The force of this school-wide broadcast was immense. After the uproar throughout the entire academic building, students surged like a tide toward the shore, scrambling to get out the front and back doors of their classrooms. Some students sitting by the hallway windows even took a shortcut, stepping onto their desks and ducking through the windows to get to the corridor.
Without a doubt, they were all rushing to the broadcast room to get a glimpse of the “god-like person.”
“What are you doing? All of you, sit back down! You don’t have enough homework, is that it? If you run out again, I’ll give you two more worksheets right now, to be finished today and reviewed tomorrow!”
The teachers’ shouts were not slow to follow. They directed the class officers to herd the students who had flooded the hallway back into the classrooms like ducks.
Ji Xun hid beside a teacher, quietly peering inside, trying to figure out how to get Zhou Zhaonanout… His gaze passed through the sea of bobbing black-haired heads and met Zhou’s.
While everyone else was rushing to get out, Zhou sat unmovingly in his seat. But when the others were being pushed back by the teachers and class presidents guarding the doors, he, having caught Ji Xun’s eye, stood up silently. Using a group of classmates as cover, he slipped through a window on the other side of the classroom, out of the teachers’ line of sight.
He landed as lightly as a cat and took a few steps toward the faculty staircase, where he already saw Ji Xun’s figure.
From a distance, he saw the other person give him a thumbs-up.
His gaze lingered on the thumb for a moment, his eyes glinting. When he got closer, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Take me to intercept Chi Wenlan,” Ji Xun said concisely. “There’s a problem.”
“What problem?” Zhou asked. After a moment of thought, he added, “The teachers must have gone to the broadcast room to catch the person by now. The grade level director probably won’t act on his own authority for something like this and will wait until the leadership is at work tomorrow to handle it…”
“Does Chi Wenlan live in the school dorms?” Ji Xun asked, remembering the rumor he heard at the notice board about Zhen Huan visiting Chi Wenlan’s dorm.
“No,” Zhou replied negatively. “After Zhen Huan died, Teacher Chi started renting a place off-campus.”
“Then he has to go home at some point—”
“The back gate,” Zhou said decisively. “After something like this, the school will only let him leave through the back gate, and he probably only has the nerve to leave that way.”
After he finished speaking, he didn’t hear Ji Xun’s voice for a long while. Zhou looked up. “You don’t think my analysis is right?”
As soon as he asked, he knew that wasn’t it. The orange light from the hallway lamp cast a soft, gentle glow on Ji Xun’s face.
“No,” Ji Xun said, his eyes smiling. “I just think your analysis is becoming more and more decisive. You have a bright future, classmate.”
On the way to the school’s back gate, Ji Xun began to tell Zhou what he felt was wrong.
“According to you, Teacher Chi only came during the summer vacation, right?”
“Right.”
“Summer tutoring usually starts in August. Let’s say Teacher Chi started teaching at the school on August 1st. Zhen Huan died during the autumn trip. I don’t know what month and day your autumn trip was, but it’s November 12th now. Zhen Huan must have died in October.”
“October 18th,” Zhou said. At this point, he also had a realization. “The timing for the child isn’t right.”
“From August to the end of October, even if they slept together on the very first day, it wouldn’t be three months by October 18th. Plus, Teacher Chi said in the broadcast that he ‘pursued Zhen Huan again and again,’ which makes the timeline seem even more insufficient.”
“That’s one aspect,” Ji Xun said, taking a breath. “The autopsy report, in theory, should only be held by two parties: the police and the deceased’s family. If the family got the report, found out about the baby, and then heard the rumors about their daughter and the teacher—it’s impossible they wouldn’t have come to the school to cause a scene.”
“They did come… I remember when they came, they raised white funeral banners outside the school. Although it was for a short time, it attracted some attention, and people in class talked about it,” Zhou mused.
“A short time?” Ji Xun asked.
“Yes, they were immediately taken into an office by a school official less than ten minutes after they arrived. Right, that was at the end of October, on a Monday… October 29th,” Zhou added.
Ji Xun looked thoughtful. “The 29th is more than ten days after the 18th.”
“Correct.”
“Let me think… maybe it’s possible.” Ji Xun pondered. “An autopsy costs money. Since the police confirmed it was a suicide, Zhen Huan’s parents didn’t initially request one. But the rumors—most likely about Xu Shijin not saving her—reached their ears, and they became suspicious, deciding to pay for an autopsy. That’s when they discovered the fetus in Zhen Huan’s abdomen. With this fetus, they had a new reason to make demands and immediately came to the school for an explanation. But in the parents’ case, the school reacted swiftly and didn’t let them make a scene.”
“Because the school reached a settlement with them, most likely giving them money and having them sign an agreement,” Zhou started to pick up Ji Xun’s train of thought. “If the school and the parents reached a settlement… the school knew about Zhen Huan’s pregnancy long ago!”
“Right, they knew about the pregnancy early on, yet they didn’t fire Teacher Chi. Why?”
“Because Teacher Chi wasn’t the one responsible,” Zhou breathed out, a faint white mist dispersing. He had grasped the truth in the fog. “Teacher Chi wasn’t the father of the child in Zhen Huan’s womb at all.”
“But there’s still a problem,” Zhou frowned. “If the child wasn’t his, why would Teacher Chi say it was? The price for saying that is huge. He’ll probably never be able to teach again.”
“For something like this… we’d better ask the person involved directly.”
After a series of simple analyses, they had arrived at the school’s back gate.
In front of the back gate was a small landscaped garden. The steps leading to the gate were lined with bamboo and fences, and there were scattered mushroom-shaped stools on the lawn. When they arrived, the back gate was empty. Ji Xun checked the time. Only five minutes had passed since the broadcast ended. Considering that Chi Wenlan would inevitably be cornered and reprimanded by the grade level director, he probably hadn’t arrived yet.
He decided to wait, leading Zhou to sit on one of the mushroom stools.
However, the night wind was a bit strong, and the whistling wind seemed to carry noises from the academic building. Ji Xun listened closely for a moment and said, “They haven’t finished making a fuss… it sounds like they’re laughing.”
“Mhm.”
“Laughing at a time like this?”
“Why not?”
“…” Ji Xun turned to look at Zhou.
The night wind was cold. Zhou had already zipped his jacket up to the top, raising the collar to cover his mouth and nose.
He wasn’t sitting on the mushroom stool, but had slid down to the grass, leaning his back against it. He was almost hidden in the stool’s shadow. He seemed to prefer this corner where no one could see him, and even his voice sounded more relaxed.
“It’s just a piece of gossip happening nearby. Once the shock of the thrilling gossip is over, they can use the lingering excitement to evade the teachers’ control and happily talk about other things.”
Speaking of which, he looked up toward the academic building.
The distant white light cast a glow on his face, making it look like a mask floating in the dark night.
“Human joys and sorrows are not interconnected. No one should think they understand anyone else.”
After he spoke, another gust of wind blew by, and Zhou lowered his head and sneezed.
“Cold?” Ji Xun then realized that in their haste to leave the classroom, Zhou had left his jacket behind and was only wearing a school uniform and a thin sweater.
“Not cold,” Zhou said dismissively.
As if. Ji Xun’s 5.2 vision clearly saw the person beside him shivering slightly.
His fingers fiddled with his jacket’s zipper for a few moments before he gave up.
He could take off his jacket and give it to the other person, or share it with him, but he felt that either way, this guarded little classmate would not be pleased.
Ji Xun thought for a moment, then pulled up his hood, shifted back a bit, and blocked the wind.
With his hood up, his vision was obstructed, and he didn’t notice Zhou, sitting beside him, look up at him and silently shuffle closer, hiding in a spot with even less wind.
The two sat in the wind for a while longer. Just as they were getting bored, they finally heard hurried footsteps from ahead.
They were instantly alert, sliding off the mushroom stool and peeking out from behind it.
“It should be Teacher Chi,” Ji Xun said softly. “He’s here.”
He was about to go out and stop him, but another figure, a young girl, chased after Chi Wenlan from behind and grabbed his arm. “Teacher Chi—”
Ji Xun’s foot, which was about to step out, froze.
When Chi Wenlan was grabbed, he deliberately dodged to the side, into the light of a streetlamp, as if to put all his actions in the open.
“Chen Ya?”
His voice, hoarse and weary, carried over to them.
“What is it?”
Chen Ya!
Ji Xun remembered this person too. He had seen her; when the students were gossiping in front of the notice board at night, it was this girl who had screamed for them to stop.
She was also the first girl to see Zhen Huan walking toward the water.
The streetlamp wasn’t far from the mushroom stool where Ji Xun and Zhou were hiding. With some effort, they could see Chi Wenlan and Chen Ya’s faces clearly. To Ji Xun’s surprise, Chen Ya’s eyes were red and swollen, as if she had just had a long, hard cry.
“Why did you say that?” Chen Ya began with an accusation. “Why did you say you were the one pursuing Zhen Huan?”
“Because it’s the truth,” Chi Wenlan said stiffly. “You all misunderstood Zhen Huan. She was not the indecent girl you imagine. The fault is mine. I failed to fulfill my duties as a teacher.”
“I don’t believe you!” Chen Ya screamed.
Isn’t her reaction a bit too extreme?
Ji Xun was puzzled.
Wait, could it be…
“Does Chen Ya also like Chi Wenlan?” Zhou whispered.
It was the most obvious conclusion, but something seemed off.
He replied hesitantly, “…Let’s watch a bit longer.”
This hesitation was correct; they clearly had not connected with Chen Ya’s sorrow either.
At the empty school back gate, all they could hear was Chen Ya’s voice, getting louder with each shout: “If she hadn’t seduced you into doing something shameful, why would she have lost the will to live! She got pregnant, you refused to take responsibility, and she killed herself because she was abandoned! She was indecent! She deserved it!”
Not only were Ji Xun and Zhou jolted, but Chi Wenlan, who had been avoiding Chen Ya, also realized something was wrong. This was a stark contrast to Chen Ya’s reaction when she saw the autopsy report on the bulletin board that night and tried to defend Zhen Huan.
Chi Wenlan looked at the girl in front of him, confused, not knowing what to say. Chen Ya’s words didn’t seem to be for him, but more for herself.
“I don’t know why you would have such a speculation, but I’m telling you, things are exactly as I told the whole school. Stop making up conspiracy theories… Chen Ya, please let me go. I have to leave.”
But Chen Ya grabbed him again, agitated.
“Teacher, you did nothing wrong! Zhen Huan seduced you, you’re innocent!”
“You just won’t listen—”
“Why are you emphasizing that Zhen Huan deserved it?”
Ji Xun stood up directly. He didn’t care if his actions seemed strange, and inserted himself into the conversation between Chen Ya and Chi Wenlan.
The two under the streetlight turned toward Ji Xun in unison. Chen Ya seemed startled, and her agitated state quieted for a moment as she stared blankly at him.
Chen Ya was hiding something.
Of course, of course.
Otherwise, she wouldn’t be so agitated, both at the notice board and right now.
It was very obvious that what Chen Ya was hiding was related to the day she saw Zhen Huan fall into the water…
An image of Zhen Huan’s parents going to Xu Shijin’s house to extort them flashed through Ji Xun’s mind.
Did Chen Ya also give a false testimony?
“Did you really see someone by the river bank witnessing Zhen Huan fall into the water that day?”
“Of course it’s true!” Chen Ya said hurriedly.
But Ji Xun ignored her rebuttal and continued:
“If you didn’t see her, then you were the last person to see Zhen Huan.”
“I said I saw the red hat! I saw someone from Class E! Xu Shijin has already admitted it, she was the last person to see Zhen Huan. Whatever happened to Zhen Huan was because of her—”
The suspicion in Ji Xun’s mind became clearer and clearer.
He looked at Chen Ya coldly:
“What did you do to her, is that it? No, to be more precise, what did you say to her? You, to Zhen Huan… to someone who was about to commit suicide…”
“I didn’t say it!” Chen Ya’s voice cracked. “I didn’t say that sentence!”
She had let it slip.
Not just Ji Xun and Zhou, but even Chi Wenlan began to stare at her, pressuring her. Their burning gazes were like flames, scorching her soul.
Her fragile, delicate nerves snapped under the gaze of the three.
She whimpered, like a cuckoo that had cried its throat raw, leaving only the cold caw of a crow.
“I didn’t… It’s not my fault… I just said the water is deeper ahead…”
