Chapter Forty-Eight: It Was Not Me

The following noon.

Zhou Yi drove a rented car and parked in front of the military district compound, near an intersection, with the turn signal blinking. He held up his binoculars, watching the inside of the compound.

The angle was quite good; he could see all three windows on the first floor of Meng Xiaojiao’s house. Zhou Yi observed casually, glancing over every now and then.

Fatty had gone to check on those three companies and was also investigating Li Mei’s family. That left Meng Xiaojiao, and Zhou Yi had volunteered to follow her, though tailing people wasn’t really his strong suit. Still, with nothing else to do, he didn’t mind.

He stared for a while, rubbing his hands to keep warm, and continued watching. The house was quiet—Meng Xiaojiao didn’t board at school, but she likely ate lunch at the cafeteria since there were afternoon classes.

What interested Zhou Yi, however, was Meng’s father. The night they’d spoken on the phone, he’d had no doubt Meng’s father knew about her boyfriend and was strongly opposed.

As he was lost in thought, the living room window—the middle of the three—opened, and Meng Xiaojiao’s head appeared. Zhou Yi froze.

He quickly raised his binoculars. Meng Xiaojiao waved her hand, fanning herself as if the room was too hot, and opened the window for fresh air. She seemed to be speaking to someone, then stepped onto the balcony to water the flowers before disappearing.

Her being at home at this hour was surprising. It was Monday, after all, and school was in session. Zhou Yi himself had taken leave. Did she come home just for lunch?

He didn’t have to wait long. Meng Xiaojiao soon left her room, her coat draped loosely over her shoulders, a lollipop in her mouth as she jogged outside.

A woman leaned out the window, shouting after her:

“Hurry up and dress properly! You’ll catch a cold switching between hot and cold. Come home early tonight, or your father will punish you if you’re late.”

The window closed. Meng Xiaojiao pouted, clearly dissatisfied, but didn’t dare to protest. She swung her arms and slowly put on her coat before leaving the compound.

Zhou Yi started the car and followed her. There were only two intersections between here and Shanda University, no more than three hundred meters away. This aimless tailing was unlikely to yield results—it was better to be proactive.

With that in mind, Zhou Yi caught up with her. Just as Meng Xiaojiao was about to enter the school gates, he honked twice.

She stopped, glancing at Zhou Yi in the car. He rolled down the window and pulled up beside her.

“You must be Meng Xiaojiao?”

She squinted slightly, but upon hearing Zhou Yi’s voice, she asked tentatively:

“Are you Teacher Xing?”

Zhou Yi nodded.

“The Public Security Team came by at noon looking for you. Why weren’t you in class?”

Meng Xiaojiao froze for a moment, then panic filled her face. She leaned into the car window, anxiously asking,

“They’re looking for me? But I haven’t done anything! Do you know why, Teacher Xing?”

Zhou Yi shook his head.

“I heard a little. How about I take you to the Public Security Team to ask? It’s not good to keep dragging this out.”

Tears brimmed in Meng Xiaojiao’s eyes, her lips trembling as she pleaded,

“Please, Teacher Xing, I really have nothing to do with Cheng Zhi. Ever since he took his graduation certificate, he hasn’t contacted me. My father even wants to find him, but we haven’t managed to. I’m not lying, I swear. Please don’t take me to the police station—if my father finds out, he’ll be furious.”

Zhou Yi pressed his lips together, falling silent as if deep in thought. A police siren wailed behind them.

He glanced in the rear-view mirror, foot on the clutch, ready to move forward.

He was taking a gamble—a gamble on Meng Xiaojiao’s urgency. If he won, he’d gain the upper hand.

Just as he was about to drive away, Meng Xiaojiao opened the car door and sat down in the passenger seat, looking at Zhou Yi with desperation.

“Teacher Xing, please help me. I’ll tell you everything I know.”

Zhou Yi started the car but didn’t reply immediately. Taking advantage of the open school gate, he drove onto campus. The security guard didn’t stop them. He parked, pulled the handbrake, and looked at Meng Xiaojiao.

“Let’s talk in my office. If there’s no solid evidence, I doubt the Public Security Team would come looking for you repeatedly.”

Meng Xiaojiao grabbed Zhou Yi’s arm. Going to his office meant the other teachers would find out. If they did, the whole campus would know, and she’d be labeled as disreputable. She couldn’t let that happen.

“Teacher Xing, whatever you need to ask, just ask me here. I promise I’ll tell you everything—no holding back, is that alright?”

Zhou Yi paused, then dialed Fatty’s new number, casting a glance at Meng Xiaojiao.

“Let me contact Captain He first. You start explaining. If you can’t clear things up, you’ll still have to go to the Public Security Team.”

Meng Xiaojiao nodded hurriedly. She knew this was already the greatest leniency Teacher Xing could offer; she couldn’t push her luck.

Zhou Yi’s call went through. On the other end, a loud voice answered, and Zhou Yi quickly said,

“Captain He? I’m Xing from Shanda University’s dorm management.”

The reply was a simple “Oh,” neither warm nor cold, with a hint of indifference.

Meng Xiaojiao’s heart was in her throat. She gripped the edge of her down jacket, eyes wide, watching Zhou Yi, who remained polite on the phone.

“I just found Meng Xiaojiao. She’s terrified at the thought of going to your office. How about this? If you have questions, she can answer them here with me. If it’s not enough, I’ll bring her in.”

Fatty on the other end grunted. He didn’t agree outright but seemed to shuffle through some papers before replying,

“Alright, Teacher Xing. Put me on speaker. I have a few questions for Meng Xiaojiao. If she lies or hides anything, I’ll send someone to bring her in for questioning.”

“No problem. Go ahead.”

Zhou Yi put the call on speaker. The car was quiet, so Meng Xiaojiao heard everything clearly. She leaned in closer to the phone.

“The traffic accident at the intersection of Medical College Road on the thirtieth—you must have seen the provincial news last night?”

Meng Xiaojiao nodded quickly.

“Yes, our family always watches the provincial station before the news broadcast. I saw it: a female driver hit a lot of people, seemed very arrogant, even said some nasty things, but the audio wasn’t clear.”

Her answer was straightforward and honest, which made Zhou Yi a little suspicious—had he misunderstood?

On the other end, Fatty made a loud snapping sound, startling Meng Xiaojiao.

“You saw it. Then let me ask: on the night of the first, someone threatened an injured elderly man at the hospital to get discharged. Do you know about this? Were you involved?”

Meng Xiaojiao shook her head vigorously, eyes wide, trying to explain,

“It wasn’t me! I could never threaten an old man—I don’t even know anyone involved. If I did, I’d have to have a reason, wouldn’t I?”

Zhou Yi sighed, glancing at her. Meng Xiaojiao was so anxious to defend herself that sweat had appeared on her forehead, her face growing paler by the second.

Fatty continued, rapid-fire,

“Don’t rush to explain. If we didn’t have evidence, would we ask you? Listen, we checked the hospital surveillance from the night of the first. The people who threatened the patient left the ward and headed toward the boiler room.

There were two cars parked at the boiler room. Two people got out of one Santana—one was you, and the other a man. Based on body shape, we suspect the other was your ex-boyfriend, Cheng Zhi. Now, you tell me—doesn’t that count as evidence?”

Meng Xiaojiao’s mouth fell open. She tilted her head, frowning, as if trying hard to remember but failing. Tears began to fall, and she looked utterly wronged.

“I wasn’t there. On the night of the first, I wasn’t feeling well and went to bed early. I didn’t go out—I even had a fever the next day.”

Fatty showed no sympathy, the clatter of a keyboard in the background as he said,

“I checked your compound’s surveillance. At 8:10 p.m. on the first, you climbed out of your west bedroom window, wearing a hooded cotton jacket. You returned at 10:30, again climbing through the window. Now you’re telling me you were at home—how do you explain that?”

Meng Xiaojiao grabbed her hair, breaking down in sobs. She snatched Zhou Yi’s arm, hanging up the phone.

“Teacher Xing, I really didn’t go!

But lately, I keep forgetting things—even what I’ve said to my parents sometimes slips my mind. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Could I be sleepwalking, or maybe mentally ill? But I clearly remember going to bed before seven that night.

I honestly don’t know about any of this. But there is a pink hooded jacket in my wardrobe that’s dirty, and my dress shoes are covered in black mud. I’m not lying, Teacher Xing, please help me!”