Chapter 44
That anonymous long article was like a depth charge dropped under the ice, causing a silent shock but spreading fine cracks inside the solid ice.
When Xie Qingyan stepped into the classroom in the early morning, a subtle sense of stillness filled the air.
Those once probing and disdainful gazes now held a greater degree of hesitation and scrutiny. The whispers subsided as he entered, but did not completely cease, like the tiny bubbles left on the beach after the tide has receded.
Liang Ying was the first to approach, her phone screen displaying a screenshot of the article. Her eyes shone brightly behind her glasses: "Is this real? Those chat logs... are they really fake?"
Xie Qingyan did not answer directly. Instead, she calmly glanced at the several pairs of ears around her and asked, "Do you believe that technology does not lie, or do you believe more unfounded rumors?"
Liang Ying bit her lip, but her voice became more firm: "I believe the evidence. Besides, Jiang Ci doesn't seem like that kind of person."
"The truth requires evidence, and it also takes time." Xie Qingyan's voice was not loud, but it clearly echoed in the somewhat empty morning classroom. "But we are willing to wait, and we are worth being waited for."
These words were like a reassurance and a mirror, causing several classmates who were initially just watching the spectacle to show thoughtful expressions.
When Jiang Ci walked in, he clearly felt a different kind of pressure from the gazes directed at him. It was no longer an impenetrable wall, but rather a gap had appeared. He sat down with his usual expressionless face, and as he opened his English book, Xie Qingyan keenly noticed that the subtle trembling in his fingertips that had persisted for several days had almost disappeared.
Halfway through the morning reading session, the homeroom teacher, Ms. Mo, appeared at the back door and waved to Jiang Ci. The entire class fell silent instantly, all eyes turning to focus on that slender figure.
Jiang Ci stood up and walked out of the classroom. The click of the door closing was exceptionally clear to Xie Qingyan. He stared at the door, his palms slightly sweaty.
Five minutes felt like an eternity.
Jiang Ci returned, his face still pale, but deep in his eyes was a calm that had broken through the ice, even a hint of relief. He sat down and said in a voice only the two of them could hear, "The teacher in the academic affairs office asked if I published the article."
"how do you say?"
“I said no.” Jiang Ci paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing, his voice lowering even further, “But I gave them a backup of their real chat logs from back then. And…”
He took a deep breath, as if using all his strength to utter the following words:
"The last message Tang Li sent me was half an hour before he jumped off the building."
Xie Qingyan's heart felt like it was being gripped by an invisible hand: "What did he say?"
Jiang Ci's gaze fell on a point in the void, his voice so soft it was as if he were afraid of disturbing something: "Jiang Ci, live well. Look at the stars for me."
Eleven words. A single sentence of advice. This is the tender concern a young man left for his friends at the end of his life.
Xie Qingyan felt a lump in his throat. He recalled Jiang Ci's profile as he gazed at the starry sky that night; he realized that in that silent gazing upward, the weight of another life had always been borne.
“I haven’t dared to look at it, much less touch it,” Jiang Ci continued, his fingertips unconsciously tracing patterns on the table. “Yesterday, I exported everything on my phone related to that year. Just now, I handed it over to the academic affairs office.”
This wasn't tearing open the wound, but rather actively picking up a scalpel, scraping away the necrotic tissue, and confronting the deepest, most painful lesion. Xie Qingyan knew what this meant for Jiang Ci. This was the first time in three years that he was touching that scar not to avoid it, but to heal it.
During lunch break, Wen Heng's appearance was like a stone thrown into the pond of Class 12. This aloof and out-of-place boy stood at the door, his gaze precisely finding two people in the corner. The whole class fell silent for a moment, a mixture of emotions swirling in their eyes—curiosity, surprise, and a hint of anticipation.
The three of them walked in unison to the old locust tree behind the laboratory building. The winter wind swirled the withered leaves around their feet.
Wen Heng cut to the chase, his eyes behind his glasses rational and direct: "The article was your work. The technical analysis is excellent, but the virtual IP redirection path is too regular, like a deliberately left signature. Chen Jingming has knowledgeable people on his side who might be able to trace the source."
Jiang Ci frowned: "I've already dealt with it."
“But it’s not chaotic enough.” Wen Heng took a silver USB drive out of his bag and handed it over. “I’ve redone multiple layers of obfuscation and decoy paths to cover up the original traces. Also,” he looked at Jiang Ci, a hint of mixed apology in his eyes, “I found a retired teacher from the review committee back then, surnamed Zhao. He’s willing to testify that Chen Jingming’s application materials contained obvious fabrications and exaggerations in the scientific and technological innovation achievements section.”
Xie Qingyan perked up: "Can he provide evidence?"
“There are his handwritten memoirs and corroborating evidence from the internal discussions back then.” Wen Heng nodded, his tone solemn. “I have always regretted what happened to Tang Li. At the time, I chose the most cowardly option of silence. Now, I don’t want to make the same mistake twice.”
Jiang Ci remained silent for a long time, so long that a withered leaf swirled and landed on his shoulder. He finally spoke, his voice a little hoarse: "...Thank you."
“It’s not for you.” Wen Heng shook his head, his gaze fixed on the gray sky. “It’s for Tang Li, and also for the hurdle I can’t get over.”
He paused, then switched back to his efficient narrative style: "There are two more things. First, my father agrees that Wen's public interest legal team can provide you with advice. Second, regarding Zhou Long, his father's company, Longteng Construction, is bidding for a key greening project in the new district. If Zhou Long gets involved in a serious campus defamation incident, affecting the family's reputation assessment, it could become a target for competitors."
The information was clear and well-organized. Wen Heng used his genius-level scientific thinking to dissect a bloody and tearful old injustice into a modern battle that could be advanced step by step and even quantified.
Xie Qingyan suddenly remembered something: "Wen Heng, you mentioned that Tang Li's family donated astronomical equipment?"
“Yes. His parents are both science and engineering professors, from a well-off family, and very open-minded.” Wen Heng’s eyes dimmed. “After Tang Li’s accident, they sold their house and moved to the south, almost cutting off all contact with this place.”
"Could we try contacting them?" Xie Qingyan asked, her voice soft yet carrying immense weight. "We need to know their attitude. Even just a simple 'We don't blame Jiang Ci' could be a salvation for public opinion, for Jiang Ci himself..."
Jiang Ci's body tensed up suddenly, like a fully drawn bow.
Wen Heng paused for a moment, then understood Xie Qingyan's deeper meaning. He nodded solemnly: "I have their old email addresses and addresses. I... I'll give it a try."
In the afternoon Chinese class, when Teacher Long was explaining the biography of Qu Yuan and got to the part about "trusted yet doubted, loyal yet slandered," he suddenly changed the subject and looked at the whole class:
"Throughout history, how many innocences have been destroyed and how many futures ruined by the word 'slander'? Dear students, you live in the information age, you should know that 'public opinion' is not only terrifying, but can also kill people invisibly."
The classroom was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Li Ming muttered under his breath, "That depends on whether it's slander..."
Teacher Long's gaze swept over him sharply: "Li Ming, do you have a different opinion?"
Li Ming forced himself to stand up: "I... I just feel that some things... may not be baseless rumors."
"Oh?" Teacher Long pushed up his glasses. "Then let me ask you—if someone anonymously posts an accusation against you, Li Ming, for theft right now, but has no concrete evidence, relying only on a few 'I feel' or 'I heard' statements, what would you do?"
"I...of course I don't admit it! This is slander!"
"Then why do you assume that others should silently endure this 'slander'?" Teacher Long's tone was calm, but every word carried immense weight. "'Many voices can melt metal, and accumulated slander can destroy bones.' The ancients knew the poison of rumors long ago. You are students of the new era, and you should understand even more: do not comment without knowing the whole story; do not spread malicious words without evidence. This is the bottom line of being a decent human being, and it is also a respect for one's own judgment."
Li Ming sat down, his face flushed. These words were not only for him, but also for the whole class.
After class, Zhang Tao, the sports committee member—the tall boy who had once joined Li Ming in the commotion—sluggishly approached Jiang Ci's desk, scratching his head and looking away.
“Um… Jiang Ci,” he mumbled, “I also followed those posts on the forum before, I’m sorry.”
Jiang Ci looked up at him but didn't say anything.
Zhang Tao was even more embarrassed, and his speech quickened: "I thought about it later, and if you really, really did that, the school would have expelled you long ago. That article, I think, makes some sense." After saying that, he slipped back to his seat as if he were fleeing.
Xie Qingyan watched Zhang Tao's retreating figure and whispered to Jiang Ci, "Look, the ice is starting to melt."
"What?"
"The first person to publicly express doubt about the truth of the past." Xie Qingyan's gaze swept over the other hesitant faces in the classroom. "Prejudice in people's hearts is like a frozen lake, but as long as there is a crack, the sunlight will shine in, and the melting will begin. Next, perhaps the second, the third."
Jiang Ci remained silent, but his fingers gripped the pen with a slight pressure, his knuckles turning white. It wasn't nervousness, but rather a feeling of finally realizing that the ground beneath his feet was no longer quicksand, and a desire to gain a firm footing and exert his strength.
After school, the sandalwood incense in Moyunzhai was still there, but the atmosphere was somewhat different.
Mr. Shen sat in his old rattan chair, not touching the purple clay teapot, but slowly wiping an ancient bronze coin with a soft cloth. Seeing Xie Qingyan enter, he didn't even raise his eyelids, and slowly spoke:
"Xiao Xie, our quiet and scholarly place has recently attracted bugs."
Xie Qingyan's heart skipped a beat: "Boss Shen?"
“A few unfamiliar faces came twice this week. They didn’t read books, they just wanted to find out about you and that Jiang family kid. They even took pictures without permission.” Boss Shen said, pulling an envelope from his drawer and pushing it over. “The photos are here. As for the ones on their own phones, I made them ‘voluntarily’ delete them.”
Xie Qingyan opened the envelope; inside were several candid photos, taken at discreet angles. His face darkened.
Mr. Shen's gaze remained as sharp as ever. "In this old body of mine, there are two kinds of people I hate the most: those who bully the weak and those who call white black."
He paused, then looked Xie Qingyan up and down: "That child, you're determined to protect him?"
Xie Qingyan stood up straight and replied without hesitation, "Yes."
Even if there are wolves and tigers behind us?
Even if there are wolves and tigers behind us.
Boss Shen stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly grinned, his江湖气气 (jianghu qi, a kind of chivalrous spirit) instantly overshadowing his scholarly air: "Alright! Then this old man will also stretch his muscles."
He bent down, pulled a worn hardcover notebook from under the wicker chair, turned to a page, and scratched a phone number heavily with his fingernail: "My old friend, before retiring, was the chief investigative reporter for the Provincial Legal Daily, surnamed Qin, bad-tempered, stubborn, and only good at tackling tough problems. Your materials are enough for him to write a big article."
Investigative journalist. Media exposure.
This means the battleground will expand directly from campuses and the internet to the level of social oversight. Both the influence and the risks will increase exponentially.
Xie Qingyan's heart pounded like a drum: "Boss Shen, isn't this making too much noise?"
"A big commotion?" Boss Shen closed his notebook, his eyes deep. "Kid, you have to understand. Some dirty things hiding in the shadows will hide even further in the darkness if you shine a flashlight on them. You have to bring the sun in, expose them so they have nowhere to hide, and let everyone see what they are. Chen Jingming's connections and Zhou Long's dad's stinking money are nothing but a fart in the real sunlight!"
He patted Xie Qingyan on the shoulder, his touch firm: "Give him the materials without worry. But you guys need to be careful. Protect yourselves and that child too."
Late at night, only a desk lamp was lit in Jiang Ci's room.
On the computer screen was an encrypted file package sent by Wen Heng. Opening it revealed a clear and firm recording of Teacher Zhao's testimony, as well as a clear scan of the official environmental penalty document from Chen Jingming's father's company that had been suppressed years ago. The evidence was irrefutable.
"This is enough to initiate a review process regarding Chen Jingming's admission without examination." Jiang Ci's voice trembled slightly, not from fear, but from excitement. "If the cheating is confirmed..."
"He will be utterly disgraced, and his degree may even be revoked," Xie Qingyan added, his gaze intense.
Jiang Ci stared at the cold words and images on the screen for a long time, then asked softly, as if asking Tang Li, but also as if asking himself: "Will he feel relieved by doing this?"
Xie Qingyan grasped his cold hand and tightened it: "He will feel that his friends finally have the power to seek justice for him. His death has not become an accomplice to eternal silence and slander."
Just then—
Jiang Ci's phone screen suddenly lit up, glaringly bright in the dimly lit room. It was a text message from an unfamiliar number in the south.
The message was brief, yet it instantly froze Jiang Ci, his pupils contracted, and the phone slipped from his trembling fingers.
Xie Qingyan caught it with lightning speed and looked at the screen. There was only one line of text:
[Jiang Ci, this is Tang Li's mother. Xiao Heng contacted us. His father and I would like to meet you. Is this a convenient time for you?]
The air in the room seemed to freeze. The light from the desk lamp flickered on Jiang Ci's pale face. His breathing stopped, and he felt as if all his strength had been drained away in an instant, or as if he had been struck by an invisible hammer.
Xie Qingyan's heart clenched painfully. He looked at Jiang Ci, his voice barely audible: "Are you... going?"
Jiang Ci closed his eyes. His thick eyelashes trembled violently. A few seconds later, he opened his eyes, and from the bottomless vortex of pain in his eyes, a kind of almost tragic determination gradually rose.
"Go." That one word carried immense weight.
He had to go. To face the parents who had lost their only son because of him, to endure whatever judgment might befall them—whether it be tears of resentment, desperate accusations, or anything else he dared not even hope for.
Xie Qingyan immediately said, "I'll go with you."
“No.” Jiang Ci shook his head, his voice hoarse yet exceptionally clear and firm. He turned to look at Xie Qingyan, his eyes holding a light that Xie Qingyan had never seen before, a light that blended vulnerability and strength. “Xie Qingyan, you gave me the courage and reason to stand up again. But some paths and some debts must be faced and repaid by myself.”
He grasped Xie Qingyan's hand; his fingertips were icy cold, yet the strength was astonishing.
"Your presence is my escape route. But please let me walk this part of the road by myself."
——
Outside the window, the night was as dark as ink, and all was silent.
But beneath this heavy darkness, undercurrents are already surging:
On the other side of the city, a retired investigative journalist slammed his fist on the table as he looked at the materials that had been sent to him, his eyes behind his reading glasses sharp as an eagle's.
In a remote southern town, a middle-aged couple sat facing each other in silence, tears streaming down their faces. Finally, the wife's trembling fingers pressed the send button.
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