Chapter 504: Shadows of the Past

In the villa’s courtyard, a group of children had gathered.

The noise from the third-floor window was so loud that it naturally caught the attention of the sharp-eared little ones.

When Lu Xin stepped out, the worried eyes of the children instantly turned towards him—some filled with anger, some with fear, and others with a mix of both, their glances tinged with disappointed exasperation.

Lu Xin lowered his head, refusing to meet their gaze, and walked past quickly.

He mounted his motorcycle and slowly rode away from the villa.

Upon reaching the main gate, Lu Xin slowed down.

Turning his head, he spotted the old security guard standing in the well-kept security booth at the villa’s entrance—a compact space of about three to four square meters, neatly finished and even fitted with a small charcoal stove—quietly looking at him through a brand-new glass window.

Lu Xin silently stared back. For a long while, neither one spoke.

Likewise, neither could detect any unusual emotion in the other’s eyes.

After a full three to four seconds, Lu Xin gave a slight nod and softly said, “Why have you stopped keeping flowers lately?”

The old security guard froze, momentarily at a loss for words.

Lu Xin continued, “Keep tending them; I set aside a flower bed just for you.”

After those words, he slowly twisted the throttle, rode out of the villa, handed fifty yuan to two minibus drivers waiting outside, and without another word, the motorcycle gradually gained speed as it headed off into the distance.

Inside the security booth, the old guard only after a long while suddenly felt a chill running down his back.

He realized his cold sweat had drenched his back.

“This isn’t good…”

Suddenly, he remembered something and dashed back into the villa.

Despite his age, he moved surprisingly fast.

Bounding up three steps at a time, he reached the largest room on the third floor and flung the door open, only to find Teacher Xiao Lu sitting silently by the window, unresponsive to the commotion of his entrance.

In winter, night falls quickly, and a dim light cast over her as she stood gazing outside.

Seeing that she was unharmed eased the old guard’s worry just a little.

Yet, looking at her back as she faced the window, he wasn’t sure how to begin.

After a long moment, he lowered his voice and asked, “Are you alright?”

Without turning around, Teacher Xiao Lu replied quietly, “Right now, the one you should be worried about is him, isn’t it?”

The old guard paused before asking with concern, “How much does he know?”

Teacher Xiao Lu answered softly, “He’s remembered what happened at the orphanage back then. I didn’t probe for details, but it’s clear he recalls everything—including the sound when he broke my spine by hand…”

A deep fear welled up in the old guard’s eyes.

It made his breathing grow heavier as he whispered, “And…what about the others?”

Teacher Xiao Lu shook her head lightly after a long pause.

The old guard seemed slightly relieved, yet he still had many questions.

But looking at her silent demeanor, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt.

Trying to offer some comfort, he managed a small smile and said slowly, “In that sense… it’s not so bad…”

“He remembers the past, but he hasn’t lost control…”

“Maybe, just maybe, that means he’s truly… better?”

“…”

“I hope he’s gotten better.”

Teacher Xiao Lu slowly lowered her head, her voice tinged with regret, “Maybe he really has improved, but I… I still fear him. I don’t understand—could it be that I’m the one who can’t let go of the past?”

“You can’t say that,”

The old guard suddenly raised his head, his expression more serious than ever, “In all of this, the only one who can’t be blamed is you.”

“Among everyone, you are the only innocent one.”

“You were never involved in these matters. But since you ran the orphanage, it had to look the part, so you took in those children… When outsiders came in, who could have foreseen what would happen?”

“Even more unexpected is that, in the end, those who left, scattered, and died ended up leaving all the blame on you…”

“…”

“Please, stop…”

The old guard’s words seemed to break Teacher Xiao Lu, and her emotions surged intensely.

“You know…”

Her voice trembled with unshed tears, “I’m not innocent.”

“After all, it was I who… suggested that escape plan…”

“…”

The old guard fell silent, seemingly regretting having raised the issue.

After a long silence, he slowly shook his head and said, “It’s not your fault. Back then, you were only looking out for those children, and if someone hadn’t betrayed us, your escape plan might not have failed…”

“What’s the point of saying these things?”

Teacher Xiao Lu’s face was streaked with tears, as she clenched her fist so tightly that her nails dug into her skin. Her voice was filled with a peculiar mix of suppression and restraint, “I can never shirk this guilt. The one who snitched to the director is dead, the disaster has been set, and things have come to this point—how can I claim I’m innocent?”

“How can I say that nothing is my fault?”

“Perhaps if it weren’t for me, they wouldn’t have died. They might even still be alive…”

“…”

The old guard heard the deep self-reproach in her words and felt utterly powerless.

It seemed he hesitated, unsure if he should reveal more.

Unable to decide, he quietly asked, “Do you remember what he said as he left after that disaster?”

“Some of the bodies vanished inexplicably, including…”

He paused before whispering, “even that snitch child…”

Teacher Xiao Lu kept her head bowed, not absorbing his words.

To her, such words were pointless—after all, death is death…

Seeing her inability to accept it, the old guard sighed softly.

After a long while, he shifted the topic and asked, “So what did he say as he left?”

Outside, the last ray of sunset illuminated Teacher Xiao Lu’s face.

A bittersweet smile graced her lips as she softly said, “He promised he’d cure himself.”

A subtle change flickered across the old guard’s face.

After a moment, he shook his head lightly and said, “But who can tell which version of him is truly healed?”

“I don’t know…”

After a long pause, Teacher Xiao Lu said uncertainly, “But I do know that he used every ounce of strength back then to try and lead everyone out of that hell. He did everything a child could do to stand up against those adults…”

“What I hate the most now is my own fear…”

“Half of me is gripped by terror every time I recall that night—afraid of him…”

“And the other half, every time I think of his futile struggle to save them…”

“It’s incredibly pitiful…”

…

…

As night descended and the streetlights gradually emerged along the road, Lu Xin felt as if the world around him was distorting.

He rode on, sensing an eerie presence wrapping around him.

The glaring beams of street and head lights merged into bizarre, twisting lines up ahead.

They writhed like serpents—sometimes long, sometimes short, continuously twisting and snapping apart.

In the shadowy corners, something mysterious seemed to be watching him.

When he ignored them, their boldness grew, and they even emerged from the corners with cold, mocking smiles, provocatively daring him, only to vanish when he looked directly at them.

Even as he rode along, the city felt increasingly alien, as if distancing itself from him.

The road, the headlights, the buildings, and the crowd all seemed to drift farther away, creating an invisible barrier.

Overhead, the Red Moon grew larger, looming directly before him.

It felt as though a twist of the throttle could hurl him straight into the Red Moon.

Teacher Xiao Lu’s weeping voice, the sound of her self-reproach, the smiling faces of the orphanage children, the boy who once handed bread to a little girl with a smile, the summer cicadas, the sound of a scalpel slicing through flesh, the steady beeping of an instrument, the visage of a dead child, the twisting building, the trembling furniture, and then the crisp snap of a broken spine…

Lu Xin’s mind seemed overwhelmed, leaving no room for clear thought.

Lights flashed from all directions, disorienting him completely.

His heart pounded wildly, as if the invisible pressure would burst his blood vessels.

“Beep, beep…”

Suddenly, the blaring sound of a horn jolted Lu Xin back to reality.

All the hallucinations and visions vanished in an instant.

Lu Xin realized that, somehow, he had stopped at an intersection.

Surrounded by vehicles blocking all directions, countless bright lights shone on his face as furious drivers pounded their horns. Someone even stuck their head out of a car window and shouted, “Are you stupid?”

“Stopping in the middle of the road to court death? With such a fine motorcycle, do you think you’re impressive or something?”

“…”

It took Lu Xin a long while to regain his clear thoughts.

His hand reached toward the black bag hanging from the handlebars, but halfway there, he changed his mind.

Instead, he raised his hand, formed a gun gesture, and lightly tapped the person at the car window on the head.

The other party immediately grew furious, leaning out with a gesture mimicking a submachine gun, advancing at Lu Xin in a rapid flurry of gestures.

Lu Xin suddenly found it all very amusing; he twisted the throttle and swiftly sped away from the intersection.

…

…

“Time for a family meeting, don’t you think?”

As the early spring chill brushed his face once more, he sighed softly and murmured.