Chapter Thirty-Eight: Interference

Hearing this, Kango simply smiled and glanced at his watch. “I still need to study in the library this afternoon, so we should have a good lunch. Whether we drink or not doesn’t matter—now that the weather’s cool, let’s eat something comfortable and warming, so we won’t feel cold sitting in the library later! We won’t take up more of your time. Isn’t this ideal? You’ve had a mental break after that long class, and we won’t need to trouble you again—saves us both time, a win-win!”

A slight twitch passed over Zhuang Fukai’s cheek, but fortunately his taciturn nature kept him from commenting. He only nodded, then turned and began to make his way down from the stands.

“Hey! Wait a second!” Kango, as if suddenly recalling something, smacked his forehead and hurried after him. “There’s one more thing I almost forgot to ask—can you give me Deng Chun’s contact information? I’d like to talk to her and get her perspective, since, after all, she’s also one of Xu Wenrui’s ex-girlfriends.”

“What business do you have bothering her now?” Unexpectedly, Zhuang Fukai’s face darkened at this request. “You said it yourself: ex-girlfriend. They broke up ages ago, and after that, Xu Wenrui got involved with that girl Bei Bei. Deng Chun has had nothing to do with him for a long time.

She was the innocent party dragged into that relationship and treated unfairly. Now that she’s finally free of Xu Wenrui, you can’t just go and disturb her for no reason, disrupting her life!”

Kango paused, confronted by Zhuang Fukai’s righteous and serious expression. He raised both hands in a gesture of surrender and nodded, dropping the subject of Deng Chun’s information. Only then did Zhuang Fukai, still somewhat displeased, shoot him a glance before quickly striding down the stand, crossing the field without looking back and disappearing into the distance.

Kango stood there, watching Zhuang Fukai leave, deep in thought. Only when Zhuang had left the field, his figure no longer visible, did he turn to call out to Yan Xue. “Let’s go! Now that we’ve talked to Zhuang Fukai, we can investigate just how widespread the news of Xu Wenrui’s death actually is within the university.”

“Alright, let’s go!” Yan Xue agreed readily. “You handled that really well! Facing someone as stubborn and reticent as Zhuang Fukai, only someone as thick-skinned as you could manage it. Anyone more timid would probably have been cowed by his refusal and ruined the mood for cooperation.”

“It’s not particularly difficult,” said Kango, raising his brows at Yan Xue with mock seriousness. “It’s all about keeping an open mind.”

“What kind of open mind gives you that effect?” Yan Xue asked.

“The kind that comes from the fearlessness of the young! Why is a young calf unafraid of a tiger? Because it doesn’t recognize danger—so, in a way, it’s even bolder than the tiger! So, whatever excuse they give, just act as if you don’t understand. You were right just now—at times like these, you need a thick skin.”

“You’re surprisingly frank!” Yan Xue laughed. “No one else would describe being thick-skinned as a virtue!”

“There’s a difference between being thick-skinned and being shameless. As the saying goes, ‘The thick-skinned eat well, the thin-skinned go hungry.’ A little thickness is no harm, but becoming truly shameless is unacceptable!” Kango replied with great energy.

Yan Xue shook with laughter. Her time with Kango hadn’t been long, but she’d already heard many of his peculiar theories. Though they sounded far-fetched at first, on reflection, there always seemed to be some truth in them. He always seemed carefree and unserious, yet at moments, a depth and gravity would shine through. He talked a lot, often in riddles, and never acted conventionally, but somehow, he always had his own method. Yan Xue had never met anyone quite like him before, and her curiosity only grew.

The two of them left the sports field and wandered around the campus of K University. As noon approached, the campus grew busier. Kango deliberately sought out the most crowded areas, and soon they discovered that news of Xu Wenrui’s death had not spread as widely as they’d imagined. It hadn’t caused much of a stir in the university at large.

They’d heard some students discussing it in the cafeteria that morning, and Zhuang Fukai had said he overheard it in class, which suggested that the news was probably circulating within Xu Wenrui’s own department or faculty. Other faculties and students seemed entirely unaware that a student had died under unusual circumstances.

“I’m curious whether Xu Wenrui’s fan base from the campus singing competitions knows what happened to him. If they don’t, then it wasn’t his fans spreading the news. If they do, it means Xu Wenrui was only a bit more popular than the average student—not really a campus celebrity,” Yan Xue concluded.

“Let’s get lunch,” Kango suggested, checking the time. “Afterward, we’ll go talk to Xu Wenrui’s academic advisor. He’s probably eating now anyway; there’s no point looking for him yet. After lunch, it’ll be the midday break, so he’ll have time for us.”

“Alright. I thought you’d drag me off to see if we could have a ‘chance encounter’ with Xu Hao!” Yan Xue joked. “But thinking about it, that seems unlikely. From what Xu Hao texted Zhuang Fukai, they’re meeting for lunch off-campus. There are plenty of restaurants around K University, and even if you narrow it down to barbecue places, it’s still hard to find them.”

“That’s not it,” Kango said with a hint of mischief. “I can pretty much guess which place Xu Hao picked. Do you remember yesterday, when we were coming back with Xu Hao and passed that street full of restaurants? At one barbecue place, the waiter at the door greeted Xu Hao like an old friend.”

Now that he mentioned it, Yan Xue recalled the detail. Among all the restaurants, only that one seemed especially familiar with Xu Hao. And in Xu Hao’s message to Zhuang Fukai, he’d referred to meeting at ‘the usual place,’ so it was clearly a place he frequented—a spot Zhuang would recognize instantly.

“If you know where, why didn’t you want to try a ‘chance encounter’ anyway? Worried Zhuang Fukai might go too?” she asked.

“Not really. I’d bet Zhuang Fukai won’t show up. After being grilled by us for so long and then chased down for Deng Chun’s contact info, I doubt he’s in the mood for barbecue with a cheerful Xu Hao,” Kango laughed.

“Fine, then let’s go eat and talk to the advisor afterward. Yesterday, the school insisted we keep things quiet to avoid panic, but today, half the student body already knows. I’d like to know who couldn’t keep their mouth shut.”

They had lunch at another well-known cafeteria on campus, thanks to Kango’s prior research. The food was good and inexpensive, and as Yan Xue finished her meal, she realized she felt better than she usually did when running around for interviews.

“Working with you, I feel like my pace has slowed down, but the results are just as good!” Yan Xue remarked as they walked. “Why didn’t you transfer back earlier? I could have avoided so many hungry afternoons!”

“Different people, different styles,” Kango replied with a broad grin, stretching lazily. “Some like to exhaust themselves, but I believe in sharpening the axe before chopping wood. When hardship is necessary, I don’t shy away, but if I can be comfortable, why make life harder than it already is? Humans have it tougher than any other creature! Animals just follow the laws of nature: survival of the fittest, no moral constraints—everything is justified by survival.

But people are different. We can’t just disregard nature’s laws, and we have to follow society’s rules. We have to look out for ourselves without being selfish, keep the greater good in mind but not overlook the small things, develop civilization yet balance relations with nature, even guard against alien invasions and the Big Bang! So, given all the burdens we carry, shouldn’t we be kind to ourselves too?”

“You make humanity sound so tragic—I almost want to pat myself on the back,” Yan Xue laughed.

With a cheerful grin, Kango patted her shoulder. “No need to do it yourself—I’ll do it for you!”

When they found the advisor again, he was resting in his office. The moment Kango and Yan Xue stepped in, he recognized them and got up, looking slightly anxious.

“Oh, you’re here. Is there… anything else I can help with?” he asked cautiously.

“No need to be nervous!” Kango waved his hand. “We’re just following up with some interviews and dropped by to see you. Mainly, we wanted to ask if the news of Xu Wenrui’s death has been spreading among the students and if it’s had any negative impact.”