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Join the ServerThe night was as dark as ink, making N University’s old teaching building seem even more tranquil.
After Qin Xuan’s analysis earlier that day, Su Mian found herself once again alone in the old building, drawn to the site where Zhou Li and her group had harmed her. The suffocating, oppressive resentment that had once permeated the air was now largely suppressed.
The soft glow from the necklace around Su Mian’s neck dispelled the creeping chill, illuminating a small area before her.
She walked directly to the girls’ dormitory door on the east side of the third floor.
Pushing open the creaking wooden door.
Only the extremely faint moonlight from outside the window cast a blurry halo on the floor.
“Lin Juan…”
Su Mian whispered, her voice echoing faintly in the empty restroom.
She cautiously released a wisp of gentle demonic energy, like a firefly drifting on the night breeze. It softly enveloped her, sweeping through each stall, finally pausing before the innermost, once-locked door.
No response.
Only the faint, rhythmic drip of water from deep within the pipes—*tap, tap, tap*—a sound unsettling to the nerves.
Su Mian did not give up.
Recalling how Lin Juan’s lingering regret had reacted to her aura last time, she released her energy more forcefully, hoping to help Chen Wan.
Just as Su Mian began to think Lin Juan’s remnant spirit had completely dissipated or could no longer manifest, a faint, flickering light, like a dying candle, slowly coalesced before that specific stall door. It gradually outlined the silhouette of a girl, a figure so ethereal it seemed on the verge of shattering.
Lin Juan’s remnant spirit had reappeared, her power amplified countless times, her form so faint it was almost transparent.
She gazed silently at Su Mian. Lin Juan’s demonic energy, being of the fox clan, possessed a natural affinity for spirits. Her mental fluctuations reached Su Mian.
Su Mian immediately soothed Lin Juan’s remnant spirit with a gentle touch of demonic energy, connecting with her mental waves. A vast sigh, laden with pain and guilt, washed over Su Mian.
The connection instantly grew clearer.
‘Lin Juan, tell me, was there anyone else back then who might have known, or even known more of the inside story?’
Su Mian dared not directly ask about the core of the matter. She feared that at such close proximity, a strong mental shock would hasten the dissipation of the already fragile remnant spirit.
But the remnant spirit’s fluctuations became intensely agitated, as if the mere act of recalling brought immense pain.
‘Lin Juan… she didn’t know.’
‘Had seen…’
The remnant spirit then transmitted a series of fragmented, chaotic images, forcibly thrusting them into Su Mian’s perception like frames skipping in an old film:
– A dimly lit corridor, Chen Wan’s back as she hurried past, head bowed, clutching books.
– The tightly closed door of the chemistry prep room; sounds of a heated argument seemed to emanate from within.
– Inside the chemistry prep room, a man’s profile, wearing glasses, seemingly arguing with Chen Wan.
– The man paused, looking towards the prep room, his expression grave.
– Later that evening, the man nearly collided with someone at the stairwell. He looked at her, seemingly speaking.
– Even later that night, Qin Xuan stood in the prep room, holding a key, as if inspecting something. He was surrounded by what appeared to be old, unused chemistry prep room doors. Qin Xuan shook his head, turned, and left, the gravity on his face slowly fading…
– A figure, presumably a teacher, in a white lab coat and glasses, a man’s profile, moved jerkily. He held something in his hand. He raised his hand as if to push open a door, but the image abruptly cut off.
Lin Juan’s remnant spirit’s fluctuations became extremely faint, and her form grew even more transparent.
‘Teacher, chemistry teacher!’
A tiny, fragmented mental message struggled to transmit.
‘Liu… Teacher Liu… he, Principal…’
The message abruptly ceased. Lin Juan’s remnant spirit vanished completely, like a wisp of smoke scattered by the wind, leaving behind only a lingering echo of regret and unspoken words.
Su Mian stood rooted, her chest rising and falling.
Her heart pounded, accelerated by excitement and a tremor of nearing the truth.
A chemistry teacher! Named Liu!
He might have witnessed crucial events!
He might even know more of the inside story!
And Lin Juan’s final mention of ‘Principal Zhou’ undoubtedly pointed to Zhou Rende. Was his silence linked to Zhou Rende’s influence?
The thought of this Teacher Liu’s silence made her clench her fists, her nails digging into her palms.
A new clue!
A vital clue!
Su Mian wasted no time. She turned and jogged away from the gloomy teaching building, heading towards the Supernatural Research Society’s activity room.
The night wind brushed against her face, carrying a hint of urgency.
***
The activity room was brightly lit. Qin Xuan was indeed still there, his computer screen flickering, surrounded by stacks of research materials.
Lu Yang, surprisingly, hadn’t left either. He was yawning, half-heartedly flipping through an old school yearbook.
Hua Liang, meanwhile, had produced a deck of playing cards from somewhere and was idly playing solitaire.
“Qin Xuan! Boss Lu! Xue li! Hua Liang!”
Su Mian pushed open the door, slightly out of breath, her eyes sparkling.
“I might have found a new lead!”
She rapidly recounted her communication with Lin Juan’s remnant spirit that evening, the fragmented information she received about a chemistry teacher surnamed Liu, and her subsequent deductions.
The activity room fell silent for a moment.
Qin Xuan immediately put down his work, his eyes behind his glasses sharp as an eagle’s.
“A chemistry teacher surnamed Liu… thirty-four years ago…”
His fingertips flew across the keyboard.
About ten minutes later, Qin Xuan hit the enter key. The screen settled on a somewhat blurry electronic archive page.
“Found him.”
Qin Xuan’s voice was remarkably calm, yet decisive.
“Liu Wendong, male. In his early years, he was a lecturer and associate professor in N University’s Chemistry Department, primarily teaching basic chemistry and lab safety courses.
He also served as a safety inspector for some labs in the third teaching building for a long time. At the time of the incident, he was forty-two, an age when one is particularly keen and attentive to lab safety.”
He enlarged the archive photo. It was a standard work portrait: the man wore black-rimmed glasses, his expression refined, his hair neatly combed. His eyes conveyed academic rigor, even a hint of sternness.
“More importantly,”
Qin Xuan switched pages, pulling up a more recent, clearer archive with a higher rank.
“Liu Wendong gradually transitioned into administrative roles, serving as Assistant Director of the Chemistry Department, Deputy Director of the Academic Affairs Office, Assistant to the Principal… until five years ago, when he was promoted to Vice Principal of N University, overseeing logistics, infrastructure, and security. He remains in that position to this day.”
“What?!”
Lu Yang was the first to exclaim, slamming his hand on the table.
“Vice Principal?! And the current one?”
“Damn it! I knew it! I said that old fox must be hiding something!”
“He definitely saw something back then and was bought off by that Zhou Rende with the Vice Principal position! That’s why he kept quiet, maybe even helped cover it up! No wonder he rose through the ranks so quickly!”
Qin Xuan pushed up his glasses, analyzing calmly.
“From the timeline and career changes, Liu Wendong’s professional life indeed entered a relatively rapid upward trajectory after the Chen Wan incident, especially in the years around Zhou Rende’s retirement. While we cannot directly prove a connection to the Chen Wan incident, he is highly suspicious.”
“As the on-site inspector at the time, he was one of the most likely people to discover irregularities. His silence is a crucial link in why Chen Wan’s injustice has been covered up until now.”
He looked at everyone, concluding, “The clues are very clear now.
Current Vice Principal Liu Wendong was likely an eyewitness, or perhaps even an insider, back then. For some reason, he chose to remain silent, and consequently gained subsequent political resources.
To pry open the door to the truth of thirty-four years ago, he is our breakthrough point.”
Hua Liang chuckled, a hint of playful coldness flashing in his reddish-brown eyes.
“Getting someone who holds a high position and has hidden a secret for thirty-four years to speak the truth… that sounds rather interesting.”
“Especially if there’s some unspeakable deal between him and Zhou Rende.”
He stood up, stretching his wrists.
“Why don’t you leave this matter to me? For these types of people—those with ghosts in their hearts and whose wills might not be so firm—some… *special little tricks* might be more efficient than normal inquiries.”
Qin Xuan nodded almost without hesitation.
“Agreed. Professional matters to professionals. Vice Principal Liu Wendong’s side, Hua Liang, I’ll leave it to you. Do be mindful of the boundaries; we need truth and evidence, not to create new vulnerabilities.
The Exorcism Institute, while having significant authority in certain areas, still needs to be cautious with overt societal rules.”
Su Mian nodded, feeling a little dizzy, trying to pull her attention away from her burning ears.
“As for you,”
Xiao Moyuan looked at her.
“Starting tomorrow, besides assisting with any contact they might need, your main task is to continue practicing precise control of your demonic energy. The final connection with Chen Wan’s lingering regret will likely fall to you.”
“You need stable, sustained, and even guided demonic energy output, not the wild bursts you had last time. The necklace can protect you, but it cannot control your power for you.”
Su Mian understood a little, nodding, but couldn’t help muttering, “Oh… that sounds so boring…”
‘Ugh, now is the time to practice demonic energy control? It feels harder than advanced calculus problems!’
She looked at Xiao Moyuan, her heart suddenly feeling heavy.
‘This matter, whether it can be perfectly resolved… and Lu Yang and Qin Xuan, the path they might have to walk in the future… it suddenly feels like so many things to worry about.’
“Mm, a little.”
Su Mian buried her face further into the cushion, her voice muffled. ‘I’m afraid of not doing well, and I’m afraid… especially for Lu Yang and Qin Xuan. They could have lived ordinary lives.’
Xiao Moyuan was silent for a moment, then suddenly reached out, gently pulling her and the cushion over so she rested against his shoulder.
Su Mian’s body stiffened, then slowly relaxed.
Xiao Moyuan’s shoulders were broad and reassuring. His clean, pleasant scent enveloped her.
“The path is their own choice,” Xiao Moyuan’s voice resonated above her, calm and firm. “You don’t need to bear everyone’s choices. Do what you need to do, and trust your companions.”
‘Qin Xuan has his calculations and responsibilities. Lu Yang has his opportunities and courage. Hua Liang and Xue li know even more clearly what they are doing. As for you…’
He paused, looking down to see the soft crown of her head and her slightly flushed ears.
“You only need to remember, no matter what happens, I am here.”
This sentence was spoken softly, yet it settled like a heavy, steady rock upon Su Mian’s wavering heart.
She hummed softly, her nose tingling, hugging the cushion even tighter, and leaning against him more securely.
She suddenly remembered last night and Xiao Moyuan’s… *tenderness*.
“Actually… it’s quite comfortable.”
She whispered, a little drowsy.
Xiao Moyuan: “???”
He stopped breathing, his heart involuntarily quickening.
The living room was quiet and warm, save for the rhythmic tick of the wall clock.
After a while, Xiao Moyuan felt the weight on his shoulder grow heavier. He looked down to see the little fox had, at some point, closed her eyes, her breathing steady and deep. She had fallen asleep against him.
Long eyelashes cast faint shadows beneath her eyes. A slight flush colored her cheeks, and the corners of her mouth curved gently upwards, as if she were dreaming of something pleasant.
Her three tails softly drooped, occasionally curling unconsciously.
Xiao Moyuan looked at her sleeping face, a helpless smile gracing his lips.
His usually stern features softened to an incredible degree in the unseen quiet.
He didn’t move, merely adjusted his posture to make her more comfortable, then picked up the ancient bound book from before. Under the warm lamplight, he quietly began to read.
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