Chapter Fifty-One: Evil Returns

When Haifeng saw Yang Shen again, he could hardly believe his eyes. In such a short time apart, Yang Shen had aged so much he was almost unrecognizable. His eyes were bloodshot, disheveled white hair stood untamed on his head, and his clothes were deeply wrinkled and unkempt, as if he hadn’t paid them any mind.

Upon seeing Haifeng, Yang Shen forced an awkward smile and said, “I’m truly sorry to trouble you again! This year has been nothing but one misfortune after another. Being dean is no easy task!”

Haifeng smiled back, asking, “It’s no problem, Professor Yang. What’s happened this time?”

Yang Shen sighed. “This time it’s not about our college, it’s the school’s Textbook Office. Well… Mr. Zhang, you’d better explain it to Officer Hai yourself.”

Haifeng glanced at the man Yang Shen referred to as Mr. Zhang. He looked to be in his early thirties, wearing a pair of round, gold-rimmed glasses with one bent arm, so they sat askew on his face. Two streaks of tears marked his slightly plump cheeks, his eyes were swollen and red, and his face was clouded with misery.

Several older, middle-aged men—presumably his colleagues—stood around him, some offering words of comfort, others silent, all with troubled expressions. A short distance away, an elderly woman in a dark red wool coat sat dabbing her eyes repeatedly. Beside her, an older man in a brown corduroy work jacket patted her back as he choked out words of consolation.

Haifeng approached Mr. Zhang and asked softly, “What exactly has happened? Could you tell me?”

Mr. Zhang looked up at Haifeng, opened his mouth to speak, then swallowed his words, sighing and lowering his head to shake it helplessly. He repeated this gesture two or three times without uttering a word. His colleagues tried to comfort him, urging him not to get too upset.

Witnessing this, Yang Shen said to Haifeng, “Mr. Zhang is too distraught right now. Let me explain. I’m afraid I must trouble you both to step outside with me.”

Haifeng and Zhao Zhijie followed Yang Shen to the adjoining office. After seating them and calling a student to pour water, Yang Shen began, “The man you just met is Zhang Ming from the school’s Textbook Office, responsible for procuring student textbooks. He’s been at the school for five years—a diligent, honest man. Not outstanding, but dependable and trouble-free.”

He sighed again, continuing, “This year’s textbook procurement plan was finalized two months ago. Normally, the books would have been distributed to each department a month ago to prepare for the new term. But the Textbook Office kept delaying. Several departments pressed them, and only then did Mr. Wu, the office head, realize the books hadn’t arrived.”

“When Mr. Wu asked Mr. Zhang, he always said the supplier was behind and the books would be a few days late. This dragged on for about a month. Yesterday, Mr. Wu finally went directly to the supplier, only to discover Mr. Zhang hadn’t paid them at all—so of course, no books were delivered.”

Yang Shen paused before resuming, “The textbooks in question are for next semester, and the total amount is over ten million yuan. When Mr. Wu learned that Zhang hadn’t paid for the books, he became frantic and summoned Zhang to his office—the very room you visited earlier. I happened to be there with our department’s textbook coordinator to inquire about the student materials, so I witnessed it firsthand.”

He stopped, his face creased with worry, before pressing on, “At first, Zhang tried to hide the truth, but Mr. Wu saw through him immediately. When pressed on why he hadn’t ordered the books and where the funds had gone, Zhang dodged the questions. Mr. Wu, growing angry, threatened to report the issue to the university leadership and involve the police. Only then did Zhang confess.”

Yang Shen’s sorrow deepened, his voice choked. “It turns out Zhang gambled away the procurement funds online—lost every cent, unable to pay for the textbooks, so he kept stalling, day by day.”

“But you can’t hide forever. When Zhang finally confessed, he broke down in tears, sobbing that he’d lost his mind, that he deserved to die. He even tried to jump out the window, but thankfully there were enough people present to restrain him.”

“It’s a matter too grave for anyone to cover up. Mr. Wu had no choice but to report it to President Zhu.”

Yang Shen lowered his head again with a sigh. “On one side, Zhang is threatening suicide; on the other, tens of thousands of students have no textbooks. President Zhu had to ask us to keep an eye on Zhang while he hurried to the supplier, trying to persuade them to release the books on credit so the students would have materials when the term began. Otherwise, what would we do if tens of thousands of students had no textbooks at the start of school?”

As Yang Shen spoke, tears streamed down his aged face. Seeing him, now nearly sixty, so distraught, both Haifeng and Zhao Zhijie felt a pang of sympathy. Haifeng knew Yang Shen was deeply devoted to his students, taking their affairs more seriously than his own, a truly tireless and dedicated teacher. No one else could fully understand the torment he now endured.

Choking back tears, Yang Shen continued, “The whole afternoon and night were spent in turmoil. Someone notified Zhang’s parents, but they’re ordinary folk—how could they possibly cover such a loss? All they could do was weep helplessly.”

Wiping his tears with his sleeve, Yang Shen turned to Haifeng. “Haifeng, what do you make of this? I’ve spent my life dealing with crime, but I find it harder and harder to understand. How are these people so skilled nowadays? How could a normally cautious teacher be lured in so easily, gambling away more than ten million yuan meant for textbooks?”

“Are these online gambling operators really so formidable? If he’d gambled in reality, there might be a way to recover the money, but he did it all online—we don’t even know where the operators are. What can we do?”

Fearing for Yang Shen’s health, Haifeng said, “Professor Yang, please don’t worry yourself sick. Since Director Qiu dispatched me, I promise I’ll investigate thoroughly.”

He added, “I’ll do my best to recover the funds. You must take care of yourself. I can see you haven’t slept all night. Please, go rest. We’re here—let us handle things.”

Yang Shen sighed deeply. “How can I rest at a time like this? My mind just won’t be at peace.”

He moved to Haifeng’s side, gripping his hand tightly. “Haifeng, you must find a way to recover that money. This concerns the future of tens of thousands of students!”

Haifeng squeezed his hand in return. “Don’t worry, Professor Yang. I’ll do everything I can to get the funds back. Please, don’t let this overwhelm you. Try to rest. I need to speak with Mr. Zhang and understand the case in detail before proceeding.”

Yang Shen replied, “Don’t try to persuade me. Even if I went back, my heart would still be here. Let me stay. You wait here; it’s too crowded over there to question him. I’ll bring Mr. Zhang to you.”

Watching Yang Shen’s frail figure shuffle out of the room, Haifeng’s heart ached all the more. For someone nearly sixty to be so tormented by his students’ troubles, Haifeng felt only deeper admiration for him.

Zhao Zhijie turned to Haifeng. “Team Leader Hai, Professor Yang has it tough.”

Haifeng nodded. “Yes, there are few teachers like him left. We must help him. Let’s put the matter of ‘Mr. Song’ aside for now and focus on this.”

Zhao Zhijie nodded. “Understood. You decide, Team Leader.”

As they spoke, Yang Shen returned, leading Zhang Ming into the room. He said, “Try to calm down, Mr. Zhang. Tell Officer Hai everything in detail. Perhaps there’s still hope.”

By now, Zhang Ming was no longer hysterical, just burdened with sorrow. He nodded to Yang Shen. “Thank you, Dean Yang. I’ll tell the truth.”

Haifeng regarded Zhang Ming’s miserable face. “Sit down, please. Don’t be agitated. Since what’s done is done, let’s see how we can remedy it. We’re here to help. Please, tell me the whole story—maybe there’s a way to recover the losses.”

Zhang Ming nodded, took a deep breath, and tried to compose himself, but his voice still broke with sobs as tears spilled down his face. “It’s all my fault. I truly lost my mind. I even touched the students’ textbook funds. I deserve to die.”

Haifeng spoke gently, “Don’t cry yet. Calm yourself and tell us everything. Only then can we help you recover the money, understand?”

Zhang Ming nodded, sniffed, and began his account.

“I’m a teacher in the school’s Textbook Office, mainly responsible for procuring student textbooks. I may handle large sums, but I never thought of taking a penny for myself. Suppliers have offered me kickbacks to be included in the procurement, but I always refused. After all, this is the students’ money. I’m a teacher, and I never intended to profit from it.”

He paused, then continued, “I’m from Mingdong. My family’s situation is average. I work in administration, so my salary’s relatively low—no extra pay for teaching classes.”

“In the past, the school provided housing, so a low salary wasn’t a big problem. But when I joined, housing was no longer provided. Mingcheng’s housing prices aren’t cheap. With only my salary, buying a home and starting a family was a struggle.”

“So I often took on odd jobs with friends to earn a little extra. Those friends were all businesspeople, and when we got together, inevitably we played cards or mahjong.”

“Of course, it was just for fun—an evening’s losses or winnings were around a thousand yuan. My friends knew my finances were tight and often let me win, so I usually won more than I lost. That made me a bit conceited, thinking I had a knack for lucky money.”

He sighed. “Ultimately, it was my lack of self-awareness that led to disaster.”

“Not long ago, I met a woman online. Judging by her social media, she lived a life of travel and luxury cars. She looked younger than me in her selfies, so I joked that she must have a rich patron. She told me she made all her money playing cards.”

“I was intrigued by her photos and asked where she played. She told me about a gambling website, saying there were many players and anyone with skill could win big.”

“At first, I didn’t believe her—after all, I’m not a gambler. But she insisted she’d cover any losses if I played with her. Out of politeness, I played a few rounds and won a few hundred yuan. That was that.”

“We kept chatting and became friends. She often invited me to play cards with her. Since she made a living gambling, it was normal for her to want company. Playing with her, I usually won more than I lost—about two or three thousand yuan in a week.”

“Initially, I played just to be polite, but to my surprise, I made a tidy profit. I became addicted and started playing for higher stakes—hundreds at first, then often a thousand per hand.”

“With this woman as my partner, my luck held—I kept winning. I felt I’d found a way to make money. Then she encouraged me to invest more, so I put in all my savings for a house.”

Zhang Ming lowered his head, wiping tears away. After a moment, he continued, “I wasn’t greedy; I just wanted to capitalize on my luck and make enough for a down payment.”

He shifted tone. “At first, after investing my savings, I kept winning. But then my luck turned. Not only did I lose my winnings, I lost much of my principal. The girl seemed to lose a lot too and stopped playing.”

“I couldn’t accept my losses and wanted at least to win back my principal, so I kept playing alone. But my luck only got worse. Before long, I’d lost everything—it had taken me five or six years to save that money.”

“I told myself I’d quit gambling. But soon the girl invited me to play again. Unwilling to see years of saving go up in smoke, I convinced myself I’d win it back, so I started again.”

“By then, I was almost out of money, so I played with my salary. My luck returned, and I started winning. Then the school’s procurement funds arrived, held in my account. I thought I’d borrow from it, win back my savings, and then repay it.”

“But the more I wanted to win, the less I succeeded. Without using the procurement funds, I won more than I lost. The moment I started gambling with the school’s money, I lost more than I won—every day for weeks. The more I lost, the more desperate I became, until finally, every cent was gone.”

Zhang Ming’s voice faltered, his head bowed, unable to meet Haifeng’s eyes. “When I realized all the money was gone, I panicked. I told the girl the money wasn’t mine, that I’d borrowed it and begged her to help me get it back.”

“She said she’d lost a lot too, that the website wasn’t hers, and that I’d played, so the loss was mine. The more I pressed her, the more she ignored me—eventually blocking me. I tried contacting the gambling site’s customer service, hoping to retrieve the money, but they refused and ignored my pleas.”

He began sobbing again, tears streaming down his face. “When I knew the money was gone for good, I wanted to die. But with the New Year approaching, I thought I’d at least spend it with my parents. I figured I’d drag things out as long as I could—after the holiday, I’d end my life.”

He wiped his tears with his sleeve. “I knew the truth couldn’t be hidden forever. The textbooks were already overdue—there was no way to keep stalling. I’ve let down the school leadership, let down the students. I can never repay this debt in my lifetime. I can only atone by death—maybe in the next life, I can work off what I owe.”

Listening to Zhang Ming, Haifeng felt both sympathy and indignation. A promising university teacher had lost his way—anyone would pity that. But to gamble away funds meant for students’ textbooks—who could forgive such a thing?

Haifeng said, “Taking your own life isn’t the answer. Dying won’t bring the money back. Trying to escape responsibility by death only proves you’re a coward. Stop crying. Be a man, and face the consequences of your actions. Go confess and accept the law’s judgment. Don’t run away from it.”

Haifeng’s gaze was unwavering. “If you still have a shred of conscience, you should live—to face punishment, and to help us recover the students’ money. Don’t run anymore—running solves nothing.”

Hearing Haifeng’s righteous words, Zhang Ming finally stopped weeping. He began to cooperate, providing Haifeng with every clue he could.

By the time Haifeng and Zhao Zhijie had finished understanding the case, it was already late. They offered further words of comfort to Yang Shen before bidding everyone farewell.

As they left, neither Haifeng nor Zhao Zhijie spoke. In heavy silence, the two departed Mingcheng University.