Цветы персика

Глава 15

"It's nothing," I said casually.

"No, you cried. Your eyes are all red. Did that kid bully you?"

"No."

"I'm going to settle the score with him!" she jumped up, but I stopped her.

"No, he's an honest man."

"Really?" Apple looked suspicious, her eyes searching for clues on my face like a mine detector.

"He's a bit slow... but he's a good person."

"Tsk tsk tsk! This silly boy is lucky. You've given him quite a high evaluation!" Apple chuckled mischievously.

“Don’t overthink it. There’s nothing going on,” I said, staring intently at her. “I won’t like him.”

Apple paused, then said, "One day you will forget the great forest. I hope you forget him..." Her voice trailed off, tinged with melancholy.

"Why?"

I want you to be happy.

Section 38: Case Tracking (7)

I smiled faintly: "I'm quite happy with you around."

“That’s different.” Her gaze seemed to pierce through me, as if she could see another life form. “Knowing it’s a quagmire, you still stubbornly sink into it. That’s the kind of person you are!”

"But a scar doesn't heal so easily."

"Would you rather the wound fester and spread, infecting your heart, spleen, and lungs to the point of being incurable, or would you rather fill in the scar and let a callus form? Once the callus falls off, it will be a healthy piece of flesh again, and you will gradually forget where the pain once was."

"Even after the cocoon falls off, the marks remain." I'm stubborn too.

"You're so stupid."

I still smiled faintly. Sometimes I really wish I could be as carefree as an apple, but the pain in my heart can't be erased like an eraser...

midnight.

The dormitory was quiet. I slept on the top bunk, and Apple was on the bottom bunk opposite me. My nose felt cool, with a misty, icy mist inside—a coolness that kept me awake. Gradually, the coolness spread from my nose to my cheeks and earlobes; the coolness continued to spread, reaching the back of my head…

My consciousness was becoming increasingly clear. Suddenly opening my eyes, a lump formed in my throat, startling me so much that my fingers tore the sheets. Thankfully, I didn't scream, and I didn't startle Apple.

He's here.

Shi Quan stared straight at me, his pale face pressed against the edge of my bed, his nose level with the bed frame, only half of his head and his eyes with a faint blue light showing.

What are you doing?

"Wait for you."

"wait for me?"

"You saw my sister?" His hoarse voice boomed like a broken gong.

"Wait for me in the stairwell, we'll talk outside." I lowered my voice and quietly climbed down the stairs.

Only the old, wide-brimmed chandelier cast a dim, yellowish light in the stairwell, casting a strange effect on Shi's body. His form seemed translucent, like a phantom bubble, appearing and disappearing intermittently.

"Your sister has something to tell you."

“I know what she wanted to say: that she ran away not because she was afraid of dying, but to deliver a message,” he said bitterly, his teeth chattering.

"You still resent her?"

"Stop talking nonsense! Who avenged me? Who avenged me? Where is he? The person who should have been executed seven years ago is still at large!" It is said that ghosts with grudges undergo a drastic change in temperament after death, becoming very different from their lives. He is probably a prime example.

"Your sister and father have tried everything, but they still haven't found the murderer. Do you have any ideas?"

He paced back and forth restlessly, but to me it wasn't walking, it was floating, like a floating object without Earth's gravity, scattered like air.

"I need to find a way?" He frantically grabbed his hair, his hands still feeling like air, the edges of his shadow coming together again. "I know the guy whose wife just gave birth; he was the guy I played against at the same card table the day before the incident. I don't know the other one; I've never even seen him."

"So you mean one principal offender and one accomplice?"

"What accomplice? What do you mean by accomplice?" he roared at me, his throat throbbing with the muffled sound of a wound, like an angry lion. "They strangled me! They both strangled me! They're both murderers! Both of them! Neither of them can escape!"

He was very agitated. I moved closer to the wall and asked in a low voice, "So, do you have any way to find the murderer? You said last time that the killer had returned to this city... How did you know that?"

“I know…” His solemn face changed, his eyes turning from blue to bloodshot. “He killed me to get money for his newborn son’s milk powder…” His throat tightened, his voice hoarse and painful. “Heh…” he sneered. “He and the other man who killed me only took two thousand in cash… two thousand… just for two thousand, they strangled me to death…” He clutched his own neck, still immersed in the pain of that moment, unable to pull himself out of it.

"Don't do this..." I felt scared.

"They...they can't get away with this! They have to pay with their lives! Pay with their lives!" he screamed hysterically. "Tell my sister to have my dad hand out flyers! Hand them out as many as possible, hand them out like crazy! Anyone with even the slightest clue about the murder case from seven years ago will get a 10,000 yuan reward!"

"Your father spent the first few years trying to get people to hand out flyers like this, but no one actually provided any leads."

"That's in the past, let him do it again now!"

"He squandered his fortune on you, and now he only has enough savings for his retirement. He's sold all his businesses, and he has nothing left to squander..."

"Let him go! His money was originally mine. I'm his only son. What use is it to him now that I'm dead?" The light and darkness of humanity can shift in an instant. Shi Mei once said that her brother was an honest and kind man, gentle in nature, and never argued with anyone. But now… hatred can distort everything!

Section 39: Case Investigation (8)

“I can pass on a message to your sister… but how can you be so sure that the murderer wasn’t found seven years ago, but can be found now?”

“I know that person is back. But you can’t go directly to him. The police won’t believe you. They’ll interrogate you about how you got the clues. You say you’re a psychic? Who’s going to believe you? You should ask my dad to send people to distribute flyers everywhere! The person who killed me will come looking for my dad.”

How did you know?

“I know!” he sneered, his twisted expression turning ashen. “That man’s son was in a car accident, and he needs money.”

With a loud "bang!"

The door next to me opened.

"Oh my god! You scared me to death! What are you doing standing here in the middle of the night?" The girl next door ran towards the bathroom, pulling up her pants.

I was also shocked and broke out in a cold sweat.

When I turned around again, he was gone.

It was Friday afternoon again, on the tenth floor of the school, in the lecture hall at the west corner.

I was listless in class, my brows furrowed.

Apple, lying next to me, asked, "What's wrong? You look like the White-Haired Girl, with a miserable expression?"

I'm in a dilemma. Even if I want to help the wrongfully killed person get justice, wouldn't it be taking advantage of someone in distress to exploit their vulnerability?

I couldn't figure it out. Reading was boring, so I randomly flipped through a few pages when my eye caught sight of a suspicious-looking Jeep. He was late, his head hidden behind his large backpack, and someone else was lurking behind him as he walked up the stairs towards me.

What's he up to now? I can't be bothered with him.

I propped my face up with my right hand, avoiding his gaze. The teacher below was passionately lecturing on Marxist theory, drooling profusely. The apple wilted and dozed off. The jeep had already slipped to the back row.

"Lan!"

A seemingly unrelated book, "Sports Science," was suddenly slung over my shoulder, passed from behind. Passing notes in class? That's an old trick from years ago; do people still use it now?

Suddenly it came to my senses: who in the class would call me "Lan"?

Something's fishy!

After taking the bulky book of *Sports Science*, I turned around sharply and immediately spotted Mo Yan. I opened my mouth in surprise, bit my lip, and said nothing. He was the man the jeep had sneakily brought over earlier! Opening the book, I found a small note inside: "The small skating rink at the East Gate is open tonight, want to go skating?"

I wrote on the back of the note: "You're still up to your old tricks and dare to cause trouble in our class?"

The second time the book was delivered, it came with a different note: "Sorry, I'm early. Our class is scheduled for the next period in this shared classroom."

I chuckled to myself: Even his lies are poorly constructed! Today is Friday, and this is the last class of the afternoon; there's no next class coming up.

The note came again: I was wrong, I wanted to come and see you.

My mind was a jumbled mess, and just then—

"You, the tallest one in the row wearing blue shirts, no need to look any further. Please answer a question about Marxist theory..."

The teacher asked a question. He pointed behind me to a tall man in a blue shirt, "Isn't that Mo Yan?"

Mo Yan looked around helplessly, stood up, and slunk away with his head down, his eyes constantly glancing at the jeep—a plea for help.

The jeep was stunned and frantically flipped through the book to find the question.

Unfortunately, it was too late to save him; he passed away.

"Uh...that...um...#￥%..." He mumbled something in a whisper, so soft it was like a mosquito's hum, and no one could understand him.

"What were you doing just now? Why were you fidgeting instead of listening to the lesson? That's outrageous!" the teacher exclaimed indignantly.

University professors are different from middle school or elementary school teachers. Normally, they would just touch on a question and leave it at that. If you couldn't answer it, they would smooth things over by answering it themselves, and then ask you to sit down, which was considered polite. Unfortunately, Mo Yan was unlucky today, encountering a rigid and stubborn political teacher, which made him lose face and put him in an awkward situation.

Apple glanced back and immediately realized it was Jeep who was behind it all. But there was no saving the prey that had run into the line of fire, so she could only pretend she hadn't seen anything, turn her head back and continue dozing off.

However, I knew that the invisible kick under the table had already launched its attack, and the Jeep's face contorted into an exaggerated, grimacing expression as if it had been scalded by boiling water...

library.

Footsteps echoed on the silver-gray marble.

I turned around.

The girl in high heels made a face at me, then immediately took off her shoes and ran after me barefoot.

I laughed: "Apple, I never thought a tomboy like you would wear high heels."

She stuck her tongue out at me, her smile widening. "You're one to talk! If it weren't for that damn jeep, I wouldn't have bothered with all this. I don't know which ancestor invented this thing; it's so dangerous, you lose your balance and fall flat on your face. Sigh..." She frowned, looking troubled. "Damn it, what can I do? I'm so small."

Section 40: Case Investigation (9)

“That’s not right. You were this tall when he met you, he knew that all along. He likes you, not your height!” I gently pinched her nose. “You’re great in every way, except you’re insecure about your height. Apple, your personality is your most powerful weapon, more valuable than any wealth. Don’t make things difficult for yourself because of your appearance. People who truly like you won’t care about your height.”

"Hehe!" she stuck out her tongue again, "So I took off my shoes, it feels so comfortable!"

Be careful not to catch a cold!

"No way, it'll be hot for another month before it cools down. You haven't seen how everyone living on the top floor of the girls' dormitory is covered in heat rash. I don't know what's wrong with the weather this year, it's so hot it feels like it's baking you—damn it! God must have gone mad."

Fourth floor.

As I walked past the women's restroom on the fourth floor, my gaze lingered on that door, and time seemed to rewind for a moment.

Here, in that moment of encountering the ghost, the great forest cradled my trembling, curled-up body, carrying me away from the dark and cold landscape. When I awoke, I was greeted by a clear blue sky, a vast expanse of clouds, and gentle sunlight streaming down. Everywhere I looked was green grass, carrying the fresh scent of dew…

He was smiling at me. That smile was like Gregory Peck's in *Roman Holiday*—perfectly gentlemanly, polite, and refreshing…