Chapter 4

Jiang Xuzhou’s eyes shifted slightly, but he said nothing.

The director handed him a file bag. It contained only a few pages, yet within them lay the outline of a person’s entire life.

The weight of the paper seemed heavier than its size, and Jiang’s gaze lingered on the section listing honors. The awards were not numerous, but each carried significant importance.

“Xiao Jiang, listen to your aunt*’s advice. Forget it. Stop investigating”

    ( * 阿姨 (āyí) is a respectful term for an older woman, often used like “Auntie.")

She herself was conflicted. She wanted to know the truth behind Shen Xi’s death, but she feared for Jiang Xuzhou’s safety if he continued to pursue the matter. If the case had been easy to solve, the police would not have struggled with it for so many years.

Every possible clue had been uncovered, but in the end, they all led to dead ends. Everyone had tried their best.

“Aunt Shen, don’t worry. I know what I’m doing,” Jiang Xuzhou replied. He did not answer her directly, but his tone made his meaning clear. The director sighed helplessly.

Shen Xi had grown up in the welfare home and had once been Jiang Xuzhou’s classmate in Junior High. Perhaps “classmate” was not the best word—he had been Jiang Xuzhou’s rival.

In school, their scores were nearly identical, whether in monthly exams or competitions. Unlike the reserved Jiang Xuzhou, Shen Xi was like a small sun, always smiling and warmly received by everyone.

During the Junior High Entrance Exams, Shen Xi ranked first in the Early Admission Test and was accepted into Jinghai No. 1 Middle School.

But on the day the admitted students boarded the school bus to report, Shen Xi vanished.

The bus itself disappeared as well. Thirty students, along with teachers and the driver, were gone.

Eight years ago, the disappearance of the 8•25 school bus* caused a nationwide sensation.

 ( *TL: 8・25校车失踪案: The “August 25 school bus disappearance case.” )

Despite an extensive search, the police found only the bodies of the teacher and driver. The bus and the thirty students remained missing.

No living witnesses, no corpses to bury. The investigation yielded nothing, as though they had vanished from the world entirely.

Time passed, but there was no progress. The case remained open, yet stagnant.

A year ago, Jiang Xuzhou’s USB drive broke, and some manuscript photos could only be retrieved from his old email account. While searching through messages he had not opened in years, he discovered one email buried among them.

It had been sent eight years ago.

From Shen Xi.

If not for a sudden high fever, Jiang Xuzhou’s grades would have secured him a place among the students approved in advance.

The night he discovered the email, Jiang dreamed of returning to his junior high school campus. In the dream, he saw Shen Xi. Perhaps because so much time had passed, he could no longer recall Shen Xi’s exact features. The face was blurred, only a vague outline, yet Jiang Xuzhou knew instinctively who it was.

As he tried to move closer, the indistinct figure suddenly transformed, its face covered in blood. Shen Xi was asking for help.

In the dream, Shen Xi pleaded with Jiang Xuzhou to save him, appealing to their bond as former classmates. Jiang Xuzhou woke abruptly, shaken, unable to distinguish dream from reality.

After regaining his composure, Jiang Xuzhou began searching online for public information about the 8•25 school bus disappearance. The deeper he read, the more unsettled he became. He realized how narrowly he had escaped becoming one of the missing students himself.

His breathing grew heavier as he studied the documents in his hands. Suddenly, his attention was caught by a sentence in his notebook. Something flickered in his mind, but before he could grasp it, his phone rang. The sound shattered his concentration, scattering the thought before it could take shape.

Jiang Xuzhou took a deep breath and steadied himself. The call was from Ruan Mingxi.

“Are you at home now, or at school?” Ruan Mingxi asked directly.

Jiang Xuzhou frowned. “Did something happen?”

“I’m at Jinghai No. 1 Middle School. Can you come?” Ruan Mingxi avoided answering his question.

Jiang Xuzhou’s heart sank. The night before, while they were eating, Ruan Mingxi had mentioned visiting schools to check for missing students. If he was now calling from Jinghai No. 1 Middle School, he must have found something.

“Alright, I’ll come immediately,” Jiang Xuzhou replied.

“Are you driving? Be careful on the road. Don’t speed if your skills aren’t good,” Ruan Mingxi reminded him.

Jiang Xuzhou choked back a retort. His driving was not as polished as Ruan Mingxi’s, but it was far from incompetent. Still, because Ruan Mingxi had once seen him stall, he had been branded a road hazard in his friend’s eyes.

Jinghai No. 1 Middle School was only half an hour’s drive from the welfare home. When Jiang Xuzhou arrived, only one parking space remained at the gate, requiring side parking. He maneuvered carefully, adjusting the car’s position bit by bit. Just as he lowered the window to check the distance, someone knocked.

“Get out. I’ll do it,” Ruan said, wearing an expression that clearly read, I knew you couldn’t manage it. 

Jiang Xuzhou: "...."

He switched seats, and Ruan Mingxi parked the car smoothly in seven seconds.

Jiang Xuzhou: "...."

As Ruan Mingxi got out of the car, Jiang Xuzhou could clearly see the word "smug" on his face.

“Your driving skills are impressive,” Ruan Mingxi said with a grin, resting his elbow on Jiang Xuzhou’s shoulder. His tone carried a teasing edge.

Jiang Xuzhou shot him a look. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you tiptoeing to look taller than me.”

Ruan Mingxi’s smile froze. “I am taller than you.”

“No, we’re the same height,” Jiang Xuzhou countered.

“It’s written on the medical report. I’m 186.4, you’re 186.2,” Ruan Mingxi insisted, determined to defend his 0.2 centimeters.

Jiang Xuzhou’s eyes glimmered with amusement, though his face remained composed. “Your socks add 0.2 centimeters.”

Ruan Mingxi laughed. "Jiang Xuzhou, even a stubborn dead duck would have to admit defeat when it meets your mouth*”

( 你这嘴死鸭子: Literally “your mouth is like a dead duck” — a Chinese idiom meaning someone is extremely stubborn and won’t admit they’re wrong. Ruan Mingxi saying his mouth is so unyielding that even a “dead duck” (a metaphor for stubborn silence) would have to surrender to him.)

Jiang Xuzhou raised his brows. “That’s polite enough.”

Their banter eased the tension, and for a moment, Ruan Mingxi’s nerves relaxed.

When Jiang Xuzhou arrived at the principal’s office, the moment the door opened he saw the principal and the teaching director frowning, their expressions heavy with concern.

Ying Shi, watching from the side, felt puzzled. Just moments ago, Ruan Mingxi had said he was going out to pick someone up, and Ying Shi assumed it would be a colleague from the bureau.

Yet the person standing before them was clearly not from their bureau. Why had Ruan Mingxi called him here? And why did this man look so familiar, as though Ying Shi had seen him somewhere before?

“Xuzhou, why are you here?” the teaching director asked in surprise. “Are you working as a police officer now?”

Jiang Xuzhou glanced briefly at Ruan Mingxi.

Ruan Mingxi immediately understood and spoke first. “He is a consultant invited by our bureau.”

The teaching director nodded, satisfied with the explanation. “I see.”

In a corner where no one was paying attention, Ying Shi raised his eyebrows slightly. A new consultant in the bureau? Why had he, the deputy team leader, not heard about this?