Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Lu Mingyu made a round of the small courtyard and found that the talisman arrays buried in several places had been damaged. He repaired the breaches and arranged for two people to guard the yard. Since Jiang Lin was away, the people in the courtyard were his responsibility.

Bai Zhizhi didn’t care who moved into the yard. He had only promised Jiang Lin to ensure the safety of the original three; the rest was none of his business.

But these two were interesting. One was Huang Tianli, the other Lu Renjie. Both were members of Lu Mingyu’s team, and Lu Renjie was his nephew, though not much younger. Their nicknames were also fun: one was "No Fair," and the other was "Background Guy."

No Fair had a lively personality and went wherever there was excitement. He wasn’t shy at all—either helping Uncle Bi tidy the garden or squatting with Yue Zhihuan to watch the grapes grow. Even without sign language, he chatted away with Yue Zhihuan, almost as lively as Lin Xiaoyang.

His go-to phrase was, "There’s no justice in this world," so "No Fair" became his nickname.

Background Guy really was like his nickname. He seemed to have invisibility as a superpower—even though he was right there, people always overlooked him. It was kind of magical.

Bai Zhizhi’s cultivation was way above everyone else’s around here, and he could sense everything within several meters. Yet he still failed to notice Lu Renjie once or twice without realizing it. That amazed him.

Feeling Bai Zhizhi’s gaze, Lu Renjie, who was leaning against a pillar staring at the grapes, turned. Meeting his eyes, he tilted his head slightly, asking what was up.

Bai Zhizhi said, "You’d make a great Shadow Guard. Your cultivation isn’t high, but you seem naturally good at hiding."

Lu Renjie looked away and kept staring at the grapes. Even if they ripened, such spiritual fruit with dense energy wouldn’t be given to him. Still, it was his first time up close. They looked different from regular grapes—translucent purple, like amethysts. He wondered what they tasted like.

Bai Zhizhi said, "If you want to eat them, shouldn’t you butter me up? Just staring, do you think they’ll jump into your mouth? Uncle Gao counted every single one. No sneaking any, got it?"

As the grapes grew, Uncle Gao and Uncle Bi wanted to photograph and log each grape individually. If even one grape was missing—let alone a leaf—they’d want to hold every vine accountable.

Lu Renjie looked away and, without sucking up, calmly said, "I won’t steal any."

Seeing him walk to the other end of the corridor and sit down, Bai Zhizhi turned too. "I’ll teach you a shadow technique. Wanna be my sidekick?"

Failed to recruit a minion. Bai Zhizhi snorted and turned away. "You humans don’t know a good thing when you see it."

The small courtyard was peaceful. But Lu Mingyu, investigating the case, wasn’t having it easy. Four people had died: one teacher from Mingde High School and one student from Mingde High School. The case clearly centered on Mingde.

Mingde High School was a private aristocratic school. To reflect elite education, besides proof of assets and high tuition, Mingde also admitted high-scoring students.

Students who entered on scores—regardless of family background—could receive generous scholarships and have all fees waived. Scholarships were so big they equaled a year’s pay for a normal family. So even knowing it was an elite school, top students from average families still chose Mingde.

At Mingde, the divide based on background was stark. Some already had connections overseas and enjoyed a carefree student life; some studied day and night for semester scholarships; some could drop a few thousand bucks on one meal in the cafeteria; some could only eat the free meals provided.

Even the free meals at this fancy school were super balanced nutrition-wise, with plenty of seafood and meat. But the label "free meal" felt like a mark of inferiority.

Mingde went all-in on elite education, so they shelled out big bucks for top teachers. Rich kids didn’t just goof off here; education was taken seriously. Rich people aren’t stupid—if the school didn’t deliver, why would they pay hundreds of thousands a year?

As Lu Mingyu walked through the school, he observed. Most kids were poised and elegant in custom uniforms, confident and outgoing.

The team member Pan Xuan whispered, "An aristocratic school is different. The campus is huge, and the students all seem so confident and mature. Feels like every one of them could become high-level talent. Boss, do you think a school like this could have a dark side behind the scenes, with rich kids bullying poor kids?"

Lu Mingyu said, "Could be."

Especially in such a polarized school. Poor students might be bullied even in regular schools, let alone here. There aren’t as many families too poor to eat these days, and not all high-scoring students are poor, but bullying happens in any school.

They arrived at Class 7, Senior Year 3—the class taught by the victim, Wan Fang. A month and change before the college entrance exam, Wan Fang’s death didn’t faze the class much. Most students had already gotten into foreign colleges and weren’t taking the exam.

In Wan Fang’s class, except for a few taking the domestic exam, most were preparing for abroad.

When Lu Mingyu and Pan Xuan arrived, the Dean was already waiting. Students were in class, so the Dean gave them a quick tour. "Teacher Wan was a hard worker—worked her tail off. She’d guided several graduating classes before. The students all liked her. I don’t know how this happened."

The Dean sighed, showed them the classroom door briefly, then took them to the office. "She taught Chinese and was homeroom for an arts class. She was very responsible. Being homeroom is tough—unlike a regular subject teacher who could clock out after class. Homeroom teachers come early and leave only after students go home."

Pan Xuan asked, "Dean, do you have targets for college acceptance rates?"

The Dean said, "Of course. The school cares a lot about that. But we care about both domestic and international college placement. Getting into Mingde isn’t just about money; academics matter. For those going abroad, we start preparing for foreign entrance exams early. For domestic ones, we focus on exam scores. At least 80% of our grads go to top foreign schools, and those taking the domestic exam basically get into elite Chinese universities—985s."

Lu Mingyu asked, "With such high academic demands, do students feel a lot of pressure?"

The Dean smiled. "We’re not an ordinary high school. Most elite students already have their paths arranged. Those who entered on scores are the top few in the city’s high school entrance exam. Admission itself is a selection; no need for us to pressure them. Our teaching approach is focused and efficient—we target each student, figure out what they’re good at, and train them for specialized fields, not generic test prep."

Pan Xuan thought this dean could totally work in admissions. He almost wanted to send his kid to Mingde, though he didn’t even have a girlfriend yet.

Lu Mingyu said, "What about Miao Sheng? Do you remember him?"

Unlike teachers, with so many students, the Dean might not know all of them.

The Dean was puzzled. "He’s a student. His dad is a director at Wanli Group. He’s a really well-behaved and sensible kid. Why do you ask?"

They’d just told Miao Sheng’s parents; the school hadn’t been informed yet. When they contacted earlier, they were checking Wan Fang’s school situation; Miao Sheng hadn’t been killed at that point.

Lu Mingyu didn’t say more. In this Dean’s eyes, students were good kids and teachers were good teachers. Asking more would probably get him nowhere. He checked his watch. "Class is almost over. We want to ask a few students from Wan Fang’s class."

The Dean nodded. "That’s fine, but they’re still young. I hope you’ll go easy on them."

Pan Xuan smiled. "I’ll be real gentle. Won’t scare the kids."

Lu Mingyu got the class roster. On a hunch, he picked a few names and asked the Dean to bring them one by one for individual questioning.

When the Dean went to call the students, Pan Xuan sighed. "One class, one homeroom teacher dead, one student dead. This class must have big problems. I wonder if we can get anything out of these kids."

What if students knew something but covered for each other? Maybe the rich kids formed one group and the scholarship kids another. That would be the trickiest.

If the deaths weren’t clearly caused by demonic forces, this would be a police matter.

The first brought in was a girl. At this school, appearance rules were lenient—no flashy hair colors, but hairstyles and accessories were free as long as they weren’t over the top.

The girl had long curly chestnut hair, shiny and silky. Her bracelet was simple but expensive—covered in diamonds, probably costing a hundred grand. She was beautiful and elegant.

She wasn’t nervous. She just seemed surprised to be called. On the way, the Dean said someone wanted to ask about their homeroom teacher. News of the death had already spread through the class.

She pulled up a chair, sat down in front of the two, and waited.

Pan Xuan asked the Dean to leave. They’d checked the office for cameras—none—so privacy was assured.

Lu Mingyu said, "I assure you, no one will know about this conversation except us three."

The girl smiled, calm and indifferent. Her voice was cool. "Even if others knew, it wouldn’t matter. What I know, everyone knows. What others don’t know, I probably don’t know either."

Lu Mingyu said, "About your homeroom teacher—what kind of person was she?"

The girl replied bluntly: "Snobbish and materialistic."

Pan Xuan wrote that down. Different from the Dean’s take, but matching what Wan Fang’s neighbors had said.

Lu Mingyu said, "Give us some specifics."

The girl said, "What specifics? You should know this school—some people have money and power, others are smart test-takers. Money and power bring funding; test-takers bring rankings and fame. Scholarship students aren’t necessarily poor, but to us who pay to get in, they might as well be. Wan Fang was obviously biased. Everyone with eyes saw it. But so what? She knew how to suck up. The ones she discriminated against were the scholarship kids desperate for their grants. Who would stick up for them?"

Lu Mingyu: "So your school has a serious clique problem, and treats those who got in through exam scores in an unfriendly way?"

The girl shook her head. "It's not unfriendly—it's just that we can't click with each other, so we basically have little interaction. When we talk about customs of different countries, they're doing practice problems. When we talk about clothes and brands, they're grinding away at practice problems. When we talk about future plans, they're still doing practice problems. When we talk about social and economic trends and future development prospects, they're still doing practice problems. All they focus on are scholarships and exam scores as their ticket out. We're different. We have many paths. We've seen more, so we have a different outlook, so it's normal that we don't have much to talk about."

Pan Xuan: "Do you look down on them?"

The girl shook her head again. "It's not about looking down—it's that after we leave school, our paths will inevitably never cross again, so there's no need to make connections now."

Few rich people are stupid. A relationship that is destined to be of no help to one's future isn't worth wasting time maintaining. The connections they make now are all future network resources. They're not from the same world. Even if they briefly coexist on the same campus, they're bound not to end up in the same place. It's harsh, but that's just how it is.

As for friendships that cross social classes, it's not like it never happens, but it's rare.

Pan Xuan: "Has there been any bullying in your school?"

The girl paused briefly and looked up at the two people opposite her. "Does this have anything to do with Wan Fang's death?"

Lu Mingyu sensed something in her tone and asked, "We'll investigate whether it's related or not. Please tell us what you know."

The girl tilted her head, with an expression that was hard to tell if it was sarcastic or amused. "Investigate, huh? And after you find something, what good will it do?"

Pan Xuan: "What do you mean useless? If we find something, we question them and hand down a sentence."

The girl was silent for a long while before saying, "His name was Lixu—Zhuang Lixu. He was the one in our grade most likely to become the top scorer in the college entrance exam. He took his own life six months ago."