Chapter 79.3: Layers of the Game (2)

Sun Hongxia froze.

The worldview of an ordinary person could sometimes be complex, yet at times utterly simple. Sun Hongxia had remained at the school in the first place purely out of guilt. But after seeing the ghostly figure of “Qiu Minmin” and hearing Ran Qiuping's account, she was even more convinced that she was a penitent seeking redemption.

Yet in her eyes, the people who could go toe-to-toe with “ghosts” and not lose were clearly not ordinary either.

Even though they had detained her, threatened her, and interrogated her, she still believed what they said.

There’s more to my son’s case?

That means… my son was wronged?

Her gaze slowly drifted downward to the low stool altar, where her son’s funeral portrait sat.

“No… no, no, how could this be? How could this be!”

Sun Hongxia screamed and clutched the portrait to her chest.

Watching this, Tan Wenbin suddenly realized that his earlier comment—“Little Yuan-ge, you’re so kind”—had been premature.

“My son was wronged! My son was wronged!”

A zealot’s mentality is inherently unstable. The longer it’s suppressed, the more frantically it clings to any rope that drops from above.

Clutching the portrait, Sun Hongxia bolted from the room. By the time Tan Wenbin gave chase, she had already fled the shop. She ran first toward Building Nine—likely to look for Ran Qiuping—but when she couldn’t find her, she ran out again, hair disheveled, darting off in another direction.

Tan Wenbin felt a chill run down his spine. He realized that Sun Hongxia was just a bait Little Yuan had casually thrown out.

He shut the shop door, grabbed the food, and returned to the dormitory.

“Little Yuan-ge, Sun Hongxia ran off—like she’s lost her mind.”

“Mm.”

“Should I tail her?”

“No need. Let her be.” Li Zhuiyuan handed something over. “Copy this first, then take it to Yin Meng. Make sure she memorizes it with understanding—her opponent won’t be playing by the book in a real fight.”

“Got it.” Tan Wenbin accepted the materials and began copying.

He sat upright, fully focused—more so than even when his father used to watch over him with a belt in hand during homework time.

When he was done, he rushed to the infirmary ward. After checking in on Runsheng’s recovery, he called Yin Meng out and handed her the materials, repeating the instructions.

“Binbin’s gone?”

“Yeah. Take a nap. I’m going out for some air.”

“Little Yuan’s about to make a move, isn’t he?”

“Even if he is, it’ll wait until you’ve healed. Without you, our team doesn’t run.”

“This team… without Little Yuan, none of us matter.” Runsheng touched the bandaged wound on his side. “It was my mistake. You and Binbin must protect him.”

“Alright, the past is past. Your job now is to recover.” Seeing that Runsheng had caught on, Yin Meng stopped hiding it and took out the paper. “I’ve got to memorize all this—not just memorize, but understand.”

Runsheng said, “Then start now. You’re not the sharpest—better hurry.”

Yin Meng: “…”

…

By dusk, Li Zhuiyuan and Tan Wenbin hailed a taxi at the school gate, heading for the restaurant.

In the car, Li Zhuiyuan sat in the back while Tan Wenbin rode shotgun, muttering various divination terms to himself the whole way. The driver kept glancing at him curiously.

When they arrived and paid, the driver asked as he handed back change, “Hey kid, which temple do you worship at? I might want to pay a visit myself.”

Inside the restaurant, Tan Wenbin recounted the driver’s reaction like a joke: “Little Yuan, if I’d put on more airs and acted all mysterious, think we could’ve gotten the ride for free?”

“It’s precisely because you didn’t try to pull a fast one that he paid willingly. That’s why he believes you.”

“Oh, true.”

Though they arrived early, they were still the last to show up. Luo Gong and the rest had likely been here for an administrative meeting.

Upon entering, Xue Liangliang warmly introduced Li Zhuiyuan and Tan Wenbin to the group.

As Li Zhuiyuan scanned the room, his eyes narrowed slightly.

Tan Wenbin, meanwhile, was immersed in the atmosphere—everyone present was a faculty member or school leader.

When Xue Liangliang introduced the principal’s secretary, Zhu Hongyu, Tan Wenbin found her graceful and vaguely familiar.

Then came their class advisor, Liu Xinya. The name struck a chord with him—it felt oddly familiar.

Finally, Zhu Hongyu’s husband, Wu Xinhui, who worked in campus logistics, was introduced—and Tan Wenbin jolted. He remembered now.

These three—weren’t they the witnesses from the case file?

He immediately turned to look at Li Zhuiyuan and saw him smiling politely at the room, playing the perfect student.

Did Little Yuan not recognize them?

No way. If even he remembered, there was no chance Little Yuan had forgotten.

Luo Gong sat at the head. The other school leaders had to sit beside him. Even in casual banter, their respect for him was clear.

“I personally recruited Zhuiyuan from Nantong. I’m overseeing his development myself—don’t worry about his academics. I’ve got a whole box of his completed thesis projects in my study, haha.”

Xue Liangliang, ever considerate, poured wine while whispering, “Don’t forget Binbin.”

“Ah, yes. Binbin too.”

Luo Gong remembered Tan Wenbin, of course. His projects always had a few “reserved” spots anyway—why not give them to his protégés?

What often felt like rare heavenly favors were, in truth, just a word from someone nearby. Naturally, he wouldn’t deny his beloved students a little edge.

The mood at the table was lively.

Li Zhuiyuan understood that this dinner gave him a kind of unspoken permission: he could now skip class whenever he wanted.

After all, he’d already mastered the core university courses. As for calculus and physics, he saw them as no different from high school material.

He also learned from the dinner conversation that Zhu Hongyu was the granddaughter of the former principal, and Liu Xinya had stayed on campus ever since graduation—they had barely ever left.

Only Wu Xinhui had ventured out. One tipsy department head sarcastically called him “Boss Wu,” making his face turn red.

He’d apparently failed in business, come back through his wife’s connections, and recently landed a job at the school again.

Which meant—all three of them were now back on campus.

That seemed… like a trigger condition.

So he and the others had stumbled into the volcano’s mouth just before it erupted—and got splashed with lava.

Though, in return, the volcano got punched too—it hadn’t come out unscathed.

Cases could be complex. But if every murder victim could “speak,” or otherwise voice their grievance, the police would have a much easier job.

Li Zhuiyuan didn’t ask if they’d experienced anything strange lately, nor did he casually bring up the seven-year-old case.

He simply drank his juice and played his part.

After dinner, Liu Xinya, now their advisor, asked after their wellbeing and left her contact info.

Zhu Hongyu and Wu Xinhui came over too. She asked if Li Zhuiyuan was interested in representing the school in student competitions, while Wu Xinhui made a show of inquiring about his daily life, patting his chest and promising help if needed.

Li Zhuiyuan responded to them all with courtesy and warmth.

Though tired, Luo Gong offered a few final words, promising that once he wrapped up his current project, Li Zhuiyuan would be included in the next one.

This time, Li Zhuiyuan tugged Tan Wenbin along, reminding Luo Gong:

“Oh, right. And Binbin too.”

Xue Liangliang escorted Luo Gong upstairs to rest—there was another meeting tomorrow.

He soon returned to see the two off at the hotel entrance.

“You two… are you hiding something from me?”

Li Zhuiyuan shook his head.

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