Winter Returns

Chapter 2 Winter Returns
The backtracking was triggered.

Filled with profound astonishment, the entire world before my eyes seemed to tremble as if it were a black and white photograph.

Consciousness went blank, as if it had flown out of the body.

This is a phenomenon that occurs during "backtracking".

Zhang Shutong was all too familiar with this. When consciousness returned, although his body had not regained sensation, his mind went blank for a moment, and an alarm bell rang instantly.

Someone wants to kill me!

He didn't even have time to think about the reasons for the time travel; the points where time jumps are often very close together, let alone a sudden attack.

Was it a few seconds ago? Or a few minutes ago?

Will they return to the restricted waters, or will they be on their way there, or will someone be watching them right there in the hotel?
He tried to calm his breathing and quickly thought of a solution.

We must save ourselves first.

He mentally rehearsed the next scene, even having different contingency plans. Finally regaining consciousness, he took a deep breath, his hands and feet moving instinctively, then he abruptly opened his eyes—

but……

Where is this?

The world before my eyes did not match any of the answers I had imagined; that dark winter night was long gone.
It felt like I was in a classroom.

A series of unfamiliar scenes came into view:
Directly in front of me was a blackboard; out of the corner of my eye, I could see children in school uniforms; in front of them were desks painted black, with open workbooks on them…

The surroundings were quiet, with only the scratching sound of the pen tip gliding across the paper.

Nothing could be connected to the attack... no, rather, to the current situation.

Looking further down, even these hands no longer seemed to belong to her; they were smaller and paler, and she was still holding a pen.

But the faint white mark on the tiger's mouth looked familiar; it was a scar left from childhood.

A certain guess suddenly welled up in my chest.

Zhang Shutong turned her head in disbelief, her gaze finally settling on the electronic calendar at the back of the classroom.

The red pixels indicate the current time:

Wednesday, November 2012, 12.

I... I've actually traveled back eight years!
……

It was probably a few minutes, or maybe longer. He didn't keep track of the exact time, but perhaps after his heart had pounded hundreds of times, Zhang Shutong slowly exhaled and confirmed the fact before him.

He's really back.

Unlike rebirth, this time it was through the ability to rewind that eight years were traversed in one go.

He also figured out the exact time; he had just counted on his fingers several times to confirm that it was the first semester of the fourth year of junior high.

It's not that he's bad at math; it's just that the years he's lived have made him almost lose track of time.

When a specific year is mentioned, one can only vaguely recall what was done, such as being in junior high school, but it takes a lot of thought to remember which grade it was.

And the current situation:
This was probably a self-study period, so everyone around was quietly doing their homework.

My deskmate was a bit unfamiliar, and I couldn't remember his name. He wasn't the type to cause trouble, and when faced with unexpected situations, he preferred to think things through on his own first.

The most familiar thing was the workbook lying in front of him. He flipped through it a couple of times. It was in English, with a blue cover, and it said "Five Years of Middle School Entrance Exams and Three Years of Simulations." He couldn't forget it even if he wanted to.

Turning my head to look outside again, I could see the ground outside the teaching building through the iron-framed windows;

Eight years ago today, it probably snowed. The red one is the plastic track, surrounded by a ring of white snow.

It was really not a good day; the clouds were low, the light was dim, and all the lights in the classroom were on—that was the only thing that was similar to eight years later.

But this brings with it even more questions:
Why does backtracking occur?

Why eight years ago?
Who wants to kill me?

There is something even more concerning than all of this, perhaps even greater than one's own death—

Does the ability to "go back" still exist?

It's the first semester of my fourth year of junior high school now, and that accident happened during the summer vacation after the high school entrance exam.

With a subtle excitement, he recalled a famous paradox:

If a person travels through time and kills his grandfather who is still unmarried and childless, would he be able to succeed?

Zhang Shutong didn't care whether his grandfather was dead or not; what mattered was that he was back, which meant—

If I never go to that temple again and avoid that accident in the future, I will have a normal life.

A normal life, the possibility of starting over...

This was a thought that had been buried in my heart for many years, but which I had never dared to hope for, but at this moment it became a reality.

He tried to purse his lips, but the smile on his face couldn't be suppressed and gradually widened. He buried his face in his arms, trying not to make a sound, but his body trembled slightly.

He imagined that sixteen-year-old Zhang Shutong would dash out of the classroom, rush to the rooftop, and release her boundless joy in the place closest to the sky.
But at twenty-four, all he wanted to do was sit quietly in his seat, savoring the excitement of the moment and recalling his own face at sixteen.

Although there was no mirror at hand, he could still recall what he looked like back then: a head of perpetually unruly hair, still somewhat immature facial features, a straight nose and clear lip lines, and eyes that were always bright and spirited.

I used to think there were countless possibilities for the future. Although many years have passed and I've found that I've been moving in one direction all along, I've ultimately returned to the starting point, haven't I?

He then remembered a passage, but forgot its source:
"A man, when he was thirteen or fourteen, found a real gun in the summer. Because of his youthful ignorance, he pulled the trigger. No one died or was injured, and he thought he had fired a blank. Later, when he was thirty or older, he was walking down the street and heard a faint sound of wind behind him. He stopped, turned around, and a bullet hit him right between the eyebrows."

A bullet from eight years ago struck him squarely between the eyebrows.

Zhang Shutong was sincerely grateful for the bullet.

Once I calmed myself down and looked up again, everything in front of me seemed lovely.

Oversized school uniform jackets are a symbol of youth; a clear pool of water lies in the center of the snow-covered playground; even the practice books (like the "53" practice book) spread out on the desks...

Okay, he glanced at it twice and realized it still wasn't cute.

Zhang Shutong has experienced quite a lot, so after the initial excitement, he quickly calmed down.

Although I long to enjoy this second chance at life without any worries, there are still some things I need to figure out.

For example, what exactly happened with this strange regression?

After thinking for a moment, he had a pretty good idea.

He knows that he has been killed.

The trigger condition is, "Something bad happened around me".

He always thought that his abilities were not applicable to him.

Now it seems that perhaps it was just not enough.

Injury, feeling down... psychological or physiological problems are far from meeting the criteria; only one's own death can trigger regression.

Thinking about this, Zhang Shutong didn't know what to say.

I'm truly sorry that you haven't died all these years and I haven't discovered any other use for me.

The second problem is then easily solved:

Each time time jump occurs, it returns to a critical point before the incident.

He explained that his cause of death dates back eight years.

I still have some phantom pain in the back of my neck. The other person's attack was precise and ruthless, basically aimed straight at me.

But the time gap is too great, and even if one wants to do something, all that's left is confusion.

Today is December 5th. He died eight years later on December 12th. To be precise, he went back eight years and eight days.

This date was something he couldn't help but be sensitive to.

"It's been circulating for a long time. Now it's not a question of whether you know it or not, it's about which version you believe..."

The conversation from just a few hours ago still echoed in my ears, and a very outrageous guess surfaced in my mind—

Could they have been silenced?

Zhang Shutong had mixed feelings. He disliked making hasty, impulsive deductions, but if he took Du Kang's words seriously, everything suddenly made sense.

Let's assume the murderer killed the missing girl eight years ago;

Eight years later, for some reason, he attacked Lu Qinglian again;

Then, the other party believed several outrageous rumors, such as providing information about the murderer, which were spread by a group of people as if they were true, and eventually they targeted him.

It seems that only in this way can one explain why he returned to the point eight years ago before the case occurred.

He tore off a piece of scrap paper, first wrote his own name, then Lu Qinglian, and finally the name of the murdered girl. He thought for a moment and realized that her name seemed to be Gu Qiumian.

He also drew some symbols as an aid to clarify his thoughts; only he could understand them, like a suspect relationship diagram when solving a case.

The three names, when put together, form a triangle. Zhang Shutong stared at the triangle for a long time, thinking to himself that he had died unjustly.

As we all know, a triangle is the most stable structure, so stable that one of them is bound to die; three people are like grasshoppers on the same rope.

However, at least the outcome was good; he was given a second chance at life and had the opportunity to prevent two murders.

Thinking of this, he subconsciously began to search for the two figures.

Lu Qinglian couldn't be found. There was an empty seat in the classroom; perhaps she had gone out.

They found another pretty girl named Gu Qiumian sitting by the window. She had medium-length hair, an oval face, and was wearing a thick scarf.
Her school uniform was draped over the back of a chair. She was wearing a beige plaid sweater, which wasn't particularly flashy, but on her, it looked so sophisticated that it stood out from her surroundings.

So much so that Zhang Shutong couldn't tell whether she was cold or not.

If you're cold, you should put on your coat. If you're not cold, why are you wearing a scarf?

Zhang Shutong couldn't remember what she looked like anymore. The reason she was so easily spotted was not only because she was beautiful, but also because she was so conspicuous.

While everyone else was studying, she idly breathed on the glass, her fingertips flying out a bunch of messy lines. Anyway, when she finished drawing, Zhang Shutong couldn't figure out what it was—a ghost face?

It seems like she's the only one in the whole classroom not doing anything productive... maybe we should add myself to that, just the two of them.

Staring at that grotesque face, I recalled even more things.

Just as a girl's beautiful appearance and her subordinates' funny faces are not in the same style, Gu Qiu Mian was never in the same style as her classmates.

Qiu Mian, as the name suggests, means continuous autumn rain, but I have never been a sentimental person. On the contrary, I am more like the freezing rain at the turn of spring and winter.

When she's in a good mood, she's fine, but if anyone offends her, they'll be drenched in the icy rain.

Zhang Shutong knew that the term "young lady" was somewhat distant from the reality of this remote island, but in fact, she was.

Gu Qiumian's father was a wealthy businessman, one of the first people to get rich after the reform and opening up.

Gu's father's businesses were extensive, not to mention all over the country, they were at least well-known within the province;
He originally developed his career in the neighboring provincial capital, but perhaps due to the loneliness of achieving success, he took a liking to this small island, which he saw as having the potential to become a 5A-level scenic spot, and prepared to start from scratch.

When Zhang Shutong was in school, he heard that the resorts and shopping malls to be built on the island were probably all Gu's father's doing.

Traces left by Gu's father can even be seen on campus:

If you go to the administration building, you will find the most eye-catching thing in the long corridor: huge photo frames of "distinguished alumni".

Although her father never attended school here, since he donated the only plastic track in the school, that's fine.

If you go to the library—which is unusual for a school of their size—there's a string of gilded characters next to the grand entrance that reads, "Sincere thanks to Mr. Gu Jianhong for his donation."

The library was thus named "Jianhong Library".

If we had enough students, there would probably be another "Jianhong Building".

And because my precious daughter goes to school here, I probably didn't want to be too conspicuous, so I regretfully didn't see a "Jianhong statue" at the school gate.

As for meeting Gu Qiumian herself, it was on her first day at the new school.

That day, Zhang Shutong rode his newly bought bicycle past the students walking by and saw a black car blocking the school gate.

Then the car door opened, and two round-toed leather boots peeked out. A girl got out, wearing a red and black plaid skirt, and proudly tossed her hair, with pendants dangling from the ends bouncing around.

When he was a child, he didn't know anything about cars, he only knew that the car had a high-end paint job. Of course, he still doesn't know now. His past experiences have basically made him give up his driver's license, but he does know that the car with four rings is called an Audi.

He followed Gu Qiumian into the same classroom;
The girl first scanned the classmates around her with a scrutinizing gaze, then asked him who the class monitor was.

He calmly replied that he didn't know either. The other person probably felt that he was disrespecting her, so she stopped taking things out of her bag and glared at him with her bright, beautiful eyes.

Then Zhang Shutong learned that they were both transfer students, and that they had transferred schools on the same day;

That day, Miss Gu brought a whole backpack full of chocolates, intending to use them to catch "Pokémon".

That's right, everyone in her class is a Pokémon in her eyes.

The chocolates were eventually sent out, but unfortunately, they didn't go very well. In the end, she didn't fit into any of the circles and was met with a cold shoulder.

Gu Qiumian thus embarked on a brand new campus life, and it was clear that she was quite unhappy about it.

Zhang Shutong most fondly remembers the McDonald's in the city, while Miss Gu has never gotten along well with her Pokémon friends.

Actually, no one ostracized her at first. It was mainly because the students on the island had never seen such a proud girl before, so they were a little timid and self-conscious and didn't know how to get along with her.

But soon, things took a turn for the better:

One day, a few girls finally mustered up the courage to bring her a bag of gold coin chocolates to share.

She glanced at it, said "Oh," and casually replied, "No need. This is made with cocoa butter substitute, the taste is terrible, I never eat it. But if you want some, I can bring you some better quality."

The atmosphere froze, leaving the girls utterly ashamed and their self-esteem shattered. This was not only because they had been rejected, but also because they had no idea what the "cocoa butter substitute" the other person was talking about was.

For girls of that age, if they crave some "dessert," gold coin chocolates are the most cost-effective choice; you can get a big bag for just over ten yuan at a small supermarket.

Their monthly allowance is only worth a few bags.

Zhang Shutong initially thought it was a story about a rich young lady looking down on people from small towns, but to his surprise, Gu Qiumian actually brought over a bag of Godiva the next day—a Belgian brand. Zhang Shutong didn't recognize it at the time, but he had bought it once when he was chasing after a senior in high school. A box cost several hundred yuan, and he was heartbroken.

Just like the children on the island are used to chocolate made with cocoa butter substitutes;
Miss Gu probably thought it was too silly to bring a gift box to school, so she got into the habit of putting her chocolates worth several hundred yuan in a white plastic bag.
Then she smiled nonchalantly, as if yesterday's embarrassment had never existed, and said:

You should all try this, it's delicious. My dad buys it for me all the time.

No one answered, treating her like she wasn't there; her outstretched hand just stood there, frozen.

Looking back now, I realize I was somewhat spoiled and didn't know how to get along with people, but more than that, I was clumsy.

The matter is not over yet:
Miss Gu couldn't stand this insult. That day after school, it was Zhang Shutong's turn to be on duty. Just as he was about to finish his work, a girl suddenly barged in through the front door, startling him.

The girl, with red eyes and clenched fists, approached him, tossed out a white plastic bag, and asked if he wanted some chocolate.

He hesitated for a moment—this sentence didn't mean whether he wanted to eat or not;
Instead, it was the ringleader among the girls who had a conflict with her, unfortunately named Feng Ruoping, who was a member of their clique.
Zhang Shutong was never one to prioritize romance over friendship, especially since Ruoping had thrown a tantrum in front of them the night before. Therefore, after hesitating for a few seconds, he resolutely refused.

Then the whole bag of chocolates was thrown into the trash can. Gu Qiumian walked out without looking back. Zhang Shutong naturally wouldn't do something as shameful as picking them up and taking them home to eat, but he felt it was a waste to throw them away. The matter ended up being handed over to the homeroom teacher.

But after this incident, they became sworn enemies, though it was a one-sided feud.

Perhaps in Gu Qiumian's eyes, "traitors" are more hateful than "enemies";

Although Zhang Shutong never understood how he became a traitor, or rather, why she was considered to be on the same side.

Perhaps it's because we both transferred from schools in the city?
Thinking about it this way, compared to other classmates, she did talk to me more often.

But I didn't realize it at all back then. Rather than being oblivious, it's more accurate to say that my mind wasn't on such things at all.

My favorite after-school activity is fishing, and my favorite in-class activity is figuring out how to catch a bigger fish.

This has led to Zhang Shutong being surprised by how, over the years, when talking about his childhood self—he still has some social interactions, such as having chatted with Du Kang a few hours ago—he often comes across as aloof and cold in the eyes of others.

Cold and aloof, is that true?
During his student days, apart from the two years when he was in the worst state, he doesn't remember ever giving anyone the cold shoulder. It was just that sometimes he wasn't interested in the topic and felt there was nothing to say, so he would keep quiet.

In short, that's how it is. Back then, he didn't think he was particularly aloof, so he didn't take Gu Qiumian's "traitor" seriously, but there was no need for him to fawn over her.

Then something else happened, and the two had an even more serious conflict. I don't remember the specific reason, but it made me really angry back then, and we never spoke to each other again after that.

And when the anger has almost subsided;
Then she was killed.

In the end, Gu Qiumian never made any decent friends.

As Zhang Shutong was pondering this with a touch of melancholy, a girl wearing glasses walked onto the podium.

She cleared her throat:
"Don't forget to change seats during breaks. Those who haven't tidied up yet, hurry up."

(End of this chapter)