chapter 15

“Go ahead and take it.” Tan Song closed his eyes and leaned back, pretending to rest.

He really did have some leads on the case from back then.

He just wasn’t sure whether he should tell Qiu Rongrong.

Qiu Rongrong glanced at him. Seeing he had no intention of continuing, she stood, phone in hand, and stepped out into the hallway outside the infirmary. She found a quiet spot and answered.

Inside the ward, after she left, Tan Song carefully pulled a pocket watch from his pocket, his expression heavy with grief.

He flipped it open. Inside was a photo of the three of them-once a happy family.

Now everything had changed.

That case back then hadn’t destroyed only Qiu Rongrong’s home. It had destroyed his, too.

He was heartbroken.

Qiu Rongrong was even more heartbroken.

They were both shackled to the past. Without a clean, final ending, there was no way for either of them to step into a new life.

A warm breeze drifted through the corridor. Looking down from the second-floor window, Qiu Rongrong could see a small patch of banyan trees.

Banyans stayed green year-round. Once planted, they grew like crazy, but the wood was useless-standing, it couldn’t be made into furniture; lying down, it wasn’t even good firewood. Because the timber quality was poor, they were left as ornamental trees, spared from axes and saws.

They symbolized peace and safety.

What a pity.

What a pity.

A beautiful wish, ending in nothing.

Qiu Rongrong rested her forearms on the windowsill, gaze fixed on the banyan grove, and connected the call.

“Hello, Brother.”

On the other end, Zhou Jingxing’s voice was grave. “Something happened. Come back.”

“Right now?” Qiu Rongrong’s right eyelid twitched. She still had an elective class this afternoon.

She’d missed too many classes lately. She was short on credits.

“Mm.” Zhou Jingxing acknowledged. It sounded like other people were with him-he was busy. He hung up quickly.

Qiu Rongrong checked the schedule in her phone’s notes.

Luckily, the elective started at 3:20 p.m. If she moved fast at noon and hurried back, she should still make it.

After hanging up, she rushed back into the infirmary and said to Tan Song, “I have an emergency. I need to go home first. If you feel unwell on your side, call the doctor yourself.”

“No.” Tan Song reached out, trying to stop her.

But he was injured. The moment his hand landed on her forearm, her turning motion yanked him-he nearly got dragged off the bed.

“Careful!” Qiu Rongrong quickly steadied him and helped him back into place. “Your hand has a fracture. You can’t move it around.”

Tan Song didn’t care about himself. Frowning, he asked, “If you go home now, is someone coming to pick you up?”

Qiu Rongrong shook her head. “No.”

“Then I’ll take you.” As he spoke, he started to sit up.

“No need.” Qiu Rongrong felt he’d just slow her down, but she couldn’t say it outright. “The most important thing for you right now is to rest.”

Just then, the school doctor walked in. Seeing the scene, he scolded, “Student, your arm was just fixed in place. You can’t move it!”

Tan Song ignored him and said to Qiu Rongrong in a tone that brooked no argument, “You and your counselor just helped me to the infirmary. A lot of students saw it.

“This has definitely already gotten to Xu Zhao. He won’t let you off.

“It’s not safe for you to go back alone. Either get someone to pick you up, or I’ll take you.”

Qiu Rongrong’s expression stayed flat. “If he really blocks me, adding you doesn’t change anything. I’m still not a match for his group.”

After the kidnapping two days ago, she’d ordered pepper spray online-marketed as dog repellent-and kept it on her. If she caught them off guard, dealing with one or two people long enough to escape shouldn’t be a problem.

“I can help draw their fire.” Tan Song knew this trouble had come because of him, and he looked a little embarrassed. “I can take a beating better than you.”

Qiu Rongrong lifted her gaze to him.

She knew he was worried about her.

“I run faster than you.” Her voice softened as she reassured him. “And in crowded places, they won’t dare act that wild.”

At that, Tan Song stopped trying to persuade her. He only told her again and again to be extremely careful on the way back, and not to take secluded alleys alone.
Qiu Rongrong agreed. She waited by the school gate’s security post, called a rideshare, and the moment the car arrived, she slipped quickly into the back seat.

As the vehicle pulled away, Qiu Rongrong looked out through the window and saw Xu Zhao and his little clique standing in a narrow alley not far from the guard station.

A handful of delinquent boys clustered together, cigarettes between their fingers, glaring viciously in the direction in which her car disappeared.

A storm was coming.

Qiu Rongrong was grateful she hadn’t stepped outside to hail a car-otherwise she would’ve inevitably gotten tangled up with them.

The villa district was secure. Non-resident vehicles weren’t allowed in, and outside visitors had to contact a homeowner and register with security.

Once inside the complex, Qiu Rongrong headed toward home.

She realized the occupancy rate here was low. Many of the villas sat empty, and she could hardly run into any other residents. If she didn’t occasionally see a few property staff tending the public greenery, she might’ve suspected her family were the only ones living here.

The development was so new; Uncle Zhou’s family had probably only moved in recently.

When she got home, Qiu Rongrong braced herself on the shoe cabinet, kicked off her sneakers, and changed into slippers.

Zhou Jingxing was sitting on the sofa, a stack of documents spread across the coffee table in front of him. His shirt collar was slightly loosened, and several pages in the middle were marked with sticky tabs.

“Brother,” Qiu Rongrong said as she came closer, unease in her voice. “Why did you suddenly call me back? Did something happen?”

She sat down beside him, her knees nearly brushing the edge of the coffee table.

Zhou Jingxing’s long fingers were interlaced over his knee. His brows were drawn tight, his expression heavy. “Rongrong… the case was withdrawn.”

“What?!” Qiu Rongrong shot upright, disbelief crashing over her.

Zhou Jingxing lifted his gaze. A dark glint flickered in his eyes. “Your psychologist wasn’t dismembered. He’s still alive.”

Qiu Rongrong froze, lips parting. The shock in her eyes slowly turned into blank confusion. “B-But last time they already did a DNA test… and the bloodstains…”

“There were only bloodstains. The police never found the sack you mentioned.” Zhou Jingxing pulled a document from the stack and handed it to her. “This is your psychologist’s proof of going abroad, and photos of him living overseas.”

Qiu Rongrong lowered her head to read, her face growing paler by the second.

“He personally called the police to withdraw the report, saying he’s studying abroad and won’t be back in the short term.” Zhou Jingxing kept his tone as gentle as he could. “And he also submitted your psychiatric evaluation to the Guixu City police.”

On the diagnosis section of the file, it clearly listed: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Paranoid Delusional Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Panic Disorder.

Among them, Paranoid Delusional Disorder was also known as persecutory delusion.

What did that mean?

Were they trying to say that everything she’d reported-murder, dismemberment, kidnapping-was just her persecutory delusions?

“These…” She bit her lip, forcing down the tremor in her throat. “I did have those. But that was three years ago. I completed treatment. I’m better now!”

“I believe you.” Zhou Jingxing held her hand, trying to soothe her. His gaze softened even more than before, but what he said next landed like a muffled hammer blow. “But this report is enough for them to classify you as someone with limited civil capacity.

The community has already stepped in. If a guardian isn’t appointed, you might be sent to a psychiatric hospital.”

A psychiatric hospital.

Once that label was stuck on her, no one would ever believe anything she said again.

“But on what grounds…” Qiu Rongrong sprang to her feet so abruptly her knee slammed into the coffee table with a grating crack.

A dull pain shot up from her knee, yet she barely felt it. “I can do everything right now. My life is normal. I can go to school. I can speak, I can think-so why is it that just because they say I’m crazy, I have to be locked up?”