Chapter 40
Go abroad?
Jiang Ci looked at him, her voice hoarse: "I've said it before, I don't want to go abroad."
"Whether you want to or not is not important." Jiang Cheng shoved the document into his hand. "What's important is that you can no longer stay here and hang out with those shady characters."
"Xie Qingyan is not a shady person, and you said that as long as we cut off contact, you would not send me abroad."
"Oh?" Jiang Cheng sneered. "Then tell me, who was that guy he was with today?"
Jiang Ci froze.
"Wen Heng," Jiang Cheng slowly uttered the name. "That Wen family son who was almost implicated by you, if you really cut ties with Xie Qingyan, how could Wen Heng be hanging out with Xie Qingyan? Jiang Ci, do you think that harming Tang Li wasn't enough, and you also want to drag Wen Heng and that Xie Qingyan down with you?"
Tang Li... These two words were like a sharp knife, piercing Jiang Ci's heart.
"I don't--"
"Enough." Jiang Cheng interrupted him, his eyes as cold as knives. "Next weekend, I'll arrange to meet Xie Qingyan's parents. There are some things that need to be made clear."
The door was slammed shut.
Jiang Ci stood there, the TOEFL score report in his hand like a red-hot iron, making his fingers tremble.
The afterglow had completely vanished, and the night was as dark as ink, swallowing up the last glimmer of light.
——
On Wednesday morning, the city was shrouded in a sudden thick fog. The school buildings looked like isolated islands floating in a milky white sea, with fine water droplets condensing on the windowpanes.
When Xie Qingyan entered the classroom, she felt something was wrong.
It was too quiet. Not the usual languid quiet before morning reading, but a tense, restrained, and voyeuristic silence. A few students huddled together, whispering, but scattered immediately when he entered, their eyes darting away.
Jiang Ci's seat was empty.
Xie Qingyan put down his schoolbag and glanced at the thick, impenetrable fog outside the window. He took out his phone and sent a message to Jiang Ci:
Have you arrived at school yet?
There was no reply. The chat history was still stuck on the message he sent last night, "See you tomorrow," and Jiang Ci hadn't responded.
Five minutes before the morning reading bell rang, the back door was pushed open.
Jiang Ci walked in.
He was wearing his school uniform, his hair was a little messy, his face was sickly pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes. But he walked steadily, looking straight ahead as he crossed the aisle and sat down in his seat. He didn't look at Xie Qingyan, he didn't look at anyone else.
As he sat down, Xie Qingyan noticed that his hand on the table was trembling slightly.
"Jiang Ci," Xie Qingyan asked in a low voice, "Are you alright?"
Jiang Ci didn't answer. He lowered his head and took a book out of his bag, his movements as mechanical as a programmed robot. He took out his physics textbook, opened it, and his gaze fell on a certain page—but Xie Qingyan saw that it was a blank title page.
What was he looking at? Or rather, he wasn't looking at anything at all.
The morning reading session began. The English class representative led the reading, and the clear, melodious voices of the students drowned out the subtle abnormalities.
But Xie Qingyan sensed it. Those subtle, almost imperceptible gazes coming from all directions. Like countless fine needles, they pierced Jiang Ci's back, and also pierced his own sensory nerves.
——
During math class, Xie Qingyan tried to concentrate, but her eyes kept glancing at Jiang Ci. Jiang Ci sat upright, pen in hand, writing in his notebook. But Xie Qingyan noticed that he wasn't writing formulas.
It's the same character, repeated over and over:
Redeem redeem redeem redeem
At first, the strokes were neat, but gradually, the characters began to distort and overlap, with black ink covering them again and again. Finally, a desperate blackness spread out in the center of the character, like a black hole that swallows everything, or like a drop of dried blood.
His wrist was taut, his knuckles white from the force, as if he wasn't writing with a pen, but rather using all his strength to carve that word, along with all the weight it represented, into his bones.
The bell rang, and the teacher had just stepped out of the classroom when a suppressed gasp suddenly came from the back of the classroom.
"Holy crap..." It was Zhang Qiang's voice, "You guys, check the forum!"
Several boys immediately crowded around. Li Ming snatched the phone, looked at it for a few seconds, and whistled, "That's really exciting!"
Xie Qingyan's heart tightened. He took out his phone and opened the school's anonymous forum—no need to search, the first post highlighted in red on the homepage had an eye-catching title:
[A deep dive into the dark past of transfer student Jiang Ci: Not only did he harass upperclassmen, but he also caused the death of a classmate!]
Posted at 3:00 AM.
The post was long and included pictures. The first half reiterated the old rumors of "harassing a senior," with several blurry chat screenshots and blurred profile pictures. The second half, however, took a sudden and sinister turn:
"Many people probably don't know this, but Jiang Ci indirectly caused the death of a classmate named Tang Li at his old school. The reason? It's said that Tang Li discovered Jiang Ci's true colors and tried to expose him, but was cyberbullied to the point of committing suicide by jumping off a building. Here's a picture of Tang Li before his death; what a sunny boy he was..."
The photo loads.
He was a boy with a bright smile, wearing a basketball uniform and holding a basketball, standing in the sunlight. He had bright eyes and a small mole on the corner of his mouth.
The next photo shows the same boy lying in a flowerbed at a funeral home, his face ashen and with stitches on his forehead. The caption reads: "Tang Li, rest in peace. The real culprit is still at large."
The last picture is a photoshopped version of the sunny photo—the boy's eyes are painted blood red, black liquid drips from the corner of his mouth, and the words are written in blood-red lettering on his face:
"Jiang Ci, can you sleep at night?"
The classroom was deathly silent.
Everyone looked at Jiang Ci.
Jiang Ci didn't move. He remained seated, back ramrod straight, hands clenched into fists on his knees. But from Xie Qingyan's angle, he could see the muscles in Jiang Ci's neck were taut like stone, and the veins in his temples were throbbing.
His eyes were fixed on the table, with an abnormal sheen of water on the surface of his eyeballs, but no focus.
What was he looking at? Xie Qingyan followed his gaze—it was a piece of paper with countless "redemption" characters written on it.
Xie Qingyan opened her mouth as if to say something, but the class bell rang abruptly, temporarily silencing the murmurs.
In physics class, the teacher was explaining the conservation of momentum when Jiang Ci suddenly stood up.
The movement was abrupt, and the chair legs scraped against the floor with a screeching sound. The whole class fell silent, and the teacher stopped explaining.
"Jiang Ci?" The teacher frowned.
Jiang Ci didn't speak. He turned and walked towards the back door of the classroom. His steps were steady, but his posture was stiff, like a puppet being manipulated by strings.
"Jiang Ci!" the teacher raised his voice.
He didn't turn around, but went straight to open the door and walked out.
Xie Qingyan stood up almost simultaneously: "Teacher, I'll go see him."
Before the teacher could respond, he had already chased after her.
The corridor was empty. Jiang Ci didn't go to the restroom or the office, but went straight to the stairs—going up.
The direction of the laboratory building.
Xie Qingyan felt as if his heart was being gripped by an icy hand. He quickened his pace, caught up with Jiang Ci at the corner of the stairs, and grabbed his wrist.
"Jiang Ci!"
Jiang Ci's wrist was icy cold, and he could feel the clear outline of his bones beneath his skin. He stopped and slowly turned his head.
His eyes were empty.
It wasn't anger, it wasn't sadness, it wasn't any emotion that could be named. It was a complete, utterly despairing nothingness. His pupils were dilated, unable to reflect Xie Qingyan's face, unable to reflect anything at all.
"Jiang Ci," Xie Qingyan said softly, as if afraid of startling something, "Where are you going?"
Jiang Ci stared at him for a long time, as if trying to identify him. Then he spoke, his voice dry and hoarse, like sandpaper scraping:
"Go pay off your debts."
"What debt?"
Jiang Ci slowly turned his head, his eyes finally regaining some focus, but that focus was a bottomless, chilling darkness. He twitched his lips as if to laugh, but only a breath escaped his lips:
"...one life."
These three words, as light as a sigh, were so heavy that they instantly chilled Xie Qingyan to the bone.
One life.
This wasn't just one incident, not just a mistake; it was the loss of a living, breathing human life. This was beyond Xie Qingyan's entire understanding of wrongdoing across two lifetimes. Cheating in the imperial examinations was a serious crime, but causing the death of a classmate was the most untouchable abyss in his Confucian ethics.
Xie Qingyan's fingers tightened. He felt Jiang Ci's wrist trembling slightly, not from fear, but from some kind of internal breakdown.
“I’ll help you pay it back,” Xie Qingyan said, pronouncing each word clearly.
Jiang Ci smiled. The smile was faint, as faint as foam on the surface of water, easily shattered.
“You can’t pay me back,” he said. “Nobody can.”
He tried to pull his hand away, but Xie Qingyan held it tightly.
"Then tell me, what kind of debt is it?" Xie Qingyan stared into his eyes. "Tell me, who is Tang Li?"
Upon hearing the name "Tang Li," Jiang Ci's pupils contracted sharply. He jerked his hand back as if burned, took a step back, and slammed his back against the wall.
His breathing became rapid and shallow. He raised his hand to his chest, his mouth open, but no sound came out—a precursor to a panic attack.
"Jiang Ci, breathe." Xie Qingyan stepped forward and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Look at me, breathe with me—inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale..."
Jiang Ci's eyes remained vacant, but his body instinctively rose and fell with Xie Qingyan's rhythm. A few minutes later, his breathing calmed down slightly, but he felt as if all his strength had been drained, and he slid down the wall to the ground.
Xie Qingyan squatted down in front of him.
The two faced each other at the empty corner of the staircase. The misty sunlight streaming through the window above cast a dark shadow on Jiang Ci's face.
“Jiang Ci,” Xie Qingyan said softly, “whatever that is, I’m here.”
Jiang Ci closed her eyes. Tears slid down silently, not from sobbing, but from physiological tears, overflowing from her tightly closed eyes and flowing down her pale cheeks.
He didn't make a sound.
But Xie Qingyan heard it—it was the roar of a soul during an avalanche, a roar that only the closest people could perceive.
Soon, the homeroom teacher, Mr. Mo, arrived. Upon seeing Jiang Ci's condition, he hurriedly said, "What are you standing there for? Quickly take him to the school clinic."
Xie Qingyan then realized what was happening and, together with the homeroom teacher, helped Jiang Ci to the school clinic.
After examining the patient, the school doctor concluded: "Physiological indicators are normal. However, regarding the psychological state... it is recommended to immediately notify the parents and seek evaluation from a professional institution."
Jiang Ci lay on the white hospital bed, staring at the ceiling with her eyes open. Her tears had stopped, and her face was expressionless, like a cold marble statue.
Xie Qingyan sat on a chair by the bed, holding his hand. Jiang Ci didn't respond, but he didn't pull away either.
The door to the infirmary was pushed open, and Mr. Wang, the grade head, hurried in with a serious expression. He glanced at Jiang Ci and then called Ms. Mo and Xie Qingyan outside.
"The school has already contacted the network administrator to handle the forum post," Teacher Wang said in a low voice, "but it's spreading too fast, and many off-campus forums are also sharing it. Xie Qingyan, do you know what's going on?"
Xie Qingyan shook her head: "I don't know everything. But I don't believe those accusations."
Teacher Wang sighed: "This is a very serious matter...it involves a life. The school must investigate thoroughly. Jiang Ci's father has also been notified and is on his way."
Xie Qingyan's heart sank.
“Teacher,” he looked up, “please protect Jiang Ci until the truth is revealed.”
Teacher Mo looked at him, her eyes filled with complex emotions: "Xie Qingyan, you are a good boy. But sometimes, there are things that we can't protect just because we want to."
Footsteps came from the end of the corridor, heavy and hurried.
Jiangcheng has arrived.
He was dressed in a sharp suit, his face ashen, and a man who looked like a secretary followed behind him. When he saw Xie Qingyan, his eyes were as cold as ice blades.
"What are you doing here?" Jiang Cheng's voice was cold.
"I……"
"Get out." Jiang Cheng interrupted him, then looked at Teacher Mo. "Teacher Mo, I want to talk to my son alone."
Xie Qingyan did not move.
Jiang Cheng narrowed his eyes: "Should I have security escort you out?"
“Mr. Jiang,” Xie Qingyan straightened up, her voice calm yet firm, “Jiang Ci’s condition is very unstable right now; he needs—”
"What he needs is to stay away from people like you!" Jiang Cheng suddenly raised his voice, his suppressed anger bursting forth. "Didn't you see what happened to Tang Li? Wen Heng almost got caught up in it too! Now you're provoking my son—do you want him dead before you're satisfied?!"
"I didn't provoke him." Xie Qingyan met his gaze. "We're friends."
"Friends?" Jiang Cheng sneered, taking a step closer, his voice low and filled with undisguised malice. "Tang Li was his friend back then, and what happened? He jumped off a building! Jiang Ci is a jinx; anyone who gets close to him will meet a bad end! His mother was cursed to death by him; only that Wen family kid was lucky enough to escape. If you have any brains, you should stay away from him!"
Every word was like a poisoned arrow, aimed at the silent person on the hospital bed.
Xie Qingyan noticed that Jiang Ci's fingers curled slightly.
“Mr. Jiang,” Xie Qingyan took a deep breath, “I don’t know about Tang Li. But I do know that Jiang Ci is not a jinx. He is a victim.”
"Victim?" Jiang Cheng laughed as if he had heard the biggest joke in the world. "When he killed someone, why didn't he say he was a victim? Let me tell you, Xie Qingyan, this is not over. If you dare to get close to my son again, I won't hesitate to make you pay the price."
A blatant threat.
Xie Qingyan clenched her fist.
Just then, a very soft sound came from the hospital bed:
"……dad."
Jiang Cheng and Xie Qingyan turned their heads at the same time.
Jiang Ci sat up at some point. His face was as pale as paper, but his eyes were no longer empty; instead, they held a kind of almost desperate clarity.
He looked at Jiang Cheng, speaking each word clearly:
Was Tang Li's death my fault?
Jiang Cheng was stunned.
"Did I forge those chat logs from back then?" Jiang Ci continued, his voice soft yet sharp like a blade scraping against glass. "When everyone was calling me a pervert and disgusting, did you stand up for me and say a single word?"
“Now you’re calling me a jinx, saying I brought my mother to her death,” Jiang Ci forced a smile that was more like a grimace. “And what about you? Besides locking me up, planning to send me abroad, and making me disappear, what else have you done? Aren’t you also afraid of being cursed to death by me?”
Jiang Cheng's face turned from pale to ashen, his lips trembling: "You...you dare to talk to me like that?"
"Why wouldn't I dare?" Jiang Ci slowly got out of bed and stood barefoot on the cold floor. "I have nothing left to lose."
He looked at Xie Qingyan, his eyes filled with complex emotions that were difficult to decipher.
Then he walked toward the door.
"Where are you going?!" Jiang Cheng roared.
Jiang Ci didn't turn around: "Go home. Or go where I should go."
Xie Qingyan chased after him, saying, "Jiang Ci, let me see you off."
"No need." Jiang Ci stopped and turned his back to him. "Xie Qingyan, stay away from me. What they said on the forum is right. Anyone who gets close to me will not have a good ending."
After he finished speaking, he opened the door and stepped into the shadows of the corridor.
Xie Qingyan didn't chase after Jiang Ci. He stood there, watching the door slowly close, watching Jiang Cheng's angry departure, and watching Teacher Mo rubbing her temples wearily.
Then, he took out his phone and dialed Wen Heng's number.
The phone rang for a long time before it was answered.
“Wen Heng,” Xie Qingyan said, her voice unusually clear in the empty infirmary, “tell me, who is Tang Li?”
There was silence on the other end of the phone.
“And also,” Xie Qingyan added, each word like a weight on a scale, “what exactly did Jiang Ci mean by ‘one life’?”
Wen Heng's heavy breathing came through the receiver.
Outside the window, the thick fog gradually dissipated, revealing the blood-red sky at dusk.
The faint sound of an ambulance siren drifted from afar, approaching and then receding again, like some kind of ominous metaphor.
Wen Heng finally spoke, his voice terribly hoarse:
"...Where are you? Let's talk when we meet."
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