Jin Zhao had always remembered what Si Tian once said: in those years, Meng Yanxi often traveled abroad, most fond of visiting overseas universities, extremely driven and well-educated.

Jin Zhao didn’t know how “often” he went. It wasn’t that she was being self-absorbed—just that the date Mrs. Xu mentioned was a little special.

July 20th, the day before her birthday.

Meng Yanxi remembered her birthday. The password to his house was her birthday.

She believed it wasn’t Meng Yanxi. Even taking a step back, even if it were him, he wouldn’t choose that date.

Meng Yanxi’s itinerary had always been handled by Zhuang Yu. He should have all of Meng Yanxi’s travel records, so Jin Zhao contacted Zhuang Yu at the first opportunity. Although Zhuang Yu hadn’t joined yet when Meng Yanxi was eighteen, there was nothing to do but try.

Zhuang Yu’s six-figure monthly salary was indeed well earned—he was a conscientious employee. At the same time the boarding pass was found, Meng Shixu also received the news.

Thinking of how public opinion had fermented over the past week or so, Meng Shixu cursed in a low voice, “Bastard!”

Now it could be said that after so many years, even Meng Yanxi himself had forgotten this trip, so he couldn’t respond. But back then, when the incident first came out, Meng Shixu had asked Meng Yanxi whether he had done it.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his son. On the contrary, it was precisely because he understood Meng Yanxi that he knew Meng Yanxi really was capable of doing it.

And at that time, Meng Yanxi had indeed disappeared for a period. He himself said he had gone abroad to escape the summer heat, but the few people he frequently associated with were all in the country then.

And how had Meng Yanxi replied to him back then? The brat had been slouched on the sofa, his expression unreadable, and said, “Take a guess?”

Meng Shixu took it as a tacit admission, his heart aching with grief.

The only time in his life he had hit Meng Yanxi was when he had harmed his younger sister and caused her to fall ill. This time, he didn’t hit him—his heart simply hurt.

His son was good. It was he, the father, who had failed in his duty, causing him to stray onto the wrong path.

Once crime opens a breach, one leads to two. It’s easy for courage to grow, for one to become increasingly lawless. Wu Guo was a prime example—over these years, no one knew how much blood was on his hands. Meng Shixu feared his son would be doomed beyond redemption, never able to turn back in the future. He immediately took out his own vasectomy surgical record and handed it to him, saying in anguish, “There was no need, Yanxi. That wasn’t my child at all. You shouldn’t have dirtied your hands.”

Meng Yanxi took the surgical record, his pitch-black eyes staring at it for a long while. He said nothing, took it, and went back to his room.

From then on, Meng Shixu had always believed it was Meng Yanxi who had done it. He spared no cost to suppress the matter, and from then on no one ever mentioned it again.

He himself had also become much more cautious since then. While restraining himself, he kept a close eye on Meng Yanxi, cutting off any possibility of his son continuing to “commit crimes” by controlling both the source and the process.

He hadn’t expected that the matter from back then would be dug up again with the Wu family’s misfortune. Meng Shixu was very vexed, because he had always believed it truly was Meng Yanxi’s doing.

The surgical record was real, but at the same time, his guilt was also real. Only he himself knew that when he underwent the surgery, Meng Yanxi had been completely unaware. He couldn’t produce solid, concrete evidence—or to put it another way, he was even more afraid that others would find evidence.

Naturally, the public-relations response was soft and weak, utterly useless.

The appearance of the boarding pass caused a drastic change in Meng Shixu’s approach.

He immediately rushed back to the Meng residence in a flurry and kicked open Meng Yanxi’s bedroom door without any courtesy.

After Meng Yanxi turned twenty, he had lived outside. The room at home was filled with his old belongings. In the past, Meng Shixu would never enter his room without permission. Today was an exception. Meng Shixu personally rummaged through Meng Yanxi’s wardrobe and pulled out his old passports.

Meng Yanxi traveled abroad frequently, and his passports had been replaced many times, filled with entry and exit records. He took out one of them and, following the timeline, quickly flipped to the exit record from that year.

On July 19th of that year, Meng Yanxi had already exited the country. There were customs stamps, the date, and the name of the port of entry.

Not until August 6th did Meng Yanxi return and re-enter the country, once again with entry stamps, the date, and the name of the port of entry.

That evening, Yuns­heng’s PR team released Meng Yanxi’s boarding pass and scanned copies of two passport pages. The customs stamps on them clearly showed that from July 19th to August 6th, Meng Yanxi had not been in the country at all. At the same time, the legal department formally filed a lawsuit against Mrs. Xu for defamation.

Defamation would entail criminal punishment.

The Meng family’s PR and legal teams moved simultaneously. Within half an hour, Mrs. Xu’s social media account was officially suspended.

The tide of public opinion reversed. Many of the accounts that had cursed Meng Yanxi the fiercest quietly deactivated overnight, while those remaining silently turned back to continue condemning Wu Guo.

If things progressed smoothly, Mrs. Xu was likely to end up in prison alongside Wu Guo, becoming cellmates.

Mrs. Xu went to look for Meng Shixu, but Meng Shixu refused to see her. Later, she squatted overnight downstairs at Yuns­heng, and finally waited until Meng Shixu appeared. She rushed forward and begged him, “I was wrong, I really know I was wrong… Could you, for the sake of what we had in the past, let me off this once?”

Meng Shixu was expressionless. “You don’t know you were wrong. You know you’re afraid. When you weren’t afraid, you didn’t spare my son.”

“I just hated him for deliberately breaking us apart back then…”

Meng Shixu said, “Is that so? Then my son’s judgment of people was quite accurate. Otherwise, with your viciousness, if you’d really gained power, it wouldn’t have stopped at fabricating rumors and defamation. You’d probably have torn the bones out of my son and daughter.”

Meng Shixu strode quickly to the car, while the assistant behind him stopped her.

As the car door slowly closed, Mrs. Xu was held back and shouted loudly toward the rear of the Rolls-Royce, “I didn’t lie! Meng Yanxi really did stalk me—he even went to the hospital to pull my medical records!”

The car was already far away.

Meng Shixu’s assistant, surnamed Zhou, had followed Meng Shixu for thirty years. He turned back and said with a genial smile, “Mrs. Xu, remember to bring that medical record of yours when you go to court.”

Jin Zhao’s major academic presentation at Sui University had been on the evening of March 11th the previous year. After the storm of public opinion passed, Jin Zhao’s mood improved considerably.

An academic report was different from a speech. It was only for faculty and students within the field, discussing purely professional issues, unlike a speech where anything might be talked about. Naturally, it didn’t have the same bustle as Meng Yanxi’s speech back then. The lecture hall could accommodate only about two hundred people, yet Wang Shi’an, the dean of Sui University’s School of Foreign Languages, personally attended to host the session for Jin Zhao.

For an hour-long academic report, Jin Zhao stood on stage sharing her research.

Before even half the time had passed, the back door of the lecture hall opened. A tall, elegant figure entered from outside and sat down in an unoccupied corner in the back rows.

Jin Zhao was slightly nearsighted and didn’t like wearing glasses. The lighting in the back rows wasn’t very bright, but in just one instant of lifting her eyes, her heart jolted.

The man in the back row was also looking at her.

She couldn’t make out his features clearly, but the gaze fixed on her was impossible to ignore.

Jin Zhao quickly gathered her thoughts, turned her eyes away, and continued speaking.

The teachers in the front rows actively spoke up, discussing professional issues with her. Among them, Dean Wang Shi’an was the most interested in her research, frequently bringing up points. In the end, the originally scheduled one-hour lecture was dragged out to a full hour and a half before it ended.

Wang Shi’an wanted to apply for a project and compile another professional textbook in this field, and after it ended he spoke at length with Jin Zhao again.

But academic achievements inevitably involved an affiliation institution—what was commonly understood as one’s employing university. Cross-institutional cooperation wasn’t impossible, but it was better if it were within the same school. With a half-smile, Wang Shi’an asked whether Jin Zhao had any interest in jumping over from next door to Sui University.

Jin Zhao was flattered.

Sui University was a school she hadn’t even managed to get into during the college entrance exams back then.

Although she hadn’t gone to No. 9 High School later and instead attended No. 1 High School in the neighboring city, perhaps because that upheaval ultimately distracted her, she never regained the momentum she’d had in Class A of the affiliated high school. In the end, she only got into a mid-tier 985 university in the college entrance exams.

Jin Zhao smiled and said, “Thank you, Dean Wang. It’s just that I’ve looked at Sui University’s recruitment requirements, and my current credentials don’t yet meet them.”

Wang Shi’an paused slightly, then asked, “When will you be promoted to associate professor?”

Jin Zhao said, “Two years.”

Wang Shi’an asked, “Does your school have any exceptional-track promotions?”

“Yes,” Jin Zhao said, a little embarrassed. “But I don’t meet the exceptional criteria either.”

Wang Shi’an thought for a moment, then suddenly said, “You might consider applying to be a visiting scholar at a top overseas university.”

Jin Zhao was taken aback.

She had never thought of that path before.

Wang Shi’an analyzed it for her in a clear and orderly way: “You returned to China less than a year ago and already have an SSCI paper, and now you’ve also secured a National Youth Fund project. That’s extremely outstanding research ability. You’re fully qualified to apply to places like Cambridge or Oxford as a visiting scholar. When you come back, not only can your professional rank move up another level, your employing university can as well. If you need it, I can serve as your external recommender.”

Wang Shi’an’s tone was very assured. Jin Zhao was deeply tempted, eager to give it a try.

The two chatted as they walked out of the lecture hall. Meng Yanxi did not step forward, following them from a distance.

Across from the academic lecture hall was the parking lot. Wang Shi’an did not live on campus, and politely asked where Jin Zhao was headed.

Jin Zhao smiled and said, “My boyfriend is here to pick me up.”

When she turned around, Meng Yanxi was already standing not far away.