Chapter 68: The Lemming Mystery
Xia Chun put down his chopsticks and silently looked at He Ming’an.
Between them, there was a long pause—no words exchanged.
“Brother Ming’an, are they your classmates?” The little boy, who was being led by He Ming’an, spoke up at that moment.
Xia Chun seemed to wake from a daze. He stood up as if suddenly remembering something. “I’ve already eaten. I’ll leave first.”
He didn’t know whether he was speaking to Gu Yang or to He Ming’an. In any case, after saying that, he walked away, his back looking like he was fleeing in a hurry.
“Already full? You really don’t have much of an appetite.” The boy glanced at the half-eaten dishes on the table and then looked up at Gu Yang. “Brother Yang, long time no see. Do you remember me? I’m He Tong.”
Gu Yang’s expression clearly showed no recognition. He Tong pouted. “I’m Ming’an’s cousin. Last year, Ming’an brought me to eat with you. You even patted my head.”
“Oh, yeah… I think that happened…” Gu Yang replied cooperatively, though he wasn’t sure he truly remembered.
“Ah Yang, didn’t expect to meet you here,” He Ming’an lightly interrupted the conversation, placing his hands on He Tong’s shoulders. “I just brought the kid out for a meal. What a coincidence.”
He Tong shut his mouth.
He looked at Gu Yang, noticing a subtle, indescribable expression on his face. Even though Gu Yang’s face showed no particular emotion, it reminded him of the girl in class who once accidentally broke a vase, her expression panicked and anxious.
He Ming’an stared at Gu Yang, his expression complex, and for a moment forgot what he wanted to say.
White hair aside, he was much older—how was it that he couldn’t get a simple sentence out properly?
“I suddenly don’t want to eat at this place anymore, Brother Ming’an. Let’s go somewhere else.” He Tong couldn’t help but speak.
“…Alright.” He Ming’an responded, feeling relieved. “Ah Yang, I haven’t had dinner yet. Will you stay and eat a bit more with me?”
Gu Yang said nothing, simply nodding.
He Tong walked ahead, giving space to the two behind him.
“How come you’re eating here? What about Xie Wu? Didn’t he say he would take you out to play?” He Ming’an asked in his usual calm tone.
Gu Yang recounted what had just happened.
He Ming’an listened quietly, not interrupting once. Only after Gu Yang finished did he arrange his expression into a faint smile and say, “I see.”
“You two really had bad luck, getting caught right on the spot. I wonder if Xiao Xie finished over there yet.” He joked lightly, referencing what Gu Yang had just told him, a smile on his face.
Gu Yang wanted to say more, but He Ming’an smoothly steered the conversation away. He could control the topic effortlessly if he wished.
During the rest of the meal and the ride home, the subject was never brought up again.
After Gu Yang got out of the car, He Tong couldn’t sit still in the back. Curiosity got the better of him, and he finally asked, “You don’t like that girl just now, do you?”
“Oh? Why would you think that?” He Ming’an teased, using a tone to play with the child.
“Don’t play coy,” He Tong retorted. “I not only know you don’t like her, I also know you don’t want to see Brother Yang hanging out with her.”
“Your hand on my shoulder was shaking!”
He Ming’an’s smile vanished.
The child’s words were blunt, and the driver in the front, sensing tension, glanced at the rearview mirror a few times.
He was an elder of the He family and knew a bit of the family history.
“Uncle Yang, focus on driving. It’s dark and visibility is poor; you should watch the road properly.”
He Ming’an’s reminder immediately brought the driver back to attention, and the atmosphere in the car dropped. He Tong sensed something was off but pressed on: “Why didn’t you just explain it to Brother Yang yourself? I even gave you space to handle it, Brother Ming’an.”
He Ming’an looked at the clever little kid with exasperation. “Explain what? Ah Yang already explained it to me—it was just a coincidence.”
“No, that’s not the point. What if they meet again in the future? You have to make it clear: you don’t like her, and Brother Yang shouldn’t hang out with her.”
He Ming’an froze at that. Clearly, the child’s logic was beyond his understanding, but soon he laughed, realizing this was just a kid’s way of thinking.
“I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t play these ‘you hang out with her, I won’t like you’ games.”
He Tong, sensitive to a slight jab at his childishness, retorted indignantly: “What does age have to do with it?”
“If you’re really close friends, then he should keep some distance from people I don’t like. In his heart, I should be special. Don’t I even get that privilege?”
“Special, huh.”
He Ming’an thought that kids were straightforward and honest. At the same time, he sighed inwardly, realizing that adults were just wearing a layer of social disguise.
But now seemed a bit late to bring this up.
“Brother Ming’an, do you like Brother Yang?” He Tong asked unexpectedly.
The car swerved slightly, surprising drivers in the next lane to honk instinctively.
He Ming’an, startled, quickly regained his composure and smiled: “You’re still so young, talking about love?”
He Tong, frustrated with his cousin’s endless evasiveness, drew out the “Ohhh” sound and teased: “If you won’t say, fine. When I grow up, I’ll confess to Brother Yang myself.”
“Ah Yang is a boy, and you’re a boy too. What confession would you make? Do you even know what that means?” He Ming’an teased, still not realizing the gravity of the conversation.
The next second, He Tong’s calm voice struck:
“So what? I might just like boys!”
The words hit like a thunderclap. The driver nearly ran over the stop line at a red light, slamming the brakes to avoid penalty points. Both backseat passengers leaned forward instinctively.
“In our class, girls like this too. My deskmate secretly liked a girl and read these kinds of novels. To get her attention, he pulled me into it. I know all the tricks.”
He Ming’an: “……”
Enough. Right now, your task is to prepare for the next school transition.
He didn’t expect even his six-years-younger cousin to have a generation gap already and didn’t want to explore his mental world too deeply, so he let the topic drop.
At that moment, a message arrived on his phone.
No name, an unknown number.
“I won’t take anything from you, whether it’s your friends or anything else.”
He Ming’an stared at the message for a long while, then deleted it and added the number to his blacklist.
Meanwhile, Xia Chun had just finished showering. After sending a message, his phone stayed on the table, untouched.
He wasn’t sure if the message was meant to reassure himself or to prove something.
Seeing He Ming’an brought back the same restless, fearful feeling he had before.
Was it cowardice? Or guilt?
The sound of a door opening reached him. The door was gently closed behind someone.
Xia Chun didn’t look up. “Why didn’t you go to work today?”
A woman in her early forties entered, seemingly surprised that he knew. She stammered, unable to form a full sentence.
“Went gambling again?” Xia Chun pressed. “Didn’t I tell you not to hang out with those people?”
“Who talks to their mom like that?” Feng Xiaochun snapped, but then softened, remembering her goal. “Xia Chun, have you been busy with work lately?”
Xia Chun pressed his lips together, standing silently with his back to her.
Feng Xiaochun approached, taking the hair dryer from the side and gently drying his hair.
“It’s so cold. Be careful not to catch a cold. You’re grown up, yet you still don’t take care of yourself.”
Her hands moved softly through his hair. For a moment, it felt like childhood again. In the mirror, he saw himself and the woman behind him, as if carved from the same mold.
“You lost money again?” Xia Chun asked slowly.
“No, not lost,” Feng Xiaochun replied. “I borrowed from a friend last time, my salary isn’t in yet, but she’s already asking. I couldn’t refuse.”
“I borrowed to pay into the pension, so later you’ll have a little retirement fund. Eases your burden a bit.”
Xia Chun stared at his reflection, so intently that it felt unfamiliar. For a moment, he wanted to shatter the mirror, seeing his reflection break apart piece by piece.
“I know. I’ll transfer the money to you later.”
—
“Song Yinxing, you answer this question.”
Called on, Song Yinxing stood, though he hadn’t fully heard the question.
Being a top student, the teacher didn’t scold him, only warning: “Pay attention in class. Any questions can be asked after class.”
Then Xia Chun was asked to answer.
“What’s going on, Brother Song? Using your phone in class isn’t like you.” His deskmate nudged him.
Song Yinxing shook his head, refocusing.
Earlier, Gu Yang had taken a photo of him.
From the angle, it looked like the school library.
The sunlight was pleasant, casting tree shadows on the desks, reflecting a soft, warm glow.
Song Yinxing zoomed in on the photo. Gu Yang had a book titled “Lemmings—A Journey of Suicide” next to him.
He quickly typed a detailed explanation: lemmings don’t actually commit mass suicide. Their migrations relieve environmental pressures—a survival adaptation, not “suicide.”
After sending the message, Gu Yang replied with a cute cat image.
Xia Chun, sitting in front, now listened intently and answered fluently.
Song Yinxing looked at his back and thought of the tragedy from his previous life.
He remembered Zheng Ying crying in panic, telling him the truth in a jumbled way.
She had confessed to Xia Chun, been rejected, and learned he was actually a boy.
The incident shattered her completely, taking a long time to recover. Later, when Shen Mingjun invited her to eat, she mentioned a classmate liking Xia Chun, ensuring the girl could stop pursuing him.
Unexpectedly, the situation escalated. Shen’s entertainment newspaper pursued sensationalism, pushing events further.
Now, with Shen Mingjun dropped out and the company bankrupt, the source was gone—so theoretically, the tragedy shouldn’t happen.
But it didn’t disappear.
Gu Yang continued reading the article carefully.
The sun was just right. He leaned lazily by the window instead of sitting.
He had picked the book randomly from the shelf.
The yellowed pages looked very old, even smelled of aged paper.
“They embark on a mass migration toward death. This is the suicidal nature flowing in the blood of lemmings.”
It was a literary magazine; its scientific accuracy wasn’t certain. Yet earlier, a university prodigy had patiently explained the biology behind it.
Gu Yang couldn’t help but curve his lips into a faint smile.
He also thought back to yesterday’s encounter with Xia Chun.
Although the main culprit leading Xia Chun to destruction had been removed ahead of time, he still felt the tragedy wouldn’t vanish so simply.
He could sense it from Xia Chun.
Precarious, tilting, unsteady.
Footsteps approached the library entrance. Though the bell had rung, few came at this time.
He relaxed his fingers; the breeze helped flip the page.
White curtains swayed, partially obscuring his face, only outlining a vague silhouette in the sunlight.
The sun was warm, yet the person it shone on seemed unbearably cold.
Gu Yang, sensing something, raised his head.
