Chapter 8: An Unexpected Reunion
The high-speed train from Shanghai to Wuhu only took three hours. Gan Qi had taken a window seat, and the entire carriage was full. A middle-aged man sitting diagonally across kept casting furtive glances at her, making her shudder with discomfort. The space suddenly felt suffocating.
She was reminded of the time back at the café, also placed by Xue at a window seat where she couldn't leave. In fact, after leaving the café, she had once attempted an escape into the chaos of the main road, and was swiftly intercepted by three men in black hiding in the crowd. Those were the same three who later stormed into Qingxiang's Apartment. She couldn't think of them without recalling their absurd conversation with Qingxiang's very first humanoid robot. The memory made her chuckle despite her unease—it was one of the few happy fragments she had left with Qingxiang. That gleaming smile of his under the sunlight… she would never forget it.
The old man across from her stared again. Gan Qi stopped smiling, hugged her backpack tightly to her chest, and lowered her head. She couldn't help but admire the fearless girl she used to be ten years ago—boarding a grimy train alone for Shanghai, completely unbothered by stares or dirt. Had she not met Qingxiang, who knew what she might have become? A drug addict? A promiscuous person? A fallen socialite?
Qingxiang was her savior. Though they didn't talk much, his mere presence gave her peace. As long as he was around, she didn't care about the world's judgment, nor did she envy the halo of "Madam Lu." Just seeing him every day was enough.
She never imagined she'd one day have to leave home alone again. But this time, everything had changed. Lu Qingxiang was no longer that scrappy boy no one gave a second glance. And she—she was still the same naïve girl, clueless and fearful, convinced that the world was full of predators like Xue, each with their own agenda. She didn't dare close her eyes for even a second during the ride.
When the train finally reached Wuhu, she dashed out in small, anxious steps. Her hometown had transformed—towering buildings, fast-paced transportation, booming businesses. The world had moved on without her.
Her old family home had long been sold off by her well-to-do aunt for a pittance. She had been living in a self-built villa near the riverbank at the village entrance, far from others. To show off her wealth, the aunt had spared no expense on the finest materials and the most extravagant decor. Now, it had become the scene of a grisly murder.
Gan Qi dared not go directly to the villa. She didn't want to deal with nosy neighbors and their endless questions. She decided to head to the police station first. A police officer informed her that due to the villa's remote location—surrounded by weeds and a small river—there were no nearby witnesses. The killer had fled and was still at large. Her aunt's body had been discovered three days after the incident by Granny Fang, who had come looking to play mahjong. By then, the corpse was already stiff and swollen. The autopsy was complete, and the body now lay in the city hospital morgue, awaiting family identification.
Gan Qi left the station trembling, her mind in a fog. She stumbled straight into someone's chest.
"I'm so sorry! I'm really sorry!" she apologized repeatedly.
"It's okay. Are you alright?" A warm, gentle baritone responded.
She looked up, dazed. A tall, slender man with fair skin had reached out to steady her. His face looked oddly familiar. She didn't dwell on it—thanked him, and continued walking. But the man suddenly ran ahead, stopping in her path.
"Gan Qi!" he called out.
She froze, her thoughts snapping back. She stared carefully at him—thick brows, refined eyes, a high nose bridge, chiseled cheeks, and thin lips curved into a broad smile. His appearance was nothing like Lu Qingxiang's, yet equally striking.
"Yang Xing!" she finally recognized him.
They hugged tightly, both stunned by fate's arrangement. From being neighbors born days apart, witnessing the upheaval of her family, to watching her move in with an unkind aunt, they had been inseparable desk mates throughout primary and middle school. She had always followed Yang Xing around like a shadow. He was her confidant, her safe harbor.
But at fifteen, after graduating middle school, Yang Xing's wealthy parents—disapproving of Gan Qi's broken family—took him abroad and severed all contact. That year, after losing her parents, Gan Qi had cried harder than she ever had before. Since then, home had lost all meaning. No parents. No Yang Xing.
Fourteen years later, she had become a graceful 29-year-old woman. And he, now a striking young man, stood before her once again. Her heart stirred despite everything.
Yang Xing had only returned to China six months ago. Due to his change of nationality, he often visited the police station for paperwork, where he became friends with Officer Hai—the same one who had just received Gan Qi. Upon learning about Gan Qi's aunt's death, Yang Xing immediately vowed to help her through the investigation and the aftermath, with Hai's support.
They made their way through the crowded hospital, past wails, groans, and chaos. Together, they took the elevator to the top floor. Everything turned eerily quiet, as though time itself had frozen. At the entrance, the illuminated sign glowed with the word "Morgue."
Gan Qi shivered, hugging herself as she shrank her neck. Yang Xing gently patted her back, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder as they walked forward together.
At the door, Gan Qi paused, took a deep breath, and pushed it open.
On the central bed lay a middle-aged woman. Her body had turned a purplish red, eyes and mouth slightly open, a deep ligature mark etched into her neck. Her palms were bloodied, torn by the forceful tug of a handbag strap. Her hair was disheveled, face contorted in pain. Could this wretched corpse truly be her fiery, sharp-tongued aunt?
Gan Qi covered her mouth in disbelief. Officer Hai had said her aunt had fought back fiercely—shattered glass was found all over the scene—but her body bore no cuts, implying the killer was likely injured. In desperation, he had grabbed a power cord and strangled her to death. No matter what, Gan Qi only wanted justice. The murderer had to be caught.
As they left the hospital, Gan Qi's heart felt heavier than ever. She wanted to cry, but no tears came—only a numbing fear lingered. Yang Xing remained silent the whole time, but the warmth of his hand on her shoulder never wavered. She was grateful beyond words. Too much had happened too quickly. She hadn't even had a chance to say thank you.
She was just thankful he appeared—right when she needed him most.