Liu Sisi didn’t understand.
Jiang Fuyue had already promised to cover for him—so why did Xiao Shan still choose to give up?
Afraid of being sentenced to prison?
Afraid of being ruined and disgraced?
But hadn’t he already been through all that?
Handcuffed and jailed, lost his job, couldn’t find work after release, reported by parents.
He handed out flyers, ran a street stall, even sold takoyaki—yet still lived in poverty.
If he were afraid, he wouldn’t have lasted this long.
But if he wasn’t afraid, then why not burn it all clean with one fire?
Does he not want revenge anymore?
Liu Sisi learned many skills at Camp A, but none of them taught her how to read the human heart— the most resilient, yet the most fickle thing in the world.
She instinctively turned to look at Jiang Fuyue, only to see her expression calm and composed, as if she had already anticipated Xiao Shan’s choice.
As expected, moonlight reveals all. Even the human heart cannot hide from it.
“Little Yao, go check on him,” Liu Jinzhong motioned in the direction Xiao Shan had left.
“Yes.” Yao Ting immediately gave chase.
Liu Jinzhong turned to Jiang Fuyue. “So what’s next?”
“Proceed as planned.”
With that, Jiang Fuyue also turned and left.
…
Night deepened. The wind in the outskirts seemed colder than downtown, lashing the face with a chapped sting.
Xiao Shan hadn’t gone far—not that he could.
His wheelchair was stopped outside the warehouse, facing a coal gangue hill.
There used to be a coal mine here. The so-called “warehouse” was really just a workshop.
After a major accident, operations were shut down, and the area was abandoned.
The leftover gangue hadn’t been cleared and was piled into a small mountain.
From a distance, it was just a pitch-black heap.
The streetlights were out, and there was no other lighting. Only faint moonlight gave the vaguest sense of direction.
Perhaps it was better this way—each person’s expression and emotions hidden in the dark.
Cowardice and grief, all veiled.
Yao Ting followed silently about half a meter behind Xiao Shan.
When he saw Jiang Fuyue approaching, he stepped aside at her signal and stood farther away.
“Why didn’t you light the fire?”
Xiao Shan didn’t seem surprised she came after him. He looked straight ahead, even though there was nothing there but darkness.
“No reason,” he said flatly.
“Afraid?”
“You don’t need to provoke me.”
Jiang Fuyue clapped her hands. The sound echoed crisply in the quiet night.
“As expected of someone with dual master’s degrees in math and psychology.”
Xiao Shan: “Say it. What do you want me to do?”
Jiang Fuyue had given him the chance to take revenge. In exchange, he had to meet her conditions.
Only then would the deal be complete.
Xiao Shan was still puzzled. What value did he have left?
“Have you heard of Mingda?”
“You mean… Qiming University?”
“Mm.”
Xiao Shan replied, “Heard of it, but don’t know much. I only know it’s a private university that was once thriving twenty years ago. When the state was about to promote it as a top-tier institution and grant it national entrance exam privileges, the founder and major shareholder failed to attend the ceremony and vanished from public view for the next two decades.”
Rumors said the mysterious founder had long passed away, but the news was kept hidden because the university hadn’t stabilized yet. Others claimed he was rebellious, refused honors, offended higher-ups, and was investigated and imprisoned. There were many speculations, but none changed Qiming’s current decline.
It could’ve become a first-tier school, but ended up mocked as a “diploma mill.”
Every year after the college entrance exam, online guides would advise how to avoid “three-no” universities (no accreditation, no faculty, no facilities)—
Qiming always topped the list.
If a parent said their child studied at Qiming, they’d instantly draw a mix of surprise, contempt, and mild speculation.
Surprise: You actually sent your child there?
Contempt: Your kid must’ve done terribly to end up at Qiming instead of at least a second- or third-tier college.
Speculation: Well, Qiming costs a lot… Maybe the family’s got money.
That’s right—Qiming topped the “diploma mill” list, and its tuition led the pack too.
Xiao Shan frowned. “Why bring up Qiming all of a sudden?”
Was it related to their deal?
Jiang Fuyue said, “I want you to become Qiming University’s president. A ten-year term.During which you must restore its reputation, and produce annual research and papers matching those from the nation’s top 20 universities.”
Xiao Shan’s facial muscles twitched violently. He held back from blurting Are you insane?
He inhaled deeply. “Come on, don’t joke. I’m being serious here.”
Jiang Fuyue curved her lips. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
“You’re not?”
“Of course not.”
After a long pause, Xiao Shan asked, “…You’re serious?”
“I don’t like jokes.”
“Fine. Let me remind you—Qiming is a private university.”
Jiang Fuyue: “So?”
“The president is appointed or dismissed by the board. But ever since the founder disappeared, Qiming’s board dissolved. In other words, to make me president, you’d have to rebuild the board. Do you think that’s possible?”
“Who says it has to go through the board?”
Xiao Shan frowned. “Doesn’t it?”
“The power to appoint also belongs to the founder.”
Xiao Shan froze. “What do you mean?”
“You just take the job. The appointment letter will arrive at the school before you do.”
“You know where the founder is?!” Xiao Shan wasn’t stupid. If she said that, it meant she had the founder’s signed authorization.
“Who are you, really?” From the trap for Meng Zhiru to this casually produced appointment from Qiming’s founder— these were things ordinary people wouldn’t even dare dream of.
Yet she handled them with ease, even seemed to enjoy it.
Xiao Shan’s gaze was sharp and wary.
Too bad it was too dark—he couldn’t even see Jiang Fuyue’s face, let alone read her expression.
“You’ll find out—if there’s a future.”
If he agreed, there would be. If not, they’d part ways forever. No future to speak of.
He understood. But…
“A ten-year term is fine. I’ll give my all to restore the school’s reputation. But to produce research on par with the top 20 nationally… isn’t that too harsh?”
Jiang Fuyue: “I’m not asking you to do it alone.”
“?”
“Once you’re president, recruitment is in your hands. Students can publish too—let alone professors. Have you ever seen a professor who doesn’t do research?”
Xiao Shan already had a rough plan forming in his mind. “Last question—why me?”
“In exchange, I want to ask you one question too.”
“Go ahead.”
Jiang Fuyue: “I’ve read your papers from B University and H University. Broad perspective, strong research ability. And your recorded lectures in the learning tablet—very well taught. Most importantly, you’re someone who repays kindness. I help you, and you’ll work for me.”
Xiao Shan nodded. “Your question?”
“I already asked it—why didn’t you light the fire?”
The man’s gaze darkened, then deepened. In the moonlight, it seemed distant, but if one looked closer, it held clarity and something shimmering beneath.
Just when Jiang Fuyue thought he wouldn’t answer again, Xiao Shan slowly spoke—
“I think… I’m not like Meng Zhiru.”
He could trample lives and scorn the law—but I can’t.
Qingping wouldn’t want me to become another Meng Zhiru either.
Jiang Fuyue now understood what was shimmering in his eyes—
It was a belief still glowing amidst suffering; It was the hope he still held for the world, despite the injustice he faced.
Xiao Shan was right. He wasn’t like Meng Zhiru.
That’s why, even with a blade in hand, he could still choose reason.
Jiang Fuyue smiled. “I was right about you. You really are suited to be an educator.”
“If I had lit that fire and killed Meng Zhiru… would you still have made me Qiming’s president?”
A murderer, guiding students?
Absurd. Laughable.
“No,” Jiang Fuyue shook her head, “because you wouldn’t be able to.”
“?”
“You’d turn yourself in.”
Xiao Shan froze. “You… how did you know?”
Jiang Fuyue: “Professor Xiao, you underestimate yourself—and you underestimate me.”
If I had a kid, I wouldn’t have lit it either. If I didn’t, then I wouldn’t care. Of course, that’s with the understanding that Yue would make certain he could never seek revenge on my kid.