Chapter 41

Wen Hengyue's place is a Japanese teahouse hidden in the old town. When you push open the door, the wind chimes tinkle softly, and the room is filled with a faint, bitter smell of burnt tea stems.

He had arrived and was seated in the innermost private room. A plain-colored tea set was laid out on the table, and water was gently bubbling in the iron kettle.

Xie Qingyan took off her shoes and sat down. Through the rising white mist, she saw that Wen Heng's face was paler than usual, and his eyes behind his glasses were bloodshot.

"Have some tea first," Wen Heng said, his voice hoarse. He picked up the iron kettle, poured boiling water into the teacup, and the emerald green tea leaves unfurled in the swirling water before slowly sinking to the bottom.

His movements were steady, but Xie Qingyan noticed that his fingertips were trembling slightly.

The tea was clear, reflecting the dim light of the paper lanterns overhead.

“Tang Li,” Wen Heng said, not looking at Xie Qingyan, but staring at his own reflection in the tea, “was my and Jiang Ci’s best friend.”

He paused, as if gathering his courage.

"The three of us have known each other since junior high school. We were all in the competition class and consistently ranked in the top three of the grade. I was obsessed with astronomy, Jiang Ci was a math and physics genius, and Tang Li... Tang Li was the kind of person you couldn't help but like."

A faint, nostalgic smile appeared on Wen Heng's lips.

"He is sunny, cheerful, and has a strong sense of justice. Jiang Ci is aloof and often keeps to himself. Only Tang Li can pull him out of his own world. They would play ball together, even though Jiang Ci was terrible at it. Tang Li would also force Jiang Ci to eat green peppers that he didn't like, saying that being picky about food would prevent him from growing tall."

Xie Qingyan listened quietly. He saw something slowly shattering in Wen Heng's eyes.

"In our first year of high school, the three of us participated in the National High School Mathematics League. Jiang Ci and Tang Li both made it into the provincial team, and I was a substitute. At that time, Senior Chen—Chen Jingming—was the captain of the senior team and a strong contender for a guaranteed admission spot."

Wen Heng's fingers unconsciously caressed the rim of the teacup.

"Chen Jingming greatly admires Jiang Ci. He often seeks him out to discuss difficult problems, borrows his notes, and even invites him to join his study group. We all feel that this is a mentorship from a senior."

"But then, things started to go wrong."

Wen Heng looked up at Xie Qingyan: "Jiang Ci started avoiding Chen Jingming. When asked, he only said he didn't want to go. Tang Li noticed and privately asked Jiang Ci, but Jiang Ci refused to say. Until one day—"

He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing.

Tang Li was in the library when he saw Chen Jingming cornering Jiang Ci against a bookshelf. He heard Chen Jingming say, "Jiang Ci, stay with me, and I can help you get a guaranteed admission spot. Otherwise... you know the consequences."

Xie Qingyan's back tensed up.

“Jiang Ci refused,” Wen Heng’s voice lowered. “Then, Chen Jingming laughed. He said, ‘You’ll regret this.’”

"A week later, posts began appearing on the school's anonymous forum. The title was: A top student in the first year of high school actively seduced a senior in the third year of high school in order to secure a spot in the college entrance examination."

Wen Heng's speech quickened, as if he were chasing something terrifying.

"The post included screenshots of chat logs, showing a conversation between Jiang Ci and Chen Jingming, but these were taken out of context and maliciously pieced together. Jiang Ci was clearly asking about a competition question, but the caption read 'Seeking guidance late at night,' which is despicable. Chen Jingming's polite reply was interpreted as him being harassed."

"The screenshot is blurry, and the profile picture is blurred, but everyone in the class can tell at a glance that it is Jiang Ci's WeChat profile picture. Everyone knows that his profile picture is of his pet cat."

Xie Qingyan thought of Jiang Ci's phone—the lock screen looked like a black cat.

“Public opinion spread very quickly.” Wen Heng closed his eyes. “Some people said Jiang Ci’s homosexuality was disgusting, and some said he would do anything for his future. Jiang Ci tried to explain, but no one listened. Chen Jingming appeared very troubled in public, saying that Jiang Ci might have misunderstood something.”

"The homeroom teacher spoke with Jiang Ci, his tone full of suspicion. You know Jiang Ci's father. He was furious, feeling that his son had disgraced him, and locked Jiang Ci at home, forbidding him from going to school."

Wen Heng's voice began to tremble.

“During that time, only Tang Li believed Jiang Ci. He publicly stated in the class group that chat logs could be faked, and asked everyone to stop slandering him before the truth was revealed.”

"Then, the firepower shifted to Tang Li."

Wen Heng took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes vigorously. When he put them back on, his eyes behind the lenses were bloodshot.

"Someone posted anonymously, saying that Tang Li and Jiang Ci were in cahoots, that Tang Li's father's company had tax problems, and that Tang Li was paid to speak up for Jiang Ci. They dug up Tang Li's home address, his sister's school... and even made harassing phone calls to his father's company."

“Tang Li is very strong. He smiled and said that the innocent will clear themselves. He went to school as usual every day and sent messages to Jiang Ci to encourage him. But in private…” Wen Heng’s voice choked up, “He suffered from insomnia and hair loss. Once I saw him secretly crying in the bathroom.”

"Three months. This cyberbullying lasted for a full three months."

Wen Heng picked up the teacup, his hand trembling so badly that the tea spilled out, scalding the back of his hand red. He was completely unaware of it.

"That last day... was a Friday. Tang Li posted his last update on social media: I told the truth, why doesn't anyone believe me?"

"He went to school on Saturday morning. The door to the top floor of the laboratory building is usually locked, but that day... I don't know why it was open."

Wen Heng couldn't continue. He lowered his head, his shoulders twitching slightly.

Xie Qingyan felt a lump in his throat. He remembered the sunny photo on the forum, and the bloodshot eyes after being photoshopped.

“The police came and checked the surveillance footage.” Wen Heng’s voice was low, almost a whisper. “Tang Li stood on the rooftop for twenty minutes. He didn’t cry, he didn’t shout, he just quietly looked into the distance. Then… he took a step forward.”

"The day Tang Li jumped off the building happened to be Jiang Ci's birthday, which is today."

The teacup slipped from Xie Qingyan's hand and crashed onto the tatami mat with a crisp, jarring sound.

Jiang Ci did not attend the funeral.

Wen Heng raised his head, tears streaming down his face silently, but his face remained expressionless, like a weeping sculpture.

"He locked himself in his room and slashed his wrists with a utility knife. Blood soaked half the bed sheet. When the cleaning lady found him, he was already unconscious from blood loss."

Xie Qingyan's heart suddenly contracted, and the pain almost made him bend over.

"After being rescued, Jiang Ci didn't speak a word for three months. The doctor diagnosed him with post-traumatic stress disorder, accompanied by severe depression. Six months later, Jiang Ci returned to school, but everyone could see that he was in very bad condition. He became violent and his emotions were extremely unstable. He often got into physical conflicts with other students at school. He spent his entire second year of high school in escapism and depravity. Then, when his third year of high school started, Uncle Jiang arranged for him to transfer to No. 9 Middle School."

Wen Heng looked at Xie Qingyan, tears still flowing, but his eyes were empty.

"Do you know the scar on Jiang Ci's wrist? It's very long, stretching from the inside of his wrist all the way to his forearm. He always says it was an accidental cut."

Xie Qingyan recalled the first night Jiang Ci stayed at the Xie family home, when Jiang Ci emerged from the bath, his sleeve slipping down to reveal a pale white scar. At the time, Jiang Ci had concealed it with an old wound.

It turns out that wasn't an old wound.

Those are the marks of guilt, the inscriptions of a widow.

A long silence followed. Only the water in the kettle continued to boil weakly.

Xie Qingyan looked at the tea leaves that had sunk to the bottom of the tea soup; they looked like curled-up corpses.

"Where is Chen Jingming?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"He got accepted without taking the entrance exam." Wen Heng forced a smile, a smile that was more like a grimace. "A prestigious university, a popular major. He seems to be a student leader in some organization now, doing very well."

"Those rumors..."

"With Jiang Ci transferring schools and Tang Li's death, people gradually stopped mentioning it. The internet has no memory; only the victims do."

Wen Heng picked up another teacup, filled it, and pushed it in front of Xie Qingyan.

“Now you know,” he said, his voice weary as if he had traversed countless mountains and rivers. “Who is Tang Li? What is the weight of that life?”

Xie Qingyan picked up the teacup. The tea was scalding hot, burning his palm through the porcelain.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked.

Wen Heng looked at him, his eyes filled with complex emotions: "Because Jiang Ci cares about you. I can tell. The way he looks at you is different from how he looked at Tang Li back then, but it's just as precious."

He paused, his voice lowering:

"Xie Qingyan, I must ask you—after knowing all this, do you still dare to stand by his side?"

Do you know the price of getting close to him?

Do you know what you might be facing?

Did you know you could become the next Tang Li?

Wen Heng didn't ask these questions aloud, but Xie Qingyan saw his own pale face reflected in the tea.

He remembered Jiang Ci's empty eyes, the words "go pay off your debts," and the scar on his wrist.

Then, he remembered earlier, Jiang Ci's profile as he deleted the video for him in the internet cafe, the silent yet steadfast support in the hospital, and the unfinished words under the starry sky: "The important thing is who you watch it with."

He recalled Jiang Ci's tearful yet silent face at the corner of the stairs earlier that day.

Xie Qingyan put down her teacup.

The porcelain struck the wooden table, producing a soft "tap" sound.

“Wen Heng,” he began, his voice calm, as calm as the sea before a storm, “thank you for telling me all this.”

Wen Heng looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

“But you asked the wrong question.” Xie Qingyan raised her eyes, her gaze clear as an ancient well. “You shouldn’t have asked me if I dared to stand beside him.”

He paused, then spoke slowly and deliberately:

"You should ask—those who slandered others and drove Tang Li to his death, do they sleep at night?"

Wen Heng was stunned.

"Tang Li's death is not Jiang Ci's fault," Xie Qingyan continued, her voice filled with a cold, almost angry firmness. "It is the fault of the rumor-mongers, the fault of the disseminators, the fault of everyone who wields the moral sword before the truth is clear."

"Jiang Ci is a victim. Tang Li is a victim. Their only 'mistake' might be that they believed too much that there was still justice in this world."

He stood up, and the tatami mats made a slight squeaking sound.

"I'm going to find Jiang Ci," Xie Qingyan said, "before he does anything foolish."

Wen Heng also stood up: "I'll go with you."

"No need," Xie Qingyan shook her head. "This is between him and me. But Wen Heng—"

He turned around and looked at the boy who also carried a heavy past:

"If you still consider Tang Li a friend, if you still consider Jiang Ci a friend... next time, please tell the truth sooner. Silence, sometimes, is also a form of accomplice."

Wen Heng's face paled, but he nodded: "I understand."

——

By the time Xie Qingyan left the teahouse, it was completely dark. Streetlights illuminated the streets, and cars streamed by.

He took out his phone and called Jiang Ci. No one answered.

Send a message: [Jiang Ci, where are you?]

No reply.

He dialed again, and this time, the call was disconnected after ringing a few times.

Xie Qingyan's heart sank. He hailed a taxi and headed to Jiang Ci's house. At that moment, he couldn't care less about the threats from Jiang Cheng.

On the bus, he tried contacting Jiang Ci again, but to no avail. He opened the forum; the popular post had been deleted, but the discussion hadn't stopped. New posts kept appearing:

[It's said the person involved fainted at school today? They're probably feeling guilty.]

[Tang Li, who jumped off the building, is so pitiful. How can a murderer still be allowed to go to school?]

[Breaking news: Jiang Ci may have to drop out of school.]

My fingers tightened, and the phone screen emitted a faint blue light in the darkness.

Xie Qingyan closed his eyes. He remembered Wen Heng's words, Tang Li's photo, and the scar on Jiang Ci's wrist.

Then, he opened his eyes and registered a new account on the forum with the simple name "Qing".

He replied with a single sentence under the most popular post:

Before the truth is revealed, any unilateral accusation is disrespectful to the deceased and a secondary injury to the living. I believe in the law, I believe in time, and I believe justice will prevail.

send.

A few seconds later, replies flooded in:

Another one trying to whitewash the situation?

Who are you to Jiang Ci? Why are you protecting him like this?

[They probably took money, didn't they?]

Xie Qingyan didn't look at it anymore. He exited the forum, opened his chat window with Jiang Ci, and typed:

Jiang Ci, I've seen Wen Heng. I know everything.

So now, I'm even more certain of one thing—

I need you to live.

Tang Li needs you to live.

I need you to see with your own eyes those who hurt you pay the price.

【wait for me. 】

The taxi stopped at the entrance of the residential area, and Xie Qingyan paid the fare and got out.

He was very lucky this time. The security guard on duty was the same uncle as before. After explaining his purpose to the guard, the guard immediately opened the gate and let him in.

Xie Qingyan thanked him and walked quickly toward Jiang Ci's villa.

The night was deep, and a light was on in a room on the second floor of the villa—Jiang Ci's room.

Xie Qingyan stood downstairs, looking up at the window. The curtains were drawn, letting in a faint light.

He took out his phone and sent one last message:

I'm downstairs at your place.

If you don't come down, I'll keep waiting.

[I'll wait until you're willing to see me.]