Gambler

Ye Mian returned to the dormitory, found Qin Feifei’s ID card, and slipped it into her own bag. Meanwhile, Qin Feifei was having a lively chat with Wang Xiang in the group, even sending out a voice message that was over thirty seconds of pure laughter, completely unaware that her close friend was in the midst of confusion and distress.

Ye Mian remembered she hadn’t shut down her computer yet. When she walked over and opened her email, she discovered that the media company had accepted her virtual character design, and the prize money would soon be deposited into her account.

She had only drawn the illustration for fun, with no expectations at all, so when her work was accepted, it felt as though she had stumbled upon a small fortune.

It was only a few thousand yuan, but she was already delighted.

What caught her attention most was the media company’s proposal: they wanted her to create a story using this character, and if the collaboration went well, she would receive another bonus.

With the ID in hand, she headed downstairs and hailed a ride.

Qin Feifei’s home was quite far from the school, nearly spanning half the city.

On the city roads, illuminated by flickering lights, the driver was steady at the wheel, but Ye Mian felt increasingly uncomfortable.

Her heart was beating irregularly, and her head felt swollen, as if her cold had worsened.

She figured she was probably carsick. Seeing that there were still over thirty kilometers to go, she rested her head lightly against the car door and closed her eyes.

The gentle rocking of the car made her scalp tingle with a subtle vibration.

She didn’t sleep, but keeping her eyes closed made her feel a little better.

She finally arrived at Qin Feifei’s home, and the kind driver even dropped her off inside the residential community.

Fighting the urge to vomit from carsickness, she took out her phone and called Qin Feifei.

Qin Feifei came downstairs immediately, but her expression was different from usual. She accepted the ID card, forcing a smile, “Mianmian, thank you.”

Afterwards, she deliberately glanced at the sky, hesitating. “It’s very late. It’s not safe for you to head back now. Why don’t you stay at my place for the night?”

Ye Mian was taken aback, sensing that something was off. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“Ah?” Qin Feifei, still just a freshman, hadn’t yet learned to control her expressions, her smile growing increasingly stiff. “It’s nothing, really. It’s just that it’s late, and you have a long way back. I’m worried you won’t be able to get into the dorm. How about I book you a hotel nearby?”

This was truly suspicious.

First of all, Ye Mian was sure Qin Feifei meant no harm. But if she’d rather book a hotel than let her return to campus, something must be up. She asked directly, “What happened at school?”

Her tone was decisive and her gaze had lost its usual gentleness, replaced by a sharpness that nearly stunned Qin Feifei.

Qin Feifei had never seen her this way. She bit her lip. “It’s really nothing major, just someone causing trouble on campus. I was worried it wouldn’t be safe for you to go back.”

Ye Mian gestured for her to continue.

Seeing that she couldn’t hide it any longer, Qin Feifei finally said, “Why don’t you check the campus group?”

Ye Mian immediately pulled out her phone.

She quickly entered the campus chat group, which was in chaos, with new messages flooding the screen—something major had clearly happened.

At the very top were several two-minute-long videos. Ye Mian clicked on one, her brows knitting together at once.

It was at the main entrance of Wen University.

A middle-aged man was kneeling right at the entrance, blocking traffic from coming or going. He didn’t seem very old, but half his hair was already white. There was something—blood or mud—staining his pant leg, making him look more like a ghost than a man.

His hands were pressed together and his eyes shimmered with tears as he shouted to the surrounding onlookers, “My son is studying in there! Why won’t you let me in to see him?”

Looking closely, two of his fingers were missing, the stumps raw and red, a shocking sight.

Campus security was dispersing the crowd while saying something to the man, but the video was shot from too far away to hear.

The video ended.

Ye Mian swiped to the second video.

A teacher had arrived, and more students had gathered to watch.

The middle-aged man stood up from the ground, looking pitiful and wronged. He wiped his tears with his filthy sleeves as he cried out, “My son isn’t very filial, he never wants to see me. Please, help me out. I just want to see him once.”

The students all took a step back, as if afraid to be tainted by him.

Someone could be heard whispering off camera, “This guy must be crazy. Who would have a father like that?”

Who, indeed.

Ye Mian pressed her lips together, her expression grave.

She switched to the third video.

She had only watched the beginning.

A ringing sound filled Ye Mian’s head, and she turned and ran out of the residential complex.

The early autumn night was a little chilly, the wind sweeping fallen leaves to her feet.

Qin Feifei hurried after her. “Mianmian, where are you going?”

Ye Mian spoke dazedly, standing by the street with her hand out to hail a cab. “Feifei, go back upstairs. I need to return to campus.”

Qin Feifei grabbed her arm. “Don’t go. Maybe it’s already been resolved.”

Ye Mian turned and patted her arm reassuringly, her tone calm. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I just want to see what’s going on.”

Just as she finished speaking, a taxi pulled up. Without hesitation, Ye Mian got in. Qin Feifei wanted to go with her but was refused.

The taxi sped down the main road. Ye Mian gave the driver the address for Wen University, her voice trembling. “Uncle, please drive faster.”

“Alright,” the driver replied, gently pressing down on the accelerator.

Ye Mian’s mind was a tangled mess. She tried to steady herself and opened the video she hadn’t finished watching.

Jiang Chen was standing in the midst of the commotion. He was impeccably dressed: a long trench coat over a black turtleneck. Though his gaze didn’t meet the camera, there was a chilling air about him.

The middle-aged man, held back by campus security, alternated between crying and cursing Jiang Chen for having no conscience. The teacher looked exasperated and suggested they go inside and talk things over.

The man agreed. As soon as the security let go, he lunged at Jiang Chen and slapped him hard across the face.

“What’s the use of me raising you?!”

Jiang Chen’s head snapped to the side from the blow.

The video cut off abruptly.

Ye Mian’s heart clenched painfully.

This deranged man was Jiang Chen’s father.

She could hardly believe it.

Back in the old neighborhood, people had said Jiang Chen’s father was a respectable man—well-paid and a true gentleman.

He was nothing like this white-haired, maimed, beggar-like figure.

As the video ended, the group chat’s discussions came into view.

[Is that the father of Jiang Chen from the Finance Department?]

[What a beast. His poor old dad is like that and he’s still strutting around in fancy clothes.]

[I know him. He spends his parents’ money on luxury while his disabled father suffers. Can you call that human?]

People instinctively side with the weak.

When someone appears pitiful enough, compassion and sympathy arise.

Such psychological tendencies are enough for the masses to ignore some facts and stifle any desire to seek the truth.

For example, they didn’t know Jiang Chen’s father was a gambling addict who had abandoned his wife and child.

His missing fingers were most likely lost in unpaid gambling debts.

Nor did they know Jiang Chen had always supported himself.

They didn’t know the extent of his suffering.

And yet, based on just a few short videos, Jiang Chen was being cursed as worse than a dog or a pig.

(End of chapter)