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Lin Xian stayed quiet. He was almost sure Zhou Duan Yun had a hand in the attack on Tang Xin. But they were smart about it. Duan Yun had neither a clear motive nor direct actions linking him to Tang Xin’s murder, so even a police investigation would likely come up empty.

Sharing his suspicions with the police would only be seen as conjecture without solid proof.

If Zhou Duan Yun and Xu Yun’s mentor were behind the murders of Xu Yun and Tang Xin, then they were also toying with him. Like Xu Yun and Tang Xin before him, he was on their hit list, just a matter of time.

What baffled Lin Xian was his own involvement. Xu Yun and Tang Xin were renowned scientists specializing in hibernation; he wasn’t a scientist and had little in common with them. Was his knowledge of the future, used to assist Xu Yun, the reason he was targeted too?

He recalled Tang Xin’s cheerful smile, her timid glances, her boldness, and her admiration for him.

“I absolutely cannot let them get away with this!”

The next day, at Chu An Qing’s hospital room.

Sitting up in bed, Chu An Qing brightened. “Senior Lin Xian, you’re here. I was just about to call you.”

Lin Xian set the get-well gifts on the bedside table. “No worries. Just focus on getting better. How are you feeling?”

Chu An Qing scratched her head, a bit embarrassed. “I’m actually fine. I just faint at the sight of blood. My dad’s making a fuss, insisting on all these tests. But really, I’m okay.”

Her expression then shifted as she looked at Lin Xian. “What about Tang Xin?”

Lin Xian shook his head. “She didn’t survive. She died in the accident.”

Chu An Qing sighed. “My dad mentioned the police are on it. They have the escape route and car footage. They’ve found some leads.”

Lin Xian remembered Gao Yang’s words about Zhou Duan Yun providing the footage. He had expected the car involved to vanish like the one used in Xu Yun’s murder. But according to An Qing, the police had significant leads this time.

“That’s unexpected,” Lin Xian commented. “What else did your dad say? Can the police catch the killer?”

“My dad said they’ve been struggling with Xu Yun’s case, so there’s extra pressure. They’re trying everything…” Chu An Qing stood up. “Especially since Tang Xin’s case might link back to Professor Xu Yun. They’re desperate. They even brought in a top external investigator.”

“An external investigator?”

“Yes, my dad didn’t share much, just that it’s confidential for now. The police are keeping it under wraps.”

“But he did say the investigator is sharp and quickly mapped out a solid plan to catch the killer. They might nab them soon!”

“Really?” Lin Xian scratched his head, feeling like he was in a detective novel. But coming from Chu Shan He, it had to be true. His influence in Donghai City meant he had access to insider information.

And with his daughter nearly caught in the crossfire, he’d be determined to see the case thoroughly investigated.

“By the way, Senior Lin Xian, my dad is really thankful to you!” Chu An Qing smiled. “He wants to thank you in person once I’m out of here.”

“No need,” Lin Xian waved his hand. “I just did what anyone would. It wasn’t a big deal. Actually, I wanted to ask about when Tang Xin left the dressing room.”

He paused, then continued, “Could you tell me everything from when you left the stage until Tang Xin departed?”

“Sure,” Chu An Qing nodded. “After our performance, we chatted, took off our makeup, and got changed. Then, someone called Tang Xin. She hurriedly grabbed her stuff and left.”

“Do you know who called her or what was discussed?”

Chu An Qing shook her head. “I don’t. After she left, I noticed she forgot her phone. I grabbed it and ran after her. You know the rest. I almost caught up to give it to her when you pulled me back.”

“Did the police take the phone?”

“I think so… I was out cold at the hospital and don’t know what happened during that time.”

Lin Xian had hoped to check the phone’s call logs or messages. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the police, but he had his own plans.

He suspected Zhou Duan Yun had made that call, urging her to the theater entrance.

“Okay, I understand.” Lin Xian stood, ready to leave. “Rest up. I’ll let you be.”

“Senior Lin Xian…” Chu An Qing caught his sleeve, looking up at him. “Thank you for saving me. If it hadn’t been for you…”

She thought of Tang Xin’s tragic fate and lost her words. She knew Tang Xin was Lin Xian’s high school friend, and his grief must be deep. She had survived, but Tang Xin had not.

If she hadn’t been there, would Lin Xian have saved Tang Xin in time?

Feeling guilty, she paused.

“It’s okay,” Lin Xian reassured her, seeing her troubled look. “Everything will come to light soon.”

Two days later, Tang Xin’s parents came from Hang City. They organized her funeral and collected her ashes from Donghai City’s crematorium.

Her parents, still young and once vibrant, were now heartbroken, initially weeping uncontrollably, then numbed by their loss.

Tang Xin’s younger brother, still in college and three years her junior, took care of the formalities. With his sister gone, he had to stay strong.

Lin Xian and Gao Yang spoke with Tang Xin’s family, though the conversation felt hollow. The dead couldn’t return.

A few days later, Tang Xin’s ashes were interred. The sound of the funeral receded across the fields, and bits of burnt paper money fluttered away in the spring breeze.

In just days, the lively girl had become a mound of earth, soon to be forgotten.

Decades might pass, and many classmates might forget Tang Xin.

She had come and gone in a flash.

Alone in the field, Lin Xian walked towards a small, barely half-meter-high mound, one of the few marked graves in the area.

With policies to preserve farmland, more graves would eventually merge back into the earth.

Standing in the muddy field under a blood-red sunset, Lin Xian gazed at the grave.

After a long moment, he bowed his head and spoke softly, “Tang Xin… your research could have changed the world for the better.”

“But there are those who oppose change. They see science and uncertainty as threats.”

“I don’t know their motives,” Lin Xian stared at the setting sun. “But no matter their reasons, they aren’t justified.”

He laid a bouquet on the grave and stood up.

“Wait for me,” he said. “I’ll expose them, and then I’ll come back to visit.”

He turned, leaving the crimson sky behind.

The spring wind caught the edge of Lin Xian’s jacket, rustling the young crops, swaying the green willows by the field, and stirring the lilies on the grave as if in agreement.