Winter Returns

Chapter 135 Xiao Lu and Xiao Zhang
Lu Qinglian's learning experience is very simple.

She stood quietly on the podium. The applause that had been pouring in from below immediately fell silent when the girl extended three slender fingers. The crowd silently observed her with curiosity, adopting an attentive listening posture.

"First, listen attentively in class."

Lu Qinglian's clear voice wasn't very loud, but it carried throughout every corner of the classroom.

Second, complete the assignment.

Two fingers were retracted, still in the order from the middle finger to the little finger.

Third, take good notes.

Then it was gone.

Logically, she should have said a few more words to make a good impression on the new teacher, but if Lu Qinglian did that, she wouldn't be Lu Qinglian. Before the students below the stage could understand what was happening, she lightly tossed her long hair and returned to her seat with a very graceful movement.

Then the applause started a beat late.

Zhang Shutong glanced at Teacher Xu's face and found that she wasn't angry at all; instead, she forced a smile.

Lu Qinglian has a special target for middle-aged and elderly women.

Zhang Shutong reached this conclusion.

That said, the new teachers have changed how they address each other. Old Song used to call them Qinglian and Shutong, but perhaps because Teacher Xu is older, she is used to calling them Xiaolu and Xiao Zhang.

So, once Xiao Zhang comes down the path, it's his turn to have a headache.

Actually, he could understand Lu Qinglian quite well. The so-called sharing of experience was mostly just going through the motions. There were no secrets. Even a teacher who had been teaching for four years couldn't do it. How could he expect someone to understand it in just one sentence?
Moreover, Lu Qinglian said all the polite things without considering what the next person would say.

Zhang Shutong scanned the students below the stage. As the former second-ranked student in the grade, he still retained his authority. He habitually held up three fingers, but when he realized that it was imitating Lu Qinglian, he put them back.

"I just want to share one point: pay attention to the balance between work and rest."

He finished speaking in a serious tone, and then calmly stepped down from the stage under the astonished gazes of the crowd.

Sure enough, Teacher Xu frowned.

But that's exactly what Zhang Shutong wanted: to make a bad impression so he wouldn't be called on stage every day to share this or that, which would be too much trouble.

This concludes the experience sharing session.

As expected of a seasoned teacher, Teacher Xu has formed a new study group with four members, and Lu Qinglian is the group leader of their group.

Zhang Shutong then realized that although their class was ordered by grades, the seating arrangement was quite strategic. There was a row of students with good grades and a row of students with poor grades, which were interspersed and resembled rice planting.

No wonder he was in the third row; the students in front of him and behind him all needed their "tutoring."

Teacher Xu gave them a few more instructions and asked them to continue their morning reading.

As soon as she stepped out of the classroom, the surroundings fell silent for a moment, then instantly became lively again.

"I told you, Abbess Miejue, you're in for a rough time."

"Holy crap, what era are we living in? Who calls themselves 'Extinction Master' these days? Dude, you're so out of touch."

Listening to these discussions, Zhang Shutong couldn't immediately tell whether "I'm dizzy" or "Extinction Master" was more backward.

He wanted to ask Lu Qinglian how things were going with the matter from four years ago, but now was not the right time to discuss it.

The newly formed study group was quite effective. There was a boy and a girl in front of Zhang Shutong. As soon as the homeroom teacher left, the boy in front of her took out his test paper and turned around, and the girl did the same. Of course, one was there for Lu Qinglian, and the other was there for Zhang Shutong.

"Lu, I'd like to ask you a question about this big question at the end of the recent monthly exam..."

"Zhang Shutong, I used to be in Class 2. Feng Ruoping and I are still friends. I'll be so grateful for your help..."

"You can ask Zhang Shutong."

"You should ask Lu Qinglian for help instead."

They both spoke at the same time.

There was an awkward silence for a moment.

Looking at the other groups, they were all having lively discussions. They said they were exchanging ideas and learning from each other, but in reality, everyone was just using the guise of learning to get to know each other. The novelty of changing classes would take a long time to wear off.

"Uh..." The man and woman both ran into a wall, exchanged a glance, and turned away dejectedly.

"You're the team leader," Zhang Shutong whispered a reminder.

“You are second.” Lu Qinglian said without changing her expression.

"My second place ranking is a bit questionable."

"I do not deny."

Wait, shouldn't you say something in response?

“You haven’t done your homework for a week,” Lu Qinglian said casually.

“It really does seem so…” This is indeed a bit scary, Zhang Shutong said. “Then why did you make him ask me? I’m not sure I can understand it.”

"I can still tell the difference between asking a question and striking up a conversation."

It turns out it was to prevent being approached by strangers.

"Why don't you just tilt your head and ask him, 'So-and-so, do you like me?'" Zhang Shutong couldn't help but tease, as he had been speechless by this kind of question many times before.

“Like right now, I’m striking up a conversation,” Lu Qinglian said calmly, then asked, puzzled, “Zhang Shutong, so do you like me?”

Zhang Shutong was speechless for a moment.

How's your foot?

"Fortunately."

"Your socks and shoes are at my house."

"What do you want to say?"

"My mom washed it, I'll bring it to you tomorrow?"

"You'd better not be so enthusiastic." She said this, her face turning cold. "I'll get it myself."

The conversation between the two came to an end.

The first class soon began.

math.

The math teacher started by explaining a difficult problem, which Zhang Shutong didn't find too hard to understand, but it wasn't easy either.

While listening to the lecture, he would occasionally observe Lu Qinglian.

To sum up this new deskmate in one sentence, he's very quiet, almost like he doesn't exist.

The time he and Gu Qiumian sat at the same table was no more than four days at most.

Zhang Shutong had just gotten used to the faint fragrance on her when it disappeared.

He's sitting by the window now; he's been a bit lazy these past few days, eating too many snacks, and his mouth feels empty. But the person next to him doesn't have any snacks in their bag.

He somewhat understood why Gu Qiumian liked to draw funny faces; with such a large glass panel here, it would be a bit uncomfortable not to touch it.

He would sometimes look out the window. There was a concrete area at the school gate with several parking spaces marked on it. He used to be able to see a red Ford Focus there.

Zhang Shutong shook his head, trying to refocus on his studies.

Fortunately, he quickly regained his focus. He understood the questions the teacher was explaining and listened for a while longer. He felt that the teacher was emphasizing points that were easy to make mistakes, so he took out his textbook to review the previous content.

Although he is fairly intelligent, it still takes him some effort to digest four years' worth of junior high school knowledge in one go.

Moreover, the content in the textbook is relatively basic, and it is easy to encounter situations where you understand it but just can't do it. Every time he reviewed a section, he would find the corresponding questions in the "53" textbook and tackle a few questions as if he were overcoming obstacles, but in the end, he still got stuck.

So, while the math teacher was letting everyone discuss freely, Zhang Shutong asked the group leader for help:

How do you do this?

Lu Qinglian raised her eyes, seemingly annoyed that someone was disturbing her, but she still picked up her pen and drew a line on the workbook:
"These are auxiliary lines."

"Understood. Thank you."

Zhang Shutong continued his battle with mathematics. Mathematics was just as challenging as a clay figure; he found algebra problems manageable, but geometry often left him momentarily slow to react.

"And this one?"

"so."

"What about this?"

Go see the answer for yourself.

"Is there another way to solve this problem?"

"Don't twirl the pen."

"Feel sorry."

He made the most of his time, but only managed to ask three or four questions. There was no way around it; many questions involved a lot of calculations, and he didn't have the confidence to "not bother with the solution if he had a solution in mind." Now, even various calculations were like "rehabilitation."

As the memories in his mind gradually returned, Zhang Shutong's thoughts became clearer and clearer. As long as he didn't cause trouble, the teacher wouldn't take the initiative to manage him. So, during a class, apart from listening to the lecture for the first third, he spent the rest of the time figuring things out on his own. He spent more time listening to Lu Qinglian explain the problems than the teacher did.

The new homeroom teacher is indeed a seasoned veteran.

This study group is actually quite useful.

The bell rang quickly, and the noise filled his ears, but Zhang Shutong did not move. He finished the last problem at his seat and let out a breath.

He has a good idea of ​​how to review. There's no need to make a mistake notebook now because everything is too unfamiliar. He'll do it when he's more familiar with it.

He put down his pen and saw that Lu Qinglian was also doing her homework.

She was actually working on past exam questions.

It wasn't math, it was English.

One lesson equals one sheet.

No wonder she didn't look up the whole class. All the learning tips she shared during morning reading were fake. Zhang Shutong neither noticed that she was paying attention in class nor that she was taking notes. Even her homework was questionable.

Lu Qinglian quickly finished writing the last line of letters. She found the answer, took a red pen from her pencil case, and began to correct it herself.

The pencil case and ballpoint pens were quite old, probably the type where only the refills were replaced, not the pens themselves. The skin on her fingers wasn't particularly delicate either, with several cracks from the cold. Zhang Shutong subconsciously tried to recall Lu Qinglian's middle school entrance exam scores, but found that she didn't remember them.

Lu Qinglian asked questions while correcting the papers:

"what's up?"

"You can ask me if you don't understand anything in English."

She paused, glanced at Zhang Shutong, and politely declined:
"Thank you."

The subtext is, you're terrible.

Zhang Shutong couldn't explain why he was weak in other subjects; in fact, his English proficiency might be slightly higher than Lao Song's.

But if it's not necessary, then it's not necessary. The first break between classes arrived, and Zhang Shutong was about to go outside for a stroll when the new homeroom teacher came into the classroom again, saying that she was selecting class officers.

The homeroom teacher didn't practice democracy; he just started calling on students.

The class monitor is the former class monitor of Class 2, and the academic representative is Lu Qinglian.

Only when it came to less important positions, such as sports committee member, life committee member, or labor committee member, since she wasn't familiar with the students, would she ask everyone to volunteer, with whoever wanted to be the position giving a speech and then holding a simple vote.

Taking advantage of the chaos in the classroom, Zhang Shutong asked Qinglian for directions:
Are you free?

"What is it now?" she sighed. "Please just say it."

"How did things go with that matter you asked about four years ago?"

"It snowed four years ago too." Lu Qinglian lowered her gaze to her textbook, looking like a good student, but said something completely out of character.

Snow……

Zhang Shutong recalled that he had indeed heard Lao Song mention this matter before.

After the Cold Blood Line was retraced, a sudden heavy snowfall occurred. On the way to the police station, he looked at the snow scene outside the window and muttered to himself. Old Song casually remarked that this was nothing compared to the snow four years ago, which was much heavier.

But Zhang Shutong had not yet moved to the island at that time and had little memory of the snow.

He roughly understood what Lu Qinglian meant: the snow four years ago had frozen the "snake" that the temple keeper used to gather information, so it didn't discover the appearance of the clay figure in time like it did this Wednesday.

So, the clay figure from four years ago, from its appearance to its disappearance, truly happened silently, without even the temple keeper noticing.

However, Lu Qinglian was only in the fifth grade of elementary school four years ago, so even if Zhang Shutong had discovered it, he wouldn't have known how to solve it.

What about your grandmother's attitude?

"Her attention was indeed a little distracted."

Zhang Shutong waited for what would happen next, only to find that Lu Qinglian had already turned a page in her textbook; she was actually memorizing vocabulary.

"I have a question too," she asked after a long pause, "How can you be sure that thing has really disappeared?"

"Do you remember the notebook I told you about? Professor Song has been driving around the island looking for it all these years, but he didn't find anything for a few years in between. It must have disappeared. I spoke to him on the phone yesterday, trying to ask him for some more details, but he didn't remember it himself. He said I might as well go back and look through the notebook."

Lu Qinglian finally put down her textbook:
So you're actually unsure?

"I was too pressed for time and didn't read the notes carefully."

"Is that notebook still in the dorm?"

"Ah."

"Where's the key?"

"You want to go there?"

Lu Qinglian did not deny it:
How it appeared is not important, but how it disappeared is.

"Your grandmother has no clue either?"

Some things only exist in word of mouth.

Zhang Shutong understood.

There are two problems now.

How did clay figurines come about?
And how was it "resolved" four years ago?

It seems no one can answer this question.

As the person involved, Lao Song was already confused, and he is currently hospitalized outside the island.

The temple keeper had the ability, but the heavy snow prevented them from finding the mud figure.

In addition, there is another issue that both of them deliberately avoid mentioning.

Who exactly is that fake Lu Qinglian, and how did she appear?
This matter might be very important to Lu Qinglian, so she wanted to figure out the pattern of the clay figures' appearances.

For Zhang Shutong, at least a simple judgment can be made—

Gu Qiu Mian was rescued, but that doesn't mean the matter is truly resolved. If the purpose of killing her was to stop the development of the island, and the Green Snake Temple has no connection with the Mud Man, then who is the person who wants to stop this?
There are two goals.

The longer-term goal is to find out what I missed this week. First, it can be confirmed that I spent a week outside the island and was unable to meet Lu Qinglian during this time. Although we have met now and even become deskmates, it did not substantially advance anything.

A shorter target would be the notes in Lao Song's dormitory. By examining them word by word, we might discover other clues.

Of course, there's nothing we can do now; we can only wait until school is over.

"Noon or afternoon?" Lu Qinglian asked.

"We'll see how it goes. I probably won't have time at noon. The homeroom teacher is in a hurry to arrange class officers, which means there are other plans during lunch break. As for the evening," he sighed, "I'm under investigation right now, and my mom won't let me run around."

“Okay.” Lu Qinglian nodded.

"Shall we skip class together at noon?" Zhang Shutong suggested.

Just as Lu Qinglian was about to speak, the homeroom teacher suddenly coughed:
"Don't think I didn't see some students whispering to each other."

(End of this chapter)