Chapter 14 – Evidence

Qiong Cang’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. Her instincts told her that a new character appearing at a moment like this wouldn’t bring anything good, and she wasn’t exactly skilled at handling family dynamics.

“Wang Dongyan!” Ms. Wang hurled her handbag roughly onto the sofa and strode over barefoot, her voice thick with undisguised fury. “What exactly are you trying to do!”

Her direct explosion actually made Qiong Cang more comfortable. Being yelled at like that, even the tension in her shoulders eased.

Ms. Wang rushed up to her, her face twisted with a kind of manic agitation. The scent of cosmetics drifted over with her movement, along with her stormy tirade.

“The school called me several times today. You’ve really outdone yourself, Wang Dongyan. Skipping class, fighting, publicly challenging the school administration, even slandering the school and causing campus-wide panic. What do you want? Are you trying to make everyone’s life difficult?” Ms. Wang raked her fingers through her bangs. “I work myself to the bone to earn money and support you. What do I ask of you? All I want is for you to behave yourself at school. Is that so hard? Huh? Is it that hard?! Can’t you show me a little consideration!”

Qiong Cang took an unnoticeable step back, maintaining a certain social distance, and said, “What I said wasn’t slander. It was the truth. They couldn’t refute me, so they came to you.”

“You still think you didn’t do anything wrong? How many incidents have you caused since the start of senior year? Are you ever going to stop? Can’t you rein it in a little?” Ms. Wang said hysterically. “Do you have any idea what kind of looks I have to endure at work because of what happened with your classmate? And you keep stirring things up. Do you have to give people something to gossip about?”

Qiong Cang said, “Zhou Nansong didn’t die because of me. That’s exactly what I’m trying to prove. From start to finish, it’s been deliberate manipulation by the school.”

Ms. Wang: “Prove what? You don’t need to prove anything, just study! You can’t convince everyone. The more you jump around, the more they’ll think you have no empathy, that you’re just deflecting responsibility. Just let it pass, all right!”

Qiong Cang looked at her and spaced out for a moment. After a brief silence, she lowered her head and pressed her lips together, carefully choosing her words. “Why? There’s a serious scandal at the school. Zhou Nansong died because she knew the truth. It’s not something that just goes away if I stay out of it. No one’s stopping. Those people will keep going.”

Ms. Wang let out a couple of strangled cries that sounded somewhere between weeping and laughter, then said, “Even if that’s true, so what? Do you have evidence? Without evidence, it’s nothing but slander! The school administrators are all old foxes. You think you can gain anything by fighting them?”

Qiong Cang said, “What I want is the truth, not gain.”

“And how do you plan to get the truth? Sue them? Do you still want to go to school?” Ms. Wang’s chest heaved violently. She jabbed her arm toward one side. “Go outside and ask around. Ask the people on the street whether they’d believe those sanctimonious, respectable intellectuals, or whether they’d believe you with your history of violence!”

Qiong Cang tried her best to calm her down and spoke clearly. “I’m not violent. You should believe me.”

“What good does it do if I believe you? I’m exhausted!” Ms. Wang couldn’t listen at all. She cut her off almost before she’d finished. She raised a finger and wagged it in front of Qiong Cang’s face. “You have one month left. One month! If the school wants to ruin you, forget one month. They could destroy your whole future in a single day! What school would dare take you after that? Can you stop being so naive?”

“Naive?” Qiong Cang laughed just as mockingly. “Even someone who isn’t naive wouldn’t stay calm after learning they abuse their authority at school and sexually assault underprivileged students.”

Ms. Wang’s explosive emotions were forcibly cut short. Her eyelids fluttered rapidly as she studied Qiong Cang with a probing gaze. Once she was certain it wasn’t a joke, she unconsciously swallowed.

“It’s not just one,” Qiong Cang said, word by word. “Multiple victims. Long-term, systematic, extremely egregious sexual assault.”

It was as if most of Ms. Wang’s strength had been drained away, exhaustion instantly washing over her. She turned in a disoriented circle where she stood, then raised a hand and mussed her hair even more chaotically.

Her deliberation didn’t actually last long. Or rather, her years of life experience had already supplied her with the optimal answer in the very first moment. It was only her inner sense of social morality that gave her a brief moment of hesitation.

Ms. Wang faced Wang Dongyan again and said sternly, “If so many people are involved, why haven’t those people come forward themselves? Because they don’t want this exposed either. Do you think they’ll thank you for doing something like this? They’ll hate you! You’re just being self-righteous, don’t you understand!”

Qiong Cang: “I don’t know if they’ll thank me. But those who haven’t been hurt yet certainly don’t want to face something like this in the future.”

The rhythm of their conversation slowed. Ms. Wang needed time to think before she could speak her next sentence.

After a moment, Ms. Wang asked, “How do you know?”

Qiong Cang seemed not to have heard clearly. “What did you say?”

Ms. Wang’s tone grew certain, as if she’d convinced herself. She said, “Do you know how terrifying the sickness of poverty is? Those people have money and power. What leaks from between their fingers is more than others can scrape together in a lifetime. How do you know they weren’t willing? Once you’re out in society, the same rules apply, and it’s only crueler, more ruthless. Effort doesn’t always get rewarded.”

As she spoke, she grew more and more resolute, her voice rising. “You’re naive. You don’t understand. Without opportunities like this, how would they get guaranteed university admission? How would they survive? How would they study? How could they have such a bright future? Even if you laid out the conditions in front of them and let them choose for themselves, they might not necessarily refuse.”

The absurdity was so extreme that Qiong Cang actually laughed. “What did you say?”

Ms. Wang pointed at her own chest and said, “What I’m saying is harsh, but it’s reality! I’m definitely not the only one who thinks this way, and it’s definitely not a minority! Don’t stick your nose into other people’s business. Listen to me.”

“Really?” Qiong Cang lowered her head and chuckled softly, her laughter deeply sardonic. “Do weather-beaten adults enjoy imposing their self-righteous life lessons on young people, watching those who were once bright and positive become as lifeless as you are, and then feel proud and self-satisfied about it?”

Ms. Wang: “So you’re proud of that? You’re proud because you don’t understand how society works! Your bones are just filled with naivety!”

Qiong Cang asked, “Does maturity mean apathy? Does being realistic mean being right? What have humans been fighting against through all these long millennia of survival? It wasn’t so we could all assimilate into each other and sink together, was it? In your eyes, are only the lucky ones worthy of living?”

Qiong Cang shook her head, feeling she couldn’t stay in this place any longer. She hitched her backpack up and slipped past from the side.

“Looks like we’re not suited for conversation. I’m leaving.”

“If you leave, don’t you come back!” Ms. Wang shouted, her voice choking. “Don’t you threaten me, I’m telling you! Wang Dongyan, you’re just a high school student. This has nothing to do with you. Don’t go wading into this kind of mess! Don’t go spouting nonsense out there! Wang Dongyan!”

Qiong Cang didn’t look back. Her only answer was a heavy, decisive slam of the door. Through the door panel, Ms. Wang’s hoarse wailing faintly seeped out from inside. Qiong Cang closed her eyes.

Once she reached the street, Qiong Cang glanced at the Suicide Progress. A vivid red 99% hung in her line of sight.

…Thanks. So kind. She still left her one point. How generous.

Qiong Cang raised a hand and roughly scrubbed her face. This time she truly felt the urgency of a terminally ill patient.

Having witnessed that argument, the atmosphere in the Live Stream Room grew heavy. Even the people who normally joked around became fewer.

They could easily accuse Wang Dongyan’s mother of selfishness. But after watching so many 【Case Analysis】s, they also understood that most people aren’t so noble. In many situations, harshly condemning one particular person doesn’t actually change the outcome, because the flaw originates from the broader social environment itself.

“Never seen the boss with that kind of expression.”

“The ones closest to you hurt the deepest. And just like that it shot up to 99%. What’s left is just a single thought away. The system’s really ruthless with its harvesting this time.”

“In suicide cases, isn’t there still a murderer? I think there is. And the murderer is even more chilling than in ordinary cases, because most people don’t feel they’ve done anything wrong.”

“How many idealistic people are wounded by reality? And how much of that so-called reality is just mature people’s self-righteousness?”

“But you can’t deny that what she said reflects a widespread voice in society. Good people not getting rewarded is hardly uncommon.”

“People who’ve experienced misfortune grow more afraid of trouble, afraid of failing, afraid of stirring things up. All walks of life, indeed.”

·

Qiong Cang first went to a nearby hardware store and bought a small shovel. She put it in her bag and took a bus to the school.

By the time she returned to the school grounds, the sky had already turned a dusky grey. Qiong Cang gripped her flashlight and headed to the empty lot near the dormitory building Zhou Nansong had mentioned, searching for the evidence she had buried.

When Zhou Nansong buried the photos, it had been March. It was now May.

Qiong Cang stared at the patch of indistinct barren land before her, rubbed her neck, and muttered, “This is going to be a massive undertaking…”

Qiong Cang had prepared herself for an all-nighter, but was still a bit apprehensive. Worried the batteries wouldn’t last, she had brought three flashlights outright and two large boxes of reserve batteries.

She set the flashlights up at the edges, grabbed the small shovel, and started digging in various spots.

This area was sparsely trafficked, separated from the dormitory building by a foul drainage ditch. Normally no students ever came here. It was indeed a very safe place.

Qiong Cang didn’t know how deep Zhou Nansong had dug. She only guessed that given her mental state at the time, she might have dug a large pit. So Qiong Cang conscientiously turned the soil.

Night finally settled in completely.

The clouds were heavy today. The moon remained hidden behind their layers, casting no light at all.

The barren land was open and silent. Looking up, one could see the mountain ridges in the distance forming a stretch of dark silhouettes, quietly occupying the horizon.

The night wind wove ceaselessly through the shadows of the trees, the sound of cicadas mingled within.

The light from the flashlights slowly dimmed from bright. After changing the batteries, it brightened again from dim.

When the time on her phone clicked past one in the morning, Qiong Cang finally unearthed a still relatively new metal box.

She gasped for breath, sat down unceremoniously on the dirt ground, and opened the box.

Inside the metal box was a used digital camera, its memory card and battery beside it. A power bank had even been thoughtfully included.

Qiong Cang reassembled the components, tested it, and found the residual charge was still enough to power on the camera.

Having searched for so long and finally found this item, Qiong Cang was undoubtedly excited. She pulled up the photo album and began flipping through them one by one.

The screen in the Live Stream Room showed only a string of mosaics, but Qiong Cang could see the original photos.

The photos showed various bodies intertwined, the girls’ faces all captured with sharp clarity. Some clearly had unfocused, dazed eyes, apparently unconscious or confused. Others were lucid, but their lucidity was laced with pain.

And not a single man in any of the images showed anything above the neck.

Having mental preparation was one thing. Witnessing it with her own eyes was something else entirely.

The blunt imagery hit Qiong Cang so hard her pupils trembled. Her breathing grew heavy.

She licked her lips, forced herself to stay calm, and hunched her back to get a clearer look.

Judging from the men’s moles, body fat, bone structure, and other distinct features, the number of individuals involved was at least five. From the image formats, it appeared they had been taken with different devices.

Which meant they were sharing among themselves internally. Possibly through a chat group or some other means. Such camaraderie among like-minded individuals would excite them.

After committing crimes persistently, people truly do become bolder and bolder, until they descend into complete madness.

This group’s entertainment threshold had escalated to a terrifying level. In their pursuit of thrills, they would seek new methods. If left to develop unchecked, they would only cause even more irreversible consequences.

Qiong Cang listened to her heartbeat pounding violently in her chest. Her unnaturally trembling hand tapped to the next photo with steady rhythm. When she reached the middle, she saw Xu Manyan without surprise.

That young, pretty girl, who at first glance seemed to carry a hint of assertiveness, looked completely different in the photos.

This was the only person Qiong Cang was personally familiar with in the game. She found it profoundly tragic.

Qiong Cang was too absorbed to notice the muffled footsteps on the grass-covered mud. Only when a shadow flickered at the edge of her flashlight beam did she realize someone was already standing right beside her.

A violent shudder ran through her. She shoved the camera into her jacket and whipped her head around—only to have a club crack down on the back of her skull.

“Ah…”

Qiong Cang grunted, one hand flying to the wound while the other still clutched the camera.

She squinted through involuntary tears of pain at the shadow that had materialized. The flashlight’s dim yellow glow played unsteadily across the other girl’s pale face, where a swirl of tangled emotions gathered in her eyes and spilled down as a cold, watery gleam.

“Xiang Qingxi…” Qiong Cang ground out through clenched teeth. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Give it to me.” Xiang Qingxi was weeping even more pitifully than she was, pleading, “Dongyan, give it to me!”

Qiong Cang said, “The way you’re handling this is wrong!”

Xiang Qingxi tossed the stick aside and lunged for the object in her hands.

“Why do you keep investigating? We agreed this was over. People will die if you go on like this!” Xiang Qingxi summoned a surge of desperate strength, prying Qiong Cang’s fingers open and wrestling violently. “I’m begging you, please, please. Give it to me!”

“If you run away, fear will chase you forever, no matter how many years pass.” Qiong Cang looked at her with deep, inexpressible emotion, her voice rising. “Responsibility can be a chain, but it can also be a kind of redemption. If you won’t shoulder it, you’ll never be free. Why can’t you be brave right now? Why can’t you be brave!”

Xiang Qingxi screamed hoarsely, “What good would bravery do! The first one who’ll die isn’t them—it’s Yanzi! Yanzi, do you believe me? She’s gambled away everything. She has no future! Do you understand? She did it all for me! Just let her go!”

Qiong Cang: “This isn’t helping her, and I’m not trying to hurt her. Think further ahead!”

“Ah—stop it!” Xiang Qingxi shrieked, pressing down on Qiong Cang’s head and shoving her sideways.

The small shovel Qiong Cang had bought was lying nearby. Too weak to resist, she crashed straight into it. Fortunately, the shovel hadn’t been sharp to begin with, and after all that digging, it was caked in mud and thoroughly blunted.

By then, Qiong Cang felt no pain, only the sensation of liquid sliding down her forehead.

Xiang Qingxi didn’t notice her condition and seized the chance to snatch the camera back.

“Sorry… sorry…” Xiang Qingxi muttered, clutching the camera to her chest and backing away step by step. “Sorry… Dongyan… just let it go!”

Qiong Cang forced her eyes open and watched the figure flee in panic through her blurred vision.

That silhouette overlapped with a scene from her memory. Darkness descended once more. Qiong Cang pressed her violently trembling hands to her head and let out a few agonized groans from deep in her throat.

After a long while, she steadied a little, pulling herself free from the cold sweat that soaked her.

She shifted position and lay on the ground, sinking into a prolonged daze. Then, suddenly, she remembered something. She fumbled for her phone on the ground, found the pinned contact, and dialed.

“Beep… beep…” The electronic tone was startlingly clear in the night.

Before the third ring, the other side picked up.

“Hello.” A lively male voice instantly dispelled the chill of the darkness.

The light in Qiong Cang’s eyes flickered. She murmured, “He Jueyun…”

There was a noticeable pause on He Jueyun’s end before he spoke. “Why are you using my real name? Good thing the game can mask it, right?”

Qiong Cang almost never made phone calls; she always used texts.

He Jueyun turned up his volume. All he could hear through the receiver was a faint, shallow breath, and the sound of wind.

He softened his voice. “Where are you?”

Qiong Cang coughed before answering. “School.”

He Jueyun threw on his clothes, grabbed his keys, and bolted out the door, still asking in that gentle tone, “Where at the school?”

Qiong Cang answered meekly, “The open ground behind the dorms.”

He Jueyun: “I’m on my way now. How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” Qiong Cang’s voice came out muffled. “Just tired.”

He Jueyun started the engine. “I’m coming. Wait ten minutes… make it five. Just talk about whatever… even a joke. I’ll take one for the team.”

He didn’t ask what had happened, and he didn’t hang up. He simply set the phone on its mount and sped over, patient and gentlemanly throughout.

Qiong Cang didn’t speak either. She stared at the green connected icon on her screen, listened to the faint sounds coming through, and felt inexplicably at ease. She pillowed her head on her arms and closed her eyes.

·

He Jueyun vaulted over the wall and sprinted toward the back hill, putting up the best cross-country performance of his life.

Several streetlights at First High School were broken. The light cut off completely near the back hill, and deeper in, there were no light sources at all. Wild grass along the path grew half a meter tall, swaying faintly in shadowy undulations.

He Jueyun paid none of it any mind. Running at top speed, his ears filled with his own ragged breathing, drowning out every rustle of wind and chirp of insects in the night.

When he finally neared the location on his phone, he was not surprised to see a dark shape curled on the ground.

“Wang Dongyan?” He Jueyun held his breath, crouched beside her, and called softly, “Wang Dongyan?”

He placed a hand gently on her shoulder to check on her.

The shadow stirred, then pushed itself up. She pressed a button, lighting up the phone screen.

The pale blue glow shone upward from below her chin, making her already pallid face look utterly bloodless. Her bangs were matted with blood, and a fresh red streak trickled slowly from the wound.

Even though He Jueyun was an heir to socialism and a torchbearer of science, he still shuddered involuntarily at the sight.

Qiong Cang exhaled a long, slow breath. “Scared me half to death.”

He Jueyun: …

The fuck, what gives you the right to say something like that?!

Qiong Cang continued, “Just some guy who popped up in the middle of the night.”

He Jueyun’s expression slowly twisted into something vicious.

Qiong Cang gestured. “And just started pounding on my skull.”

He Jueyun: “Heh.”

Qiong Cang said with exaggerated pain, “Ow.”

He Jueyun: …

He Jueyun patted the dirt off her clothes and checked her limbs. “Did you hurt your foot?”

Qiong Cang said pitifully, “No.”

“Then why the hell have you been lying here this whole time?” He Jueyun snapped. “Soaking up dampness in the wilderness at midnight? How can you even stand lying around in a place like this?”

“I was scared to death. My legs went weak. It’s way too dark here, and I didn’t dare leave.”

Qiong Cang said it completely seriously, but her tone and expression always made it sound like she was joking.

And then Qiong Cang had to go and add her own commentary: “It’s like a dream. Awake for ages, but still too terrified to move.”

He Jueyun was so choked up he couldn’t get a single word out. He’d wanted to mock her, but when he saw the empty, faintly sorrowful look in her eyes, every sound he might have made dissolved into nothing.

“Sit with me for a bit,” Qiong Cang said. “Let me sort things out first.”

So He Jueyun sat down beside her and waited for her brain to start turning again. By the time he finished a round of his game, he realized the person next to him hadn’t moved at all from that same posture.

She was completely still, or maybe just numb, her eyes staring blankly at one spot, who knows what she was thinking.

He Jueyun had never seen that kind of expression on her face before. He’d always thought Qiong Cang was invincible. That everything was under her control.

He nudged her with his shoulder. “What are you thinking about?”

Qiong Cang responded sluggishly, “Mm… the evidence was taken.”

“Mm.” He Jueyun turned to the side and brushed the stray hair back from her forehead. “It’s fine. Isn’t that exactly the cops’ job anyway? What are you worrying about?”

Qiong Cang raised her eyes and looked at him.

After a moment, He Jueyun spoke again. “Get up. I’ll take you to the hospital first.”

Qiong Cang: “I…”

He Jueyun bent down. “I’ll carry you, come on. Come on. Don’t end up dying from an infected wound before you’ve even met the suicide conditions.”

Qiong Cang said reluctantly, “Fine, I guess that works.”