Chapter Thirty-Nine: Shattered Blossoms

Yang Shen, who had recently become dean at Mingcheng University, had been in a foul mood lately. Two years ago, his prized protégé, Li Mengyang, had been imprisoned for intentional injury, thus losing a promising future. Yang Shen himself had lost a capable assistant. Now, barely a few days into his new post as dean, news of a student’s suicide had shaken the college. Yang Shen felt utterly drained.

He had met the girl before—a spirited young woman, frequently skipping classes to work part-time jobs so she could buy herself clothes and dress up nicely. Yet her academic performance was impressive: what took others a whole semester to learn, she could master in two or three weeks of cramming before exams. Yang Shen had even considered taking her under his wing.

And yet, inexplicably, the girl had taken her own life. Even Yang Shen found it hard to believe; her personality simply did not fit the profile of someone who would commit suicide.

The police had investigated and concluded it was indeed suicide, but her parents refused to accept this. They could not fathom how their bright, lively daughter, who had left home for university with laughter and hope, could suddenly end it all. They insisted there had to be more to the story.

Yang Shen, too, longed to understand what had driven this girl to end her blooming life. A simple suicide verdict seemed far too hollow. After all, she had been alive and vibrant just days before, and now she was a cold corpse. Unless he got to the bottom of it, Yang Shen would not rest easy. But who could help him unravel the mystery? Suddenly, he recalled an old friend and picked up the phone.

“Haifeng, is that you?” Yang Shen asked.

“Yes, it’s Haifeng. Professor Yang, is something the matter?” came the reply.

“I’m sorry to trouble you. I’ve run into a difficult situation. Could you come over?” Yang Shen asked again.

“All right, don’t worry. I’ll be there soon,” said the voice on the other end.

Once the call ended, Haifeng immediately made his way to Mingcheng University. On the way, Haifeng’s mind drifted to Yang Shen’s image. As Li Mengyang’s mentor, Yang Shen had always been a paragon among scholars—erudite, kind-hearted, and generous with opportunities. He was one of Mingcheng’s rare few who combined both moral integrity and professional excellence, reaching the pinnacle of achievement in psychology, and had once helped Haifeng greatly.

But since Li Mengyang’s imprisonment, Haifeng had not seen Professor Yang. No one wished to dwell on painful memories, so their contact had waned. For Yang Shen to reach out now, Haifeng knew it had to be a thorny problem; otherwise, there would have been no call.

Upon arrival at Mingcheng University, Haifeng was led by Yang Shen’s student to the School of Psychology and Cognition. There, he saw Yang Shen trying to comfort two devastated parents. Haifeng already knew from the student on the way that a suicide had occurred—it was clear these were the dead girl’s parents.

He observed them: both plainly dressed, their clothes faded but clean and tidy. The mother was kneeling on the floor, ceaselessly kowtowing to Yang Shen, begging for his help; her face was stained with tears, streaks of gray in her hair betraying years of hardship. The father’s face was etched with sorrow and wrinkles, two fresh tracks of tears deepening the furrows. Supporting his wife, he tried to pull her up from the floor while choking out pleas to Yang Shen: help them uncover the truth, he begged, for their daughter could not have died for no reason.

Haifeng stepped forward to help Yang Shen lift the mother. Yang Shen, seeing Haifeng, felt a measure of relief. With Haifeng’s help, he believed he could give these parents an answer.

Yang Shen explained all he knew to Haifeng, who listened and agreed the affair was strange. As the parents had said—a cheerful, life-loving girl choosing suicide was hard to accept.

Through Yang Shen and the parents, Haifeng pieced together a picture of the girl. She was a thoughtful child, the joy of her family. Their circumstances were humble, but she had always been considerate, rarely asking for money since starting university. Instead, she worked part-time to support herself and often sent money home.

Though she had reached the age when young women delight in beauty, she never asked her family for money for clothes. Her eyes would light up at pretty things, but she could only afford inexpensive yet attractive outfits, each earned through hard work. Even so, her natural beauty allowed her to wear simple clothes with the elegance of a model.

She often skipped classes for work, but that never hurt her studies; her grades were excellent, making her a standout in the school.

Guided by Yang Shen, Haifeng visited the girl’s dormitory and learned that she got along well with her roommates, who all liked her smile. Despite being away often for work, she was popular; everyone enjoyed confiding in her, and before every exam, it was she who organized group study sessions.

Haifeng could not understand what could have driven her to suicide. From everything he learned, she had no reason to take her own life. He glanced at Yang Shen, who looked equally troubled and at a loss. If Yang Shen had known the cause, he would never have called Haifeng for help.

Haifeng took out his phone and called Zhao Zhijie, asking him to come in hopes he could help solve the mystery.

Just as he finished the call, Haifeng noticed a young girl peering timidly from the doorway. He beckoned her over; after some hesitation, she approached.

Haifeng asked, “Is there something you need? I noticed you’ve been watching me for a while.”

The girl glanced nervously at both Yang Shen and Haifeng. Before she spoke, tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks. “Dean Yang, it’s my fault. I’m sorry, I’ve wronged Li Tangmei. She killed herself because of me. I caused her death.”

Seeing her sobbing, both Yang Shen and Haifeng were at a loss, unable to make sense of her words. Yang Shen tried to soothe her: “Don’t worry, just tell us what happened. Take your time.”

Between sobs, the girl told her story.

She and the deceased, Li Tangmei, had met through a school club and become close friends. Both came from modest backgrounds and worked part-time to support themselves, drawn together by their shared circumstances. They often chatted about life and helped each other find jobs, sometimes even working at the same place.

A few months ago, the girl heard from a coworker about a streaming platform that was offering generous incentives. Apparently, becoming a streamer there could earn good money. She told Li Tangmei about it.

But the platform was, in truth, an adult streaming site. By performing sexual acts online, streamers could receive gifts from viewers. Both girls, being attractive, were quickly hired.

Initially, neither wanted to perform explicit acts; they hoped to rely on their looks, singing, dancing, and chatting to earn an income. Thanks to their good looks and the platform’s popularity, they did make some money—about two or three thousand yuan a month, far more than what they earned at other part-time jobs.

They were excited by this opportunity and even rented an apartment together, hoping to build their own small business.

But soon their online popularity waned. Fewer people watched, and fewer still sent gifts. The girls couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong and grew anxious.

Then the platform’s customer service contacted them, suggesting they perform sexual acts on camera. The company promised that, given their looks, if they agreed, the platform would promote them for free and guarantee a monthly income of at least twenty thousand yuan.

At first, both girls refused to degrade themselves. But the money they’d earned had gone into rent, and now they had little left. The promise of such a high income was extremely tempting. Twenty thousand a month was a fortune for two inexperienced girls from poor families. With it, they could finally buy nice things, beautiful clothes, and even send more money home.

The customer service agent coaxed them, saying that online performance was only for viewers’ eyes—it wasn’t selling their bodies, just satisfying the fantasies of certain men. The rewards were substantial, and with success, they could earn millions annually.

The girls reasoned that no one they knew would watch the site, and as it was live streaming, they could quit after a while and open a small shop with their savings. So, they agreed.

Once they began performing explicit acts, the platform indeed gave them a massive boost in traffic. Their popularity soared, gifts flooded in, and their income skyrocketed. That month, each earned over thirty thousand yuan; Li Tangmei even earned fifty thousand. They were overjoyed, planning their future shop, and believed that in just two or three more months, their dream would come true.

Because of her outstanding performance, Li Tangmei was invited by the platform for a trip abroad. The girl admitted she had envied her.

But when Li Tangmei returned, she seemed completely changed. She became absent-minded, often staring blankly for hours, sometimes sitting upright in the middle of the night, frightening her friend. When asked what was wrong, Li Tangmei refused to say, urging her instead to stop streaming. Soon, she moved back to her dormitory, and the girl saw her less and less. The next news she heard was of Li Tangmei’s suicide.

After hearing the girl’s account, both Yang Shen and Haifeng were stunned. They could only surmise that something had happened to Li Tangmei abroad, driving her to take her own life. But what could it have been?

At this point, Zhao Zhijie arrived at the university. After comforting the girl and sending her away, Yang Shen and Haifeng briefed Zhao Zhijie on the situation, and he began his investigation.

Someone else had arrived with Zhao Zhijie. When Yang Shen saw him, surprise flashed across his face, quickly turning to warmth.

“You’re out?” Yang Shen asked.

“Yes,” came the reply.

“And you didn’t come see me?” Yang Shen chided gently.

“I brought shame to you. I didn’t dare come,” the young man answered.

“Nonsense! You are still my proudest student, now and always,” Yang Shen said, his eyes misting as he looked at the bespectacled young man before him, unable to suppress his emotions.

Haifeng, seeing the reunion between teacher and student, knew they had much to say after so long apart. He said, “You two catch up, I’ll go see how Zhao Zhijie is doing.”

Yang Shen nodded, and Haifeng left the room. Once alone, Yang Shen pulled Li Mengyang into a seat beside him and asked, “How have things been at home?”

Li Mengyang replied, “All right, though that incident did take a toll. But it’s behind us now. I owe much to Group Leader Hai—he’s been helping my family out. And thank you, too. My mother told me you often sent people to visit her and my sister.”

Yang Shen shook his head and said quietly, “I’m ashamed I couldn’t do more for you. I’ve been too embarrassed to visit your family.”

“Please don’t say that, sir. None of it was your fault. You already helped me tremendously—without you, I’d never have qualified to teach here. It’s just fate.”

Yang Shen nodded, a trace of anger coloring his sigh, “Yes, fate. Who would have thought a teacher could turn out to be such a monster in disguise?”

He paused before asking, “How is your sister now?”

Li Mengyang nodded, “She’s better. It would be a lie to say she’s completely fine, but things are much improved. She’s at Tanghua University now. It’s farther from home, but at least she’s away from those painful memories.”

“Good, good. A fresh start in Tanghua will do her well,” Yang Shen said. Seeing his beloved student again brought him much comfort. He went on: “And how are you? Have you found work? Do you want to come back? If you do, I’ll ask the president myself, no matter what it takes.”

Li Mengyang shook his head, “Thank you, but it’s not necessary. I know the rules, and with my record, I’m no longer fit to be a teacher. I’m working with Group Leader Hai now, helping with investigations, and I’m happy with that.”

Yang Shen nodded in understanding. “That’s good. Working with Haifeng is a fine thing—he’s a good man.”

The two sat and talked, years of separation filling the room with emotion. Such is life: people we cherish may fade from view, new faces appear, and sometimes, old friends return. Whether they come, go, or return, those precious memories remain unforgettable.

When Haifeng and Zhao Zhijie returned, Li Mengyang noticed the look on Zhao Zhijie’s face—there was sadness there. Yang Shen, anxious, asked, “Well? Have you figured out what happened?”

Zhao Zhijie nodded with difficulty. “Yes, we have.”

Yang Shen waited, but Zhao Zhijie seemed reluctant to speak. Li Mengyang, seeing his teacher’s eager eyes, urged, “Tell us what happened, don’t keep him waiting.”

Zhao Zhijie glanced at Haifeng, who nodded. Zhao Zhijie choked back his emotions and said, “The girl may have fallen under the control of a pornography ring. Not long ago, she was taken to Annam, where she was kept as a sex slave for a week, suffering inhuman abuse.”

“When she returned, they continued to threaten her, forcing her to keep performing on their platform to make money for them. They also threatened that if she resisted, they would release videos of her explicit performances online, and make sure her family and friends found out.”

He paused, then continued, “She probably couldn’t bear the humiliation and didn’t want to be their slave any longer, so she chose to end her life.”

Hearing this, Yang Shen felt a sharp, vague pain in his chest. He clutched at his heart, murmuring, “How could this happen? How could she have run afoul of a criminal gang? Why couldn’t that foolish girl see another way?”

Haifeng and Zhao Zhijie rushed to steady Yang Shen, who was unsteady on his feet. “Professor Yang, please, calm down. Be careful not to fall,” they said.

A hand reached out to support Yang Shen—it was Li Mengyang’s. “Teacher, please don’t be too sad. Rest assured, blood debt will be paid in blood. I will avenge her.”

Zhao Zhijie looked up at Li Mengyang and was startled by the look in his eyes: cold as death itself, chilling to the bone. Zhao Zhijie felt a flicker of fear, sensing that something terrible was about to happen…