“Okay, everyone’s here, and the whiteboard is ready for you. Let’s re-examine everything from the very beginning,” Liu Xu said, handing a whiteboard marker to Qi Ran. “Go ahead, Teacher Qi.”
Qi Ran reached out and pressed her slightly throbbing temple, saying in a low voice, “…What exactly are you thinking?”
“What else could it be but pooling collective wisdom?” Liu Xu spread his hands. “Or are you saying there’s someone here who shouldn’t be hearing what we’re about to say?”
“Don’t pull that routine. You know I don’t fall for moral blackmail,” Qi Ran said, her brows tightly furrowed. “Why drag Xu Yan into this too? Although her father is aware of the Circle, he’s still an Ordinary Citizen. Xu Yan is also protected by law—”
This was different from her original plan. She and Liu Xu were supposed to meet Xu Yan once, have a cheerful chat, and make plans for the next outing. Xu Yan would go back to her schooling, and she and Liu Xu would return to the places they originally belonged. Xu Yan’s life was clean. Her father, though somewhat aware of the Circle, wasn’t a full-fledged Executor—she was “clean.” Her and Liu Xu’s existence in her life would simply be a case of falling in with the wrong crowd.
“She’s an Ordinary Citizen,” Qi Ran’s voice was suppressed. “If she gets involved, regardless of whether she has a Syndrome, she’ll be counted as part of the Circle. That will only harm her.”
“Who said she’s interacting with patients?” Liu Xu snapped his fingers. “Think flexibly. We’re not some small clique within the Circle. We’re a proper, legitimate study group. Nobody decreed that patients can’t go to school or get tutoring, right? We gather together solely to study, and Xu Yan is the tutor we invited. Makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? If anyone gets ideas about us, wouldn’t they be getting ideas about our entire study group? That would also endanger her personal safety as a citizen, wouldn’t it? We could just call the police directly. Isn’t that how it works?”
“Huh?” Xu Yan was momentarily stunned. Still quite dazed, she nodded subconsciously. “Right, I can call the police. I’ll just call my dad directly.”
“Then that’s settled,” Liu Xu clapped her hands and looked at Hyena and the others sitting on the floor. “Everyone, I’m guessing none of you finished high school, so the name is easy too. Let’s call it the Adult Cultivation Study Group.”
Hyena opened his mouth slightly, a bit displeased, but found it was actually true. The only person in this room still attending school seemed to be that girl called Xu Yan.
“We passed the high school entrance exam,” Dry Wood said, his voice somewhat dark. “Our scores were just stolen by someone else.”
“Don’t worry about the details,” Liu Xu said, not minding in the slightest, waving his hand dismissively. “Just like Qi Ran is only temporarily on leave from school, the result is the same: now we can only take the adult college entrance exam.”
Qi Ran’s words momentarily caught in her throat. She suddenly realized Liu Xu’s approach was genuinely brilliant. In this way, they became fundamentally distinct from entities like Xie Liusheng—groups that slightly crossed the line and could have their water meters checked by Executors at any time. Yes, they were just a study group. They gathered together only for the sake of learning. Going out to some remote mountains and forests… was merely to relieve academic pressure, have a group outing, and relax a bit. That was all.
Besides, they were all of school-age anyway. This reason couldn’t be more fitting.
“Qi Ran, your expression right now looks even more like her father than her actual father does,” Liu Xu sighed, patting Qi Ran’s shoulder. “Qi Ran, Xu Yan is your friend, not your daughter. Do you really think you’re more mature than her? By age, we all have to call her ‘Elder Sister.’ She was born in January.”
Qi Ran’s frown deepened. She didn’t like this comparison; it sounded like she was becoming more and more like Qi Jianguo. Her thoughts halted abruptly, and a slight chill ran through her Mind Lake—in these matters, she was acting just like Qi Jianguo: excessively secretive, refusing to communicate with those close, refusing to accept new potential companions, convinced she could handle everything on her own… Yet in reality, that only made a mess of everything.
“A single tree cannot make a forest, Qi Ran,” Liu Xu said quietly, extending his fingers so the index finger of his left hand hooked onto the index finger of his right. “Unity, and trust. If even those maniacs understand this principle, we have no reason not to.”
“Ahem, sorry to interrupt, but I have to cut in on your touching dialogue about friendship and bonds,” Parrot said hesitantly. Perhaps because of what Liu Xu had just said, she actually raised her hand like she was in class. “I understand the need for a debrief and intelligence sharing, but do we absolutely have to squeeze in here to talk?”
She couldn’t help but ask. The space in this rented apartment was simply too cramped. It was originally designed for one or two people, yet now it held over ten. Because there were truly no seats left, Paper Cutter, Dry Wood, Greasepaint, and Hyena—the four latecomers—had simply sat cross-legged on the floor.
Jiang Zhique looked somewhat bewildered. She had come as soon as she received Qi Ran’s message, but the problem was she hadn’t expected so many others to show up. Although no introductions had been made, she could roughly guess their identities. She had seen Greasepaint’s group of five at the Su Family Building. The two people, Liu Xu and Xu Yan, had been introduced by Qi Ran. And while she didn’t know the girl called Nan Qiang, she could guess she was a friend Liu Xu had met.
“Do you have a better suggestion?” Liu Xu reminded her. “Don’t forget, you lot are technically fugitives. Aside from short-term rentals in the Old City District, everywhere else requires an ID card to check in.”
Parrot paused. Liu Xu was right. She, along with Hyena and the others, had been “spit out” by the shattered building. Naturally, after being spat out, they wouldn’t obediently go back and turn themselves in. Therefore, in a sense, they were indeed fugitives. What puzzled Parrot, though, was that after a few days of being on edge, they hadn’t heard any news about patients being hunted down. It was as if the Pingjiang Execution Headquarters had tacitly let them, these patients, go.
Dry Wood guessed that the Executors likely had some messier trouble on their hands and simply couldn’t bother with small fry like them for the time being. Parrot thought his guess made sense and had thus managed to relax a little.
“There’s a simpler solution,” Jiang Zhique suddenly spoke up. Everyone’s gazes converged on her. “Just rent an empty warehouse. The average price here in Pingjiang is about 2.5 yuan per square meter. Generally, a small warehouse is around 300 square meters, meaning the daily rent would be about 750 yuan. So, a month would be around 23,000. We can make the warehouse our uh… study area.”
She awkwardly changed the wording to fit the “study group” narrative. Her skin was still a bit thin when it came to matters of face; she couldn’t, like Liu Xu or Qi Ran, shamelessly use the most serious tones to speak such absurd things.
“What about Li Siwen’s previous place?” Qi Ran thought of that construction site.
“The Bai Family already took it back. It originally belonged under Bai Sangzhu’s name,” Jiang Zhique shook her head. “But I should be able to contact Li Siwen’s old connections. We can rent one without needing ID.”
“Then the accommodation issue is solved too. We’ll just rent dormitories next to the warehouse,” Qi Ran said after a moment’s thought, then asked Liu Xu, “One more problem—how do we cover the expenses?”
“You forgot about the card Xie Liusheng gave you?” Liu Xu asked.
“We aren’t withdrawing from Xie Liusheng’s side?” Nan Qiang suddenly spoke up, her tone puzzled.
“Why would we withdraw?” Qi Ran paused briefly, then said airily, “I thought it over carefully. Liu Xu’s reasoning is very sound. Xie Liusheng’s place is work. We’re just attending a study group after getting off work. Isn’t that perfectly normal? We’re his allies, not his subordinates. By reason and logic, he has no right to interfere in our private hobbies. It makes perfect sense.”
Nan Qiang was momentarily stunned. She felt something was off but couldn’t quite articulate what.
“Truly, the student surpasses the master,” Liu Xu clicked his tongue. “But don’t worry about Xie Liusheng’s side. I’ve been in touch. They’re busy right now.”
“Busy with what?” Qi Ran was puzzled.
“He and He Ling should be at the Nine Hut Mountain police station by now,” Nan Qiang answered her question.
This name was certainly not unfamiliar to Qi Ran. Nine Hut Mountain—or rather, Ghost Mist Mountain—was the mountain from the forum, the one in Qi Jianguo’s video.
