CHAPTER 165: CHAPTER 33: ONE STEP AWAY FROM THE TRUTH

Inside Kelly, there are some places that have never changed, like the rose vines on the school walls, which are said to have been planted over two hundred years ago. After countless baptisms of wind and frost, the old vines are mottled and cracked, and ants crawl all over the cracks, but no one would think that these vines are over two hundred years old when the new sprouts emerge each year.

The librarian is dozing off, just the beginning of the school year, and like all typical universities, it’s only during the final exam period that a library fever breaks out in Kelly Women’s College. Students from the institution almost wear out the doorway, and the study rooms are filled with students’ figures, truly a beautiful sight.

While dozing, the librarian recalls that the door was slammed open; the librarian, almost at retirement, raised their eyes but saw no one. At this time of the year, only the wind would visit.

"No, there once were students who loved to sneak into the library during class time to nap, at the seats near the window on the south side, where the sunlight filtered through the rose vines, shining on them, not too dry." The librarian glanced at the two long-empty seats in the south, where those two very close female students used to sit; one would lie down to sleep, and the other would sit beside, writing in a diary. A "Rose Handbook" owned by every student at Kelly Women’s College.

If Qiao Chu had studied here, if Chang Chi had studied here, they must have left some traces, or she might still find information about the other female student in the photo. These are the reasons why Su Ziceng left her seat halfway through.

The decapitated female student in the photo must be Qiao Chu’s best friend; she must know about Chang Chi and Qiao Chu. The truth is not far away now.

Su Ziceng stood in front of rows of bookshelves, flipping through the books year by year. Very few people come back to look through the "Rose Handbook." Thus, the room was very quiet, only leaving a stale musty smell that doesn’t ventilate all year round.

Su Ziceng did not know the exact enrollment dates of Qiao Chu and Chang Chi; she could only roughly estimate that it was about twenty years ago, when Qiao Chu, Chang Chi, and that female student were probably about the same age as her.

Starting from twenty-five years ago, twenty-four years ago, then to twenty-three years ago, Su Ziceng’s eyes gradually blurred through hundreds of different handwriting. The "Rose Handbook" writing was entirely according to the different owner’s taste; some people preferred to put their signatures on the title page, some liked to write on the last page, and others just randomly added a name inside the pages like casual scribbling.

Her eyes grew increasingly sore, and fingers also started to dry from continuously flipping pages. The noon recess bell had long passed, Su Ziceng felt dryness in her eyesockets; prolonged staring began to disperse her attention.

She rubbed her eyes, thinking whether she should have a meal, rest a bit before returning, as there were still classes in the afternoon, and she couldn’t afford to be absent from the very first class of the school year. She was no longer the Su Ziceng of the past; during these years at Kelly Women’s College, she had to be cautious, regardless of whether she was twenty-five or thirty-five; there was no endless timeline.

"Mom, if you are still blessing me with ’Red Love,’ please tell me where your ’Rose Handbook’ is. I need it; I need to find the real meaning you wanted me to rebirth." Su Ziceng was already somewhat tired, whether facing the ugly demeanor of Chang’s mother and daughter, or growing increasingly distant from Hang Yishao, she was exhausted. If rebirth was just for the same ending, why bother being reborn? She might as well... have just gone then.

Her arm, because of prolonged suspension, started to swell, her elbow weakened and bumped into the bookshelf, resulting in several thick handbooks falling down.

With a pained reaction, Su Ziceng was slow to react, and the books still hit her forehead, "What a piece of crap," Su Ziceng grew impatient and reluctantly picked up a few books.

The handbooks placed at the topmost shelf were covered with a thin layer of dust. She casually flipped it open; predictably, there was no signature on the title page, nor at the end page, her patience was gradually draining.

The handwriting... Su Ziceng hesitated, familiar handwriting... Chang Mei’s handwriting. She had an indescribable feeling in her heart; what she most hoped to find was Qiao Chu’s diary, as with Chang Mei’s personality, she wouldn’t have recorded her misdeeds, so this diary of Chang Mei probably doesn’t hold much information.