shutong heard the homeroom teacher ask the “penguin”:

“Finished shoveling snow at the temple?”

“Mm, the mountain was slippery, some parts iced over, delayed me a bit.”

Now he understood.

She had just helped out at the temple.

Their homeroom teacher was a young man named Song, a nice guy who knew the girl’s family situation was special and always granted leave without hesitation.

“I told you, you could come tomorrow. What if you slipped? I’ll talk to your grandmother.”

“It’s not her; I wanted to come myself,” the girl said calmly.

Teacher Song could only smile wryly:

“Still no need to rush. Look at you, didn’t even change clothes before coming…”

“This was on purpose. It’s too cold outside.”

As she spoke, the girl took off her robe, revealing the school uniform jacket underneath.

The conversation died.

“...Alright then, warm up first. I’ll collect yesterday’s homework later. Next class is mine; I’ll go over the problems.”

Before leaving, Teacher Song reminded her.

Lu Qinglian only nodded, folded the robe and stuffed it into her backpack, then bit on a hair tie and tied her long hair into a ponytail.

When she looked up, their eyes met.

“Thank you,” the girl suddenly said.

Thank what? Zhang Shutong was puzzled. Did she mean the five-hundred-yuan “white envelope” he had sealed for her not long ago? No, that would turn this into a supernatural tale.

Then, she handed over a pair of gloves.

He took them, examining their stylish design—black with padded knuckles, nearly as large as Lu Qinglian’s face.

They were outdoor tactical gloves; he had once owned a pair bought for fishing.

These looked familiar.

They were his.

Made of nylon, unlike wool gloves that soaked up water, these would be practical for shoveling snow.

Though her pants were wet at the cuffs, the gloves were clean and well-kept.

He noticed her hands were rough, unlike the tender skin typical of peers. They bore marks of hard work, with a few frostbite cracks on her palms and fingers.

Though he didn’t recall this happening... he nodded:

“No big deal.”

“Looking for me?” Lu Qinglian tilted her head and added, “I saw you here earlier.”

Zhang Shutong wanted to correct her:

Actually, you’re the one who sought me.

More precisely, it was you eight years later who called me.

He doubted he would ever hear that call again, but no longer felt regret—after all, he was still alive.

In truth, Zhang Shutong didn’t have much to say to her and was about to shake his head and decline when, before leaving, he couldn’t help but reflect on fate’s strangeness.

Eight years later, he came to the island to attend her funeral, and by coincidence, the first person he spoke to was her.

He suddenly wanted to play the riddle man:

“Do you have a phone?”

“No, why?”

“When you get one, remember not to call people in the middle of the night.”

The conversation should have ended there, with him cheerfully walking away and her left bewildered, pondering—as he had pondered that call.

Unexpectedly, she seriously considered it:

“A bad joke?”

She said this but didn’t even smile.

“Yeah... I just don’t have a sense of humor.”

Zhang Shutong bit his lip and strode off.

He really ought to bring Du Kang over to show him what true aloofness meant.

...

However, what he didn’t expect was that soon after he left, Lu Qinglian entered the classroom.

She first checked the homework on the desks, then came to the seat of a student named Zhang Shutong, glancing around.

“What’s up?” a boy suddenly popped out eagerly, with a baby face and constant grin.

It was Du Kang.

“Just back from shoveling snow?” he tried to make conversation.

“Yeah.”

“Was it cold outside?”

“A bit.”

“Want me to help next time?”

“No need.”

No matter what was said, her tone remained flat, even somewhat perfunctory.

She intended to wait there for Zhang Shutong, but since he and Du Kang were best friends, talking to him was almost like talking to Zhang himself. So she explained:

“He didn’t hand in yesterday’s English homework.”

She recalled that Zhang Shutong’s grades were always good, especially in English, and he rarely missed homework.

“Really...” Du Kang’s expression turned awkward.

“He didn’t do it?”

“Uh...”

So she was right.

“I’ll bring it to the teacher then. Mr. Song wants it next class.”

Those words sounded like a death sentence to Du Kang, who quickly protested:

“Don’t tell, don’t tell. He probably did it; I’ll help find it.”

Names of those who hadn’t handed homework got noted on sticky notes and reported to the homeroom teacher. Zhang had been punished once before.

Other class monitors might plead for leniency, but Lu Qinglian showed no mercy.

The teacher had previously decreed that anyone who didn’t hand in homework had to do a week’s worth of class duties. It wasn’t a heavy punishment, but they had plans after school and couldn’t afford distractions.

That’s why friends were so important; now they could save a life:

“He did half last night, and I remember he said he’d finish it during study hall today.”

Lu Qinglian found it odd.

If he hadn’t done it, why not just not tell the teacher? Why complicate things?

But explaining might cause more trouble, so she waited for Du Kang to look.

Meanwhile, Du Kang, with his best friend’s bag on the desk and no need for formalities, searched for the homework while trying to make conversation—a rare chance to talk to a girl he liked:

“Guess what we did yesterday?”

“Fishing?”

“Exactly!”

Du Kang snapped his fingers:

“At that wild field south of here, you know? I caught five fish, Qingyi caught four, Shutong forgot his gloves. He finally caught a big one, but his hand slipped, and the rod and fish ran off…”

He was about to stop, knowing few girls cared about fishing, especially quiet ones like Lu Qinglian, and was racking his brain for a new topic.

Unexpectedly, her voice carried a hint of curiosity:

“And then?”

Du Kang brightened:

“We went home when it got dark. By the way, do you like crucian carp? I could bring you one sometime?”

“No thanks. I meant what happened after the slip.”

“Oh, that’s interesting too. Shutong got all worked up, insisted on going back to get the tent. We didn’t persuade him. If it hadn’t been for the snow the last few days and cold nights, he wouldn’t have finished even half his homework…”

Lu Qinglian nodded silently.

So that was the story.

She lowered her gaze, seeing the cracked wound on her palm.

That must have happened this Monday.

She and the boy named Zhang Shutong had been assigned to move books.

The textbooks were bundled in stacks with plastic straps.

When she picked them up, the straps cut her hand, and she dropped the pile.

The boy glanced back:

“How’d that happen?”

“Cold.”

“No gloves at home?”

“Wool ones. Too much trouble when shoveling snow.”

“Oh.”

He picked up the pile, and the conversation ended.

After school that afternoon, someone came to the desk.

It was the same boy, not looking at anyone, speaking casually while staring out the window:

“Here, take these.”

He handed over a pair of flashy gloves.

He added seriously:

“But don’t forget to return them in a couple of days. I need them for fishing.”

Since the start of school, their conversations had been just a few words.

Lu Qinglian snapped out of her memories just as Du Kang puzzled:

“Where’s his homework? Doesn’t he usually keep it in the bag’s compartment? Oh, I saw him carrying a bunch of stuff to the bookshelf after class. Wait here, I’ll check.”

The outcome was smooth. Du Kang carefully pulled out a blue workbook—mostly to avoid touching the Lego castle on the shelf.

Then he smiled with relief and handed the “Five Three” workbook to Lu Qinglian.

“Thanks for your trouble.”

“No problem.”

Watching the girl leave, Du Kang grinned foolishly.

Helping his best friend avoid class duty and chatting with Lu Qinglian—couldn’t get better than that.

Besides, there was an even more exciting event coming up—

Next class would be seat rearrangement, according to the plan he and Shutong had made...

Thinking of this, Du Kang left the classroom and found his friend near the restroom, patting him heartily on the shoulder:

“Bro, no need to thank me!”