“Jiang Xiaobai, where’s your homework?”
“He Qizheng, get up and answer this question.”
“Yi Yunwang, don’t daydream in class!”
Voices echoed through the noisy classroom, but to Jiang Chi’s ears, they blurred into indistinct murmurs.
Sitting in the front row, he hollowly bowed his head, his hands numb as he mechanically refreshed his electronic missing person notice.
The bounty had surged from the initial 50,000 to 200,000, yet it was still like throwing a stone into the ocean — no trace, no news at all.
A whole week had passed.
Seven days, one hundred sixty-eight hours, ten thousand eighty minutes, six hundred four thousand eight hundred seconds…
Every second dragged by with unbearable torment and pain.
Ji Qingchan was gone. No, more precisely, she had disappeared…
Just as she had appeared by Jiang Chi’s side without any warning, now she vanished without a trace as well…
The daily greetings still arrived on his phone, but the person was nowhere to be seen — vanished as if she had never existed in this world.
If one opened their WeChat calls, aside from the woman’s three simple greetings sent punctually every day — good morning, good afternoon, good night — the rest were the boy’s countless messages, dense with emotion.
“Are you there?”
“Why didn’t you come today? Are you sick?”
“Qingchan, please reply when you see this.”
“Did I do something wrong? Don’t ignore me, I’ll change.”
“I beg you, please say something…”
“Ji Qingchan…”
“…….”
No matter how hard he tried, all he received were brief “good morning, good afternoon, good night” replies, as if the person on the other end was no longer a living, breathing human with feelings but a cold, mechanical existence.
He sent messages like a madman every day, called nonstop, even waited in front of her rented room, but got nothing in return.
It was as if the heavens were toying with him — mercifully extending a straw to pull him out of the mire, only to cruelly snatch it away again.
Jiang Chi’s mind replayed every moment with Ji Qingchan. They strolled along park paths, laughter echoing in the air; they cuddled on the sofa, sharing a heartwarming movie; they fumbled together in the kitchen preparing dinner, sweetness filling the chaos.
But now, all those beautiful memories were like fragile, illusory bubbles, vanishing in an instant without a trace.
The school bell rang melodiously, the entire campus basking in the joy of going home, but Jiang Chi still sat there with his head bowed low, fingers repeating the refresh action mechanically, eyes glued to the bounty page, filled with desperate hope.
“Jiang Chi, Jiang Chi.”
A soft voice called his name.
“Jiang Chi.”
Like awakening from a dream, he slowly lifted his head, but his gaze dimmed instantly, because the warm, gentle black eyes meeting his were not the one he longed for day and night — but Chen Jiajia.
“Classmate Chen, is there something you need?” His lips forced a distant, polite, and hollow smile, his voice betraying fatigue and sorrow.
“Jiang Chi, the class is organizing a team-building activity this afternoon…” Chen Jiajia hadn’t finished speaking when Jiang Chi interrupted.
“Sorry, I have something this afternoon. Maybe next time.” He shook his head apologetically, but his eyes held no hesitation or wavering.
Without waiting for Chen Jiajia to reply, he slung his bag over his shoulder and hurried out of the classroom without looking back.
The warm sunlight poured down on him unreservedly, stretching his lonely shadow long and long, until it disappeared completely into the bustling crowd.
After school, Jiang Chi didn’t go home.
As usual, he sent a fake message to his parents saying he was home, then headed straight to a residential complex.
Once again standing before a firmly shut door, Jiang Chi gazed at it for a moment, sighed softly, glanced around, and casually sat down on a nearby step.
He crossed his arms, leaned back against the wall, closed his eyes lightly, and waited quietly…
From what he knew, the tenant opposite 304, in unit 305, was only home on Fridays.
He had a bad temper and disliked disturbances, so as soon as class ended, Jiang Chi rushed here, hoping to get any news about “Ji Qingchan” from him.
Fifteen minutes, thirty minutes, forty-five minutes…
The sun slowly shifted westward, the gentle dusk light draping over him like a thin veil.
His once white shirt gradually stained a deep brown under the sunset’s afterglow, even his pale lips flushed a bloody red.
Suddenly, a clear “ding-dong” notification sound shattered the long silence as the tightly shut door creaked open a slit.
In that instant, the boy’s tightly closed eyes snapped open, a flame called hope igniting within them, his bright blue gaze filled with expectation.
The half-open door of room 305 revealed a burly man.
His face was rough and weathered, his sharp eyes wary as he looked at Jiang Chi sitting on the opposite steps, a sharp kitchen knife in his right hand.
“Who are you looking for?”
Jiang Chi lifted his hand and pointed toward the room opposite 305, speaking politely and earnestly, “Uncle, I’m looking for the resident of 304.”
“Oh, you mean her.”
Perhaps swayed by Jiang Chi’s courteous tone, the man lowered his guard slightly, thought for a moment, then slowly nodded. “Yeah… There used to be a woman living there, but I heard she went back to the countryside. It’s been a long time. I don’t know exactly when.”
Back to the countryside?
Why would she go back there?
No money?
If she had no money, why not come to him?
Did she face some kind of trouble?
But why wouldn’t she turn to him? They were a couple — they should face hardships together.
Confusion and worry flickered in the boy’s eyes.
He didn’t catch the rest of the man’s words, but after thanking him, Jiang Chi quickly left.
At least, at least there was a glimmer of hope.
He knew Ji Qingchan had gone back to the countryside.
He knew Qingchan was safe.
Back at home, Jiang Chi called his father, a school board member.
“Dad, it’s me.”
“Help me check on Qingchan. I want to know her student registration info, including her home address.”
“We didn’t have a fight, really.”
…
“Mom, your skills are terrible.”
“Aunt Chen, you’re no better.”
“How come you two are so bad at this game?”
“We played ten matches as a team and only won three. Two of those wins were because the other side gave up after a long fight.”
In the VIP ward, Little Tyrant Ji Yueniang sat on the bedside with one leg crossed, playing games with his mother and his mother’s best friend.
His venomous tongue was in full swing, delivering a hundred points of damage to enemies and ten thousand to allies.
Huang Qingchuan and Chen Mengrou exchanged a glance and silently clenched their teeth, swallowing their irritation. Calm down, calm down, deep breath, deep breath. He’s the patient. He’s the patient.
Repeating this mantra a few times, they barely suppressed the urge to grab his ears and give him a proper scolding.
After quite a while of this, the two mothers were almost driven mad by Ji Yueniang’s toxic remarks, but luckily, their years of maturity kept them from losing control.
As lunch time approached, a voice suddenly rang out.
“Yueyue, look who’s here?”