Chapter 7

Chapter 7 Chapter 7 Losing things is the thief’s problem, not yours.……

There are no absolute secrets in the world.

Even if Jiang University’s administration removes posts quickly, as long as screenshots and screen recordings exist, there will always be people willing to spread them.

Like sharks that smell blood, online media outlets rushed to write and publish articles, and in an instant they flooded every channel, afraid of missing out on the trending heat.

【Bi-sexual? Playing really wild.】

【I said long ago that the finance circle is all pretentious.】

【I knew the deceased. Beautiful and rich, just got recommended for postgraduate study, a top student through and through. Why would she…】

【There’s something fishy. Didn’t you see this morning’s financial news? A project that no one was optimistic about, yet he made money from it, and then two lives were involved… thinking about it is terrifying.】

With a bang, Song Xiaotong put down her instant noodles and angrily typed on the keyboard: “Making up stories from pictures? We haven’t even figured out the case yet, and they already understand it? Who can be more melodramatic, more conspiratorial, more illogical than them?”

“This little mouth of yours, firing like a machine gun,” Wang Lai turned around in surprise, also holding instant noodles, slurping a mouthful of soup. “So even the good kid gets angry.”

Song Xiaotong’s face quickly turned red, but she didn’t take her words back: “Defamation and slander, casually exposing victims’ privacy—they are contemptuous of the law.”

“Agreed,” He Linfeng lazily raised his hand and used his jacket to cover his face to block the light, asking sincerely, “Is the PR department of the Jian Group just decoration?”

The boss being scolded didn’t even react.

Zhou Shan: “……I think Bureau Zhao might be about to get angry.”

The case hadn’t been solved, yet it had already caused a storm. Recently, in the provincial assessment, Beijiang had been overshadowed by neighboring regions, and all departments were under high tension, afraid they would be criticized.

Wang Lai and Song Xiaotong simultaneously looked up.

“Why are you looking at me? I’m not a fire extinguisher,” without even raising his eyes, Yan Qiuyu said, “Call Xi Xue’s roommates and counselor again this afternoon. Try to solve the case within three days.”

The office immediately erupted into wails.

Suddenly, Song Xiaotong swiped down the screen several times: “Strange, why can’t my comments be refreshed? Xi Xue’s photos are also gone.”

Wang Lai clicked into the trending topic and followed along: “It really is.”

All scene photos, daily photos, ID photos—everything related to Xi Xue’s real life—when opened, all showed “image no longer available.”

“Did the public opinion office take action?” He blinked in disbelief and sighed, “Bureau Zhao didn’t even drag us over for a lecture this time.”

“Obviously—” dragging the tone, He Linfeng straightened up, his jacket sliding down to reveal a clear-headed handsome face, “it’s Jian Qing’s doing.”

If Bureau Zhao had stepped in, he would never have only removed Xi Xue’s photos.

After all, Jian Qing was also a victim in the Jia Xiangyu case.

Moreover, in a sense, the Beijiang police even owed Jian Qing something, because every time he appeared, he was indirectly reminding them that there was still an unsolved case.

How could they treat people differently.

“I don’t get it,” Wang Lai also reacted after He Linfeng’s reminder, “sigh, if only we could find Xi Xue’s phone quickly. The calls we’ve checked are all couriers and food delivery.”

Without strong evidence to classify Xi Xue’s death as homicide, procedurally they could not directly obtain the corresponding chat records and had to take a detour.

“The bottom of Mingxin Lake is all mud, and we’re still dredging it,” having been in the profession for over a decade, Yan Qiuyu had seen every kind of storm, “there are cases every day. Back when technology was underdeveloped, we still solved them the same way. You might as well use your little brain more.”

Clapping her hands, she encouraged while urging them on, like shooing chicks: “Go on, get moving. Work a bit harder these next two days. When the case is over, I’ll treat you all to a big meal.”

A group of people immediately and efficiently cleaned up the mess.

Only He Linfeng remained firmly glued to his chair: “Report, I request permission to investigate from another angle.”

Yan Qiuyu: “Hm?”

“Catch a thief,” He Linfeng said with clear enunciation. “The police have a duty to protect citizens’ property.”

That cufflink, he always felt, had appeared too coincidentally.

Jian Qing’s office was on the 18th floor.

Due to a particular taboo among people in the country of Hua, the construction team had once suggested skipping the 18th floor entirely and labeling it as 19 instead, but Jian Qing rejected the idea.

The cold lunch had already been placed aside. He buried himself in a pile of documents, either signing or rejecting them, until the system’s default ringtone buzzed.

Jian Qing quickly glanced at it and pressed speaker: “Teacher?”

“Tell me the truth,” the voice on the other end was full of energy, the elderly man sounding quite stern, “the day you went back to school, did you lose something?”

Jian Qing: …

The old man: “Did you forget to eat again today?”

Jian Qing quietly stopped writing.

He removed his glasses, hooked a finger through the frame, loosened his collar slightly, and brought the phone back to his ear: “It’s just a small matter. If it gets stirred up, the media will write nonsense again.”

Over the years, he had already caused the alma mater’s reputation enough trouble.

“Enabling crime—that’s how I taught you?” the volume rose sharply on the other end, the old man practically blowing his beard and glaring, “and you even dragged yourself into a case.”

“If the police hadn’t come to the school to request the surveillance footage from the auditorium, how long were you planning to hide the truth from me? Keep it buried for a lifetime?”

Jian Qing: “There were no cameras in the lounge. The door was open, teachers and students could come and go freely, and the box containing the formal attire was placed casually. It was indeed my negligence.”

That morning he had to attend a board meeting at the company first, so he was dressed too formally. That was why he asked his assistant to prepare a more casual outfit and send it to the school in advance.

By the time he realized the cufflink was missing, the lecture was already about to begin. Rather than interrupt it midway, he preferred it to proceed as normal.

The old man said, hating that he could not shape him: “Jian Qing, Jian Qing, did I call you just for you to reflect on yourself?”

“Losing things is the thief’s problem, not yours. And those strange suspects… evil will meet its due punishment. Don’t take all the responsibility onto yourself.”

“About Xi Xue’s matter, the teacher believes you.”

Forcing a faint smile, Jian Qing remained silent.

He clearly had once had a chance to save Xi Xue.

——The first case recorded in Beijiang Criminal Investigation Notes took place at Jiang University; this was information pieced together from the “heart” of a transmigrator.

At that time, the other person had been using a book to cover their face, sitting two desks away from him while complaining: 【Study, study… why hasn’t the protagonist graduated yet? I want to move the plot forward quickly.】

【Trash author, didn’t write anything about high school or university at all.】

【How am I supposed to be a detective like this? Jian Qing is the prime suspect in the Jiang University case. If I can clear his name first, I can definitely complete the strategy easily.】

Jian Qing had never read the “original novel,” and could only hear fragments of the transmigrator and system’s conversations. The scattered clues were simply too difficult to piece together into a complete picture.

So after graduation, Jian Qing deliberately reduced his contact with his alma mater.

But tragedy still unfolded as scheduled: “A murder case occurred at Jiang University…”, which was precisely the opening line recited by a certain transmigrator when recalling the original novel.

The future belonging to “Jian Qing” had already been written in advance.

It seemed that regardless of his willingness, he had to complete the protagonist’s mission.

Jian Qing suddenly felt a wave of suffocation.

But he did not show it. As if nothing had happened, he continued chatting for a few more minutes before hanging up.

The food had gone cold, and the rice had become somewhat hard, but Jian Qing did not care. He lowered his head, opened the utensils, and—following his teacher’s instructions—half-heartedly yet seriously “maintained his life.”

As if by some ghostly impulse, he thought of He Linfeng—a bug whose behavior was out of line—and subconsciously opened his contacts.

Then he discovered… he didn’t even have a number to contact the other party.

What a case of seeking medical help only when critically ill.

But it seemed fate liked to go against him. Just when Jian Qing decided to stay away from the bug and be alone for a while, that person, as if equipped with radar, took the initiative to approach him again.

“Hello, Jian Qing.”

The caller ID showed the serious crime team’s landline. After hearing a low chuckle from the other end, he finally recognized it was He Linfeng:

“I’m very well, Mr. Jian.”

Utter nonsense.

Jian Qing made a motion as if to hang up.

But the man accurately guessed his reaction: “Don’t rush to hang up.”

“This time it’s really business.”

“Do you know Yu Xiumei?”

Holding his wooden chopsticks loosely in his right hand, the young man hesitated and shook his head. Then remembering the other side couldn’t see him, he frowned and spoke tersely: “No impression.”

“The file shows her parents died early, raised by her grandmother,” He Linfeng reminded him. “After her grandmother passed away, she lived with relatives. From high school through university, she received multiple scholarships from the Jian Group.”

“Let me see… She’s from Matou Village, Longya County, Province S. Looking at the map, it’s a remote mountain hollow.”

A faint image of a shy, youthful face flashed through Jian Qing’s mind, along with a red flag fluttering in dust-filled air.

He had personally been there before.

Before the volunteers left, the girl had quietly found him. She was thin and pale, her ponytail like dried grass casually tied in autumn, yet her eyes were extremely bright.

“Mr. Jian, thank you,” she bowed deeply. Behind her were rows of low, old rooftops, tattered and worn, holding up the setting sun. “Thank you for giving me the chance to study. I will study hard and go beyond the mountains.”

“And then repay you.”

Jian Qing had heard many people say similar things.

But he had never thought to ask for repayment, so he had never cared.

“…What happened to her?” Prepared, numb, for yet another notification of death, Jian Qing tightened his grip on the wooden chopsticks, knuckles turning pale, asking almost mechanically.

He Linfeng: “Oh, she’s Xi Xue’s roommate, and also a core member of the student union. On the day of the incident, she went alone to Room 2 of the lounge to deliver water and documents—that’s the room where you lost your item.”

“Very good timing, but her acting is a bit inexperienced. After leaving the lounge she was visibly nervous, and kept sneaking glances at the surveillance cameras.”

“And I can’t figure out her motive.”

If it was for money, Yu Xiumei shouldn’t have thrown away the cufflink. If she regretted it or was afraid and tried to quickly get rid of it, then during the last statement-taking session when Yu Xiumei mentioned Jian Qing, she didn’t show any sign of guilt.

Unless Yu Xiumei suffered from simple kleptomania.

Or she deliberately framed Jian Qing.

The latter guess was too absurd; it lingered in He Linfeng’s mind for only two seconds before disappearing. Yu Xiumei returned to the dormitory at ten, and Xi Xue’s late return was an unexpected incident. She couldn’t possibly have known that the latter would die at eleven at Mingxin Lake and thus plan everything in advance.

“Jian Qing?” Sensing the change in the young man’s breathing, He Linfeng brought the phone a little closer.

His skin was too fair, his lip color also pale, making him look as if he had just recovered from a serious illness. Yet on Jian Qing, it did not feel weak—only sharp.

“I’m fine,” crack—his chopsticks snapped. A sharp wooden splinter cut his index finger, and bright red blood seeped out in small drops. He didn’t even look at it, casually tossing the broken chopsticks into the lunch box. “Consultant He…”

“Where is Yu Xiumei now?”

“I want to see her.”

As the owner of the lost item, he should have that right.