A death had occurred during the livestream, and clips of the video had already spread online, creating an ever-growing impact. Naturally, it did not take long for the police to come knocking.
Of course, Qin Shu had not tried to conceal anything. The alternate account he used for the livestream had also undergone real-name verification, so one quick check was enough to trace it back to him.
Because he knew he had not committed any serious crime. From beginning to end, he had remained calm during the livestream. He had not uttered a single curse, made a single threat, or told even one lie.
Qin Shu’s original plan had merely been to expose Tang Ran’s ugly, “contrasting” side on the internet and use his status as a minor influencer to attract traffic and fan attention. Once Tang Ran’s true face was exposed, Qin Shu could pretend to be a fan and fan the flames a little. Tang Ran’s dark history would soon be dug up, and that was something he could safely leave to gossip-hungry netizens.
If he really managed to lure Tang Ran to Jiangcheng No. 2 High School for an offline, real-life brawl, Qin Shu would have been perfectly fine with that too.
What he truly had not expected was that Song Qian Li’s existence could actually be detected by the camera, and that the system would thoughtfully give him a bunny-head filter as well. Song Qian Li had timidly said a few words and approached the screen with a rabbit head over his face. That alone frightened Tang Ran into falling from his chair and striking the back of his head heavily… killing him on the spot.
Everyone watching the livestream had witnessed the entire incident. Even if people connected to Tang Ran wanted to pursue responsibility, they could not pin it on Song Qian Li, much less Qin Shu.
And if anyone wanted to sue him on behalf of the deceased for infringing upon his right to reputation… what a coincidence. Qin Shu was still two months away from turning eighteen and remained a minor who was not particularly afraid of causing trouble.
With all these factors combined, the police who knew the details were also rather gentle with him. First, they advised Qin Shu to livestream as little as possible during high school to avoid becoming the target of online abuse. Then they warned him to study properly, stop skipping class, and not become addicted to his phone. Anything else could wait until after the college entrance examination.
Qin Shu listened obediently, nodding docilely again and again, his attitude toward admitting fault exceptionally good. Thus, apart from Teacher Fu, who was glaring furiously, everyone else in the office spoke softly and pleasantly, creating a remarkably harmonious atmosphere.
Only after the educational portion ended did the police officer take out his notebook and ask the main question. “Student Qin, who was the classmate livestreaming with you at the time? Don’t worry. We only want to ask him about the situation. We won’t arrest him.”
“His name is Song Qian Li. He died from bullying several years ago. This time, he asked me to help him seek justice. Officer, you can check the surveillance cameras in the nearby classrooms. At the time, there was no one else in the bathroom except me and him.”
Qin Shu still wore an obedient expression as he answered honestly.
Perhaps he was being a little too honest, because the office gradually fell silent. An inexplicably strange atmosphere spread through the room without a word. After all, rumors about No. 2 High School being haunted were passed around convincingly every year.
One teacher was sweating profusely. Another silently picked up a thermos and drank some water. Their homeroom teacher furrowed his brows.
Teacher Fu stared at Qin Shu’s calm expression for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. Then he strode forward aggressively, scolded Qin Shu thoroughly, and told him to get lost and write a self-criticism.
No one spoke up to stop him. Qin Shu immediately seized the opportunity to withdraw at top speed. Before leaving, he even paused at the office doorway and smiled politely. “Goodbye, Officer. Goodbye, Teachers.”
The door gently closed, and everyone in the office involuntarily let out a breath of relief.
“…That scared me to death. Could that child be possessed?” Teacher Zhang muttered. “When I went to their class after the noon break, he already seemed off.”
Their English teacher, Sara, also nodded and whispered along with her. “Sister Zhang, do you know what he did this morning? He kept pressing the boiling-water button on the dispenser and held his hand beneath the tap while the water poured over it. He just stood there blankly. I was so frightened I nearly had a heart attack.”
“That’s enough. Say less.” Teacher Fu waved a hand and interrupted their murmuring, then turned solemnly toward the police officer. “Officer, I can assure you that Student Qin is not someone who enjoys pulling pranks, and he rarely has conflicts with his classmates.”
“I understand, Teacher Fu, but—”
Teacher Fu continued without stopping, his deeply lined brows furrowed as he spoke word by word. “He’s usually cheerful and sunny, his grades are excellent, and he handles things steadily. He’s a good child who enjoys helping others. He has four or five certificates for courageous acts alone. All those stray cats you see around the school were neutered with money he and his good friend contributed themselves. The administration only took over after finding out. Speaking of it, even I feel ashamed by comparison…”
Qin Shu did not know what happened in the office afterward.
When he handed in the self-criticism he had written at high speed, Teacher Fu gave him a vicious flick on the forehead, along with three full weeks of mandatory psychological counseling. Twice a week, Qin Shu had to attend regularly, and his “attendance rate” would be included in his comprehensive evaluation.
The police officers who had come to investigate had already left. After checking the surveillance footage and inspecting the inside of the bathroom, they did not ask him any further questions.
Old Fu was fiercely protective of his students, and this incident demonstrated that quality to the fullest.
“I remember that child named Song Qian Li. Unfortunately, he wasn’t in my class. At the time, I took several students to the capital for a competition, so there wasn’t much I could do… By the time I returned to school, the boy was already gone. The whole matter had been sealed up tightly, and no one dared mention it.”
After flicking Qin Shu’s forehead, Teacher Fu calmed down somewhat. When he brought up the past, a trace of regret and helplessness showed in his hoarse voice.
“…So, Old Fu, do you believe I can see ghosts?” Qin Shu asked tentatively.
“Believe my ass.”
Teacher Fu scoffed again. “I was thinking, since they could suppress a murder case back then, why couldn’t I suppress a minor incident involving my own student? You didn’t kill anyone or commit arson. See? I kept it under control, didn’t I?”
Qin Shu chuckled and stopped trying to convince him. Instead, he immediately began showering him with extravagant flattery. “Mm, you kept it under control, you kept it under control. Old Fu, you’re incredible—majestic and awe-inspiring, like a god descending to earth!”
The corners of Teacher Fu’s mouth nearly betrayed him. He hurriedly coughed and continued in an irritated tone, “Enough of that useless nonsense. Before you cause trouble in the future, tell a teacher first. Understand? If what you’re doing is right, I’ll help you. If it’s wrong but you insist on doing it anyway, at least let me prepare myself mentally beforehand. Right?”
“Yes!”
Qin Shu agreed wholeheartedly, then solemnly told him about the trouble he intended to cause. “There’s a hanged ghost outside the senior-year teachers’ office. I plan to collect it tomorrow. If it also died unjustly, I’ll help it seek justice.”
Teacher Fu: …
“Old Fu, I’m really not lying to you.” Qin Shu blinked his large, sincere eyes.
He had a classic pair of puppy-dog eyes. His obsidian-black pupils were exceptionally bright, his double eyelids so pronounced they could practically house several people, while the corners of his eyes drooped slightly in a softly rounded curve.
This softened some of the sharpness in Qin Shu’s handsome face, making him appear less aggressive, as though he had been born with a gentle aura that invited people to draw close.
The teachers sometimes could not resist scolding him, but most of the time, as long as Qin Shu did not actively cause trouble and kept his grades stable, he would inevitably be the kind of student they liked most.
Qin Shu understood this better than anyone. Naturally, he was also very skilled at taking advantage of it, doing so with such open confidence that he could not even be bothered to pretend otherwise.
Old Fu was now so angry that he was practically blowing his beard and glaring, but in the end, he said nothing. He waved a hand and sent Qin Shu away with an utterly speechless expression.
Nothing major happened during the final two classes of the afternoon, allowing Qin Shu to relax a little. He buried his head and completed three sets of English practice papers, chatted aimlessly with Pei Zhao for a few moments, and successfully enjoyed a brief period of peace.
However, their dinner after school was even more worth anticipating.
At exactly 5:40, Qin Shu stood up with his backpack. He casually took Pei Zhao’s backpack as well, then impatiently reached out, wrapped an arm around his good deskmate’s waist, and lifted him straight out of his seat as easily as pulling a scallion from dry ground.
The entire sequence flowed like clouds and running water, impossibly smooth. Clearly, Qin Shu had done this countless times during their two and a half years of high school.
Pei Zhao had long since been forced to grow accustomed to it. Held securely around the waist by Qin Shu, he landed steadily without the slightest change in expression, then naturally walked toward the classroom door.
Qin Shu followed behind Pei Zhao with a beaming smile. When he passed Tang Rui Cheng’s desk, he paused and lightly patted his shoulder. “Old Tang, I’ll explain everything tomorrow. Tonight, Zhaozhao and I are going out for dinner~ We’re leaving, we’re leaving.”
“Tsk. Look at that smug face of yours. Tone it down.”
Tang Rui Cheng rolled his eyes at the fellow’s cheerful retreating figure. He felt a little sour—and the more he thought about it, the more sour he became.
Why did sweet campus life never happen to him?
Not long afterward, Qin Shu set off on his little electric scooter.
Pei Zhao sat on the back seat, light as a feather. There was almost no physical contact between them, yet he sat exceptionally steadily.
This had happened several times before. Qin Shu had always worried that Pei Zhao might fall off, but whenever they arrived at their destination, Pei Zhao would invariably still be sitting securely in the same position, without even his hairstyle becoming disheveled. It was extraordinarily strange.
Today was slightly different. The difference lay in… Qin Shu’s increasingly powerful senses.
His helmet covered his entire face, his arms were wrapped inside warm handlebar mitts, and the zipper of his jacket had been pulled all the way to the top, yet Qin Shu still felt extremely cold.
For someone like him, who possessed the natural constitution of a human furnace, being so afraid of the cold was truly rather rare.
On top of that, Jiangcheng had already entered deep winter, and the temperature was distinctly unfriendly… Bone-chilling wind rushed beneath the hem of his school uniform and up his back, then slipped through his collar and burrowed around the side of his neck. It felt awful.
As they traveled along roads dusted with a thin layer of snow, Qin Shu felt as though he were carrying an enormous block of ice. The sinister chill seemed almost tangible, constantly adding weight behind him.
“Um, Zhaozhao… can we have hotpot?”
“Sure.”
“Then let’s go to that place in the eastern district. It’s pretty spicy. You can handle spicy food, right?”
“Mm. I can.”
“Can I order the pure beef-tallow broth?”
“Sure.”
“And a plate of spicy marinated beef? It counts as a cold dish.”
“Sure.”
“Then can you hug me now?”
“Su—hm?”
The somewhat distracted Pei Zhao suddenly froze, only then realizing what Qin Shu had abruptly asked.
The curve of Qin Shu’s lips was hidden beneath his helmet as he said righteously, “You already agreed, so you can’t go back on your word. Don’t sit so far away from me. If other people see us, they’ll think we don’t get along. Give me a hug.”
“…”
Pei Zhao said nothing. He stared at the strip of Qin Shu’s nape exposed above his jacket, seemingly seriously assessing whether he truly felt cold.
“Zhaozhao… I’m freezing right now. Really, really freezing. I’m about to faint. Requesting warmth. Requesting a hug.”
Hearing this, Pei Zhao hesitated for a moment, looking as though he had something to say. In the end, however, Qin Shu’s exaggerated attempt to look pitiful defeated him.
He silently sighed, shifted forward on the seat, and gently wrapped his arms around Qin Shu’s firm waist.
Their bodies abruptly pressed together, and Pei Zhao naturally rested his head on Qin Shu’s shoulder. Their hard helmets knocked against one another with a dull thud.
After that muted impact came a silence so long it became slightly strange.
Qin Shu should have said something, but in truth, he was hesitating as well.
Because for some reason… after Pei Zhao hugged him, he actually felt even colder.
It was a suffocating sensation, as though his entire body had been swallowed inside a block of ice. Every breath carried an icy chill.
He felt so helpless.
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