Chapter 54: Disappearance

Why was Qi Jianguo here?

Standing in the doorway, Qi Ran felt all the blood in her body run cold. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as a monstrous roaring tinnitus raged in her ears. All that remained before her eyes was that filthy, squalid living room that had once belonged to her and Tao Xiao.

A ghastly pale flash of lightning suddenly illuminated the dim evening sky outside the window, followed by a low, rumbling boom. The thunderclap seemed to crash heavily upon her Mind Lake, washing away all previous thoughts, plans, and cautious calculations with brutal efficiency. Her mind became a complete blank. The purest fear, having taken physical form, wormed its way into her Mind Lake from all directions like a festering, bone-deep cancer… She stood motionless, the last shred of strength to even move a finger gone.

The man before her could only be Qi Jianguo. It couldn’t be an imposter or someone in disguise. She knew Qi Jianguo’s mannerisms and subtle expressions far too well; even the best actor couldn’t replicate them so accurately.

But—why was Qi Jianguo here? Had he broken out of prison? How was that possible? Should she call the police? But as an Insider, shouldn’t he have been imprisoned by the Executors? Did that mean, like Li Wanying, he had accomplices who helped him escape? Where was his accomplice? In one of the rooms? What should she do? A myriad of explosive, chaotic questions erupted in her Mind Lake, surging like monstrous waves that howled, capsized, and swallowed every shred of her reasoning and calm.

She suddenly began to doubt everything Li Siwen had said earlier. That suspicion coiled around her heart like a cold, venomous snake… Was there a possibility that all the memories she had so firmly believed in were fake? Fabricated by that Lake Cutter called “Miss Ah Qiao”? That there had never been a Tao Xiao, never an imprisoned Qi Jianguo? That Qi Jianguo had always lived a normal life… Wouldn’t that make more sense? After all, how could such an exceptional person ever willingly marry a man like this?

—Li Siwen was right. Tao Xiao’s existence was merely a tool the Lake Cutter used to gain her trust. Nothing more.

Her lips quivered slightly. She wanted to refute this utterly unacceptable suspicion, but all the air was blocked in her throat. She couldn’t utter a single word.

Noticing the sound of the door opening, the man turned his head. Seeing the trembling Qi Ran, he seemed momentarily slow to react, taking another drag of his cigarette.

It was only after he exhaled that cloud of white smoke that he finally stood up. Perhaps from sitting too long, his first few steps were unsteady and stumbling. After managing to regain his balance, he walked up to Qi Ran. Accompanied by the choking reek of smoke came a resounding, sharp slap.

“Learned to skip class, have you? Got bold enough to stay out all night and mess around with other guys? When did I ever teach you to do this…”

“Screw you!”

Before he could finish, Jiang Zhique’s furious voice—and a chair she’d grabbed—slammed into his head with full force. The solid blow sent him staggering and sprawling, unable to get up for a long while. She stood protectively in front of Qi Ran like an enraged lioness. “Try touching her again. Just try it.”

Due to the immense shock and explosive anger, the hand holding the wooden chair trembled slightly. Although she’d already learned what kind of scum Qi Ran’s father, Qi Jianguo, truly was, seeing it with her own eyes was still horrifying—could this desolate, filthy place really be called a “home”?

“You little…” Qi Jianguo finally seemed to recover from the blow, reaching up to clutch his now-bleeding nose. “Who the hell are you? I’m disciplining my own kid, it’s none of your damn business! You think I won’t report you to the school and get you little bastards expelled—”

Jiang Zhique wasted no breath on words. She just lifted the wooden chair again and rammed one of its legs forcefully into Qi Jianguo’s mouth. With a vicious twist, the man’s tirade came to an abrupt halt. The immense pain exploding from his nerves made him roll on the floor like a curled-up shrimp, clutching his mouth as stomach acid and teeth, smeared with bloody threads, slipped through his fingers and onto the floorboards.

Jiang Zhique stepped back, avoiding the filth.

“What the hell are you trying to do? Push me too far and I’ll call the Executors! We’ll all go down together!” The man roared from the floor, his face contorted in agony.

Jiang Zhique’s expression went cold. She released the wooden chair, pushed up her long sleeve slightly to reveal the black snake markings on her arm, but ultimately forcefully suppressed her killing intent. She glanced back at Qi Ran, who was now sitting on the floor behind her, and pulled her sleeve back down.

She could tell Qi Ran was clearly in no state to answer questions right now, so she didn’t ask. She could always come back later to kill this Xie family scum. Thinking again, as if remembering something, she picked up the already-falling-apart wooden chair from the floor once more. Seeing this action, the man’s screaming halted, shifting instead to pleading. He lay on the floor, his tears and snot smeared into a messy paste, looking like some harmless, albeit disgusting, victim.

Jiang Zhique’s movements didn’t pause for a second. She raised the wooden chair high and smashed it down onto the man’s knee. A miserable howl and the crack of splintering wood sounded simultaneously—this wasn’t for torture or venting anger, just to prevent him from running. Removing mobility was always necessary.

After the man passed out from the pain, her phone rang. She answered the call, hearing Li Siwen’s voice. His question was concise: “What’s the situation?”

“I’m fine. Only Qi Jianguo was in the room. It should just be a false alarm,” Jiang Zhique said, keeping her voice low.

Li Siwen didn’t inquire about Qi Jianguo’s condition. He only asked, “What about Qi Ran?”

“She’s… uninjured, probably.”

Jiang Zhique hesitated. That was all she could say. Turning her gaze back to the girl slumped on the floor, even a cursory glance revealed something profoundly wrong. It was as if Qi Jianguo’s slap had knocked the soul right out of her. She sat sideways on the floor, her body curled up, trembling uncontrollably. Deep within her pupils was an empty, hollow void. Like a puppet.

“Is that so?” Li Siwen pondered for a moment. “From now on, make sure she’s never left alone. Also—turn off the bug. Best to find an enclosed space, like… a car, or any place that offers a sense of safety. In short, absolutely do not leave her alone. She might say she wants to be by herself. Refuse her outright. Understood?”

“Okay.”

Jiang Zhique replied, her heart jolting slightly. The implication in Li Siwen’s words made it sound like Qi Ran might try to commit suicide at any moment—but why? Just because she saw Qi Jianguo? She couldn’t understand it, but Li Siwen had already hung up.

“Can you stand?” She looked at the girl on the floor, extending her hand and speaking softly. “Let’s go back to the car.”

Qi Ran seemed not to hear her at all. Left with no choice, Jiang Zhique tried to lift her. Once she had Qi Ran in her arms, she couldn’t help but be startled. Qi Ran’s body was so thin, so terrifyingly light, even lighter than she had imagined. Hidden beneath that loose school uniform jacket, the girl was so gaunt her bones were jarringly sharp. It felt like a gust of wind could blow her away.

Leaving from the stairwell exit, they faced a sudden, ferocious downpour. She opened the passenger door and placed the girl inside before moving to the driver’s seat. Once the doors and windows were shut, only the constant drumming of torrential rain thrashing against the roof remained inside the car.

“Cold?” she asked. But Qi Ran still seemed to hear nothing, her gaze diffused and staring blankly ahead.

Helpless, she reached out and touched the girl’s hand, finding the fingers alarmingly ice-cold.

She started the car. Warm air gushed from the vents, gradually dispelling the uncomfortable chill of icy rainwater seeping into their clothes.

The rainstorm continued, overwhelming and all-consuming. Jiang Zhique sat in the driver’s seat, not trying to break the silence. She suddenly felt the world was incredibly, impossibly quiet. Outside the car windows, the lines of rain had practically dissolved into a vast expanse of white—shattered raindrops. As Jiang Zhique stared at it, a strange feeling welled up from the depths of her heart: a feeling that this storm had come specifically for them… and all they could do was sit in the car, with no way to escape.

This strange feeling came as quickly as it vanished.

“Water?”

She suddenly heard Qi Ran, sitting in the passenger seat, speak. Her voice was somewhat hoarse. Jiang Zhique handed her the water bottle from the center console. Qi Ran took it, had a sip, and placed it back. Then she pulled out her phone and seemed to search through the photo album, but her expression grew more and more disappointed. Jiang Zhique glanced at the phone. It was a photograph—a picture of what looked like Qi Ran in middle school, standing alone at the middle school gates. But oddly, the angle of the photo was strange, pulled far back—as if there should have been someone else in the picture originally. A group photo.