The man appeared to be in his forties, with a square face and neatly combed hair swept behind his ears. His suit was impeccably tailored, and every detail of his appearance was meticulously arranged. Just by looking at him, one could easily match his rigid and formal demeanor to the tone of 412L’s online posts.
Shen Kui and Ji Xun exchanged a glance, then stood up in unison. Ji Xun extended his hand in greeting. “Hello, please—”
“Are you the one who messaged me?” the man interrupted impatiently, slamming his briefcase onto the table with a sharp thud. He seemed ready to confront them. But as his gaze shifted to Shen Kui, he froze as if struck by lightning. He stumbled backward two steps, visibly shaken.
“You… you… you…” he stammered, pointing at Shen Kui, his lips trembling uncontrollably. For a long moment, he couldn’t form a complete sentence.
Ji Xun shot Shen Kui a look that said, “See? I told you so”, then stepped forward and patted the man’s shoulder. “It’s alright, buddy. I went through the same thing.”
The man in the suit glanced nervously between the two of them, his eyes darting back and forth. He instinctively turned to leave but stopped after two steps, remembering his briefcase still lay on the table in front of Shen Kui. After a moment of hesitation, he took a few deep breaths and slowly walked back.
He stared at Shen Kui, raising his voice as if to bolster his own courage. “Who exactly are you?”
Shen Kui sighed and gestured around them. “We’re in a library. Could you keep your voice down?” She pointed to the chair in front of her. Ji Xun promptly pulled it out and motioned for the man to sit.
The man opened his mouth, unsure how to respond, the awkward tension leaving him feeling choked. His expression sour, he stood stiffly for a while before finally taking a seat.
“Who are you? Why did you send me those photos? What do you want?”
As soon as he sat down, the man fired off several questions in rapid succession. His tone was cold and unyielding, his expression making it clear he wouldn’t leave without answers.
Shen Kui looked at him, rubbing her temples in frustration. After a moment’s thought, she decided to answer his questions first.
Meeting his gaze calmly and slowly, she said, “My name is Shen Kui. I’m 27 years old, and I’m one of the seven survivors of the Huaixihe station accident.”
She signaled to Ji Xun, who immediately understood and pulled out his phone, scrolling to the forum photo of the seven survivors.
Shen Kui zoomed in on the photo and slid it toward the man, pointing to the woman in the back right who looked exactly like her. “I don’t know who this person is, but my parents died in that accident. We’ve been investigating clues related to this photo recently, and we reached out to you in the hope that you might have some answers.”
She paused, noticing the man’s expression gradually softening as she spoke.
Subtly exchanging a glance with Ji Xun, he immediately chimed in. “I’m also one of the survivors. I was only four years old when the accident happened. I was the one who messaged you on the forum. I’m truly sorry for bringing up painful memories, but we really mean no harm. We just want to understand what happened back then.”
As he spoke, Ji Xun made a pleading gesture, his youthful and harmless appearance further easing the man’s defenses.
The man in the suit glanced between the two of them, his gaze finally settling on Shen Kui’s face.
He gazed at Shen Kui, his eyes harboring some obscure emotions.
Shen Kui keenly sensed the other’s hesitation and continued persuading in a gentle tone, “We saw your reply in the post and guessed you might be someone who shares a similar experience. Since we were on the same train back then, I believe there are things we can understand about each other.”
Calmly, Shen Kui added, “Meeting you this way was truly a last resort. We mean no harm. Today, we only want to ask you a few questions. Of course, if our conversation makes you uncomfortable, you’re free to leave at any time.”
Under their successive persuasion, the man in the suit visibly softened his stance.
Shen Kui didn’t rush to ask questions but quietly watched him. Her gaze was gentle yet firm. Under her steady attention, he finally relaxed completely.
He let out a long sigh, leaning back in his chair. “Go ahead. What do you want to know?”
Suppressing her inner excitement, Shen Kui pushed the phone displaying the photo of the seven forum members toward him again. She asked as tactfully as possible, “If it’s convenient, could you please tell me which one in this photo is your relative?”
The man in the suit instinctively frowned. Clearly, this first question displeased him. But having agreed earlier, he couldn’t back out now, so he quickly tapped on the screen.
Shen Kui looked closely. He had pointed to the only slightly older man in the photo. In the picture, the man was half-crouching on the left side, his temples already graying, his eyes vacant as he stared at the camera.
Perhaps to prevent Shen Kui from saying something he didn’t want to hear, the man in the suit explained coldly, “That’s my dad. I was just in my early twenties when the accident happened. This photo was probably taken a year before it.”
Shen Kui and Ji Xun exchanged a glance, both seeing a flicker of excitement in each other’s eyes.
At the time of the accident, they were four and seven years old, respectively, with few memories to retain. The man in the suit was older than they were, so he likely had more information. Moreover, his tone suggested he knew something about this photo.
However, his next words poured cold water on their hopes. “Don’t get too excited yet. I know nothing. My dad and I weren’t on the train together that day. I have no idea where he got the invitation ticket. I only found out he was there when the casualty list was released.”
Shen Kui asked, “Then do you know why he—”
“I don’t know. We lived together back then, but we rarely talked. When I learned he was on the list of victims, I was more surprised than anyone,” the man in the suit said calmly.
“Could you tell us how the accident happened? Was there anything you found particularly unusual?” Ji Xun inquired.
“The accident itself wasn’t anything special. You’ve probably seen it reported many times in the news. It was just an ordinary train derailment. We were just unlucky. I passed out when it happened and briefly woke up once in between. By the time I regained full consciousness, I was already in the hospital.”
“You said… ‘the accident wasn’t particularly unusual’?” Shen Kui said uncertainly. “Sorry, I tend to be a bit nitpicky with words. Did you mean something more by that?”
The man in the suit looked deeply at Shen Kui. After a long pause, he nodded. “Yes, you’re very perceptive.”
“Indeed, there is one thing that has haunted me all these years.” As he spoke, he straightened his posture. He gazed at Shen Kui’s face as if looking through her at someone else.
Word by word, he said, “On the subway, I saw a woman who looked exactly like you.”
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Meow meow On TPH Chapter 26.1