Chen Ziheng was out of province, dealing with matters for his parents. He told Cheng Shuo over the phone for them not to act rashly, and that they'd discuss it when he returned.

However, Li Aimin's attitude grew worse by the day. One day, Cen Zeng came back and calmly told Cheng Shuo that he had submitted a report letter to the university.

“I couldn't take it anymore.” He smiled.

Cheng Shuo looked at him, at a loss for words. He opened his arms, almost in a gesture of an embrace; the motion felt so absurd it was almost laughable.

Cen Zeng stepped forward and took his hands.

And so, they finally embraced. As the scent of the early spring breeze and fabric softener drifted over, Cheng Shuo, in their completely unambiguous embrace, had a random thought, 'Spring is coming.'

Then, of course, they hit a wall—with reporters, the university, and Senior Brother's friends.

The day after Cen Zeng submitted the report, Senior Sister followed suit. Zheng Yi tried to dissuade them, but it was useless.

In Senior Sister's words, this way, when they exposed the matter on Weibo, they could state that they had already exhausted internal channels and were forced to seek public resources.

Cen Zeng contacted Feng Shan and explained his purpose. The other party said they would ask Senior Brother's mother and father.

The news that came back was bad. They were sorry, they said, but the family members did not want to revisit that painful past.

Cheng Shuo and Cen Zeng looked at the message from Feng Shan together and let out a weary, helpless breath.

But Cheng Shuo hadn't expected to have such cold water thrown on them by Chen Ziheng as well.

Chen Ziheng, the guy who always wore designer brands, finally returned to the university. They arranged to meet in a conference room.

After listening to everything, he adjusted his glasses and frowned, saying, “What you did was very dangerous. You shouldn't have submitted the report letter to the university first. Li Aimin will certainly be on alert now.”

Zheng Yi asked him, “Then what else could we have done? Go straight to Weibo and expose him using our real names?”

“Bypass the university channels, don't give them a chance to prepare. Start anonymously, then reveal your real names—that's the best way. It would also be best to contact the previous victims' families and release the evidence from that time.”

“We already contacted them,” Cen Zeng replied. “The family refused.”

Chen Ziheng narrowed his eyes and said, Why are you only asking me for help now?

His tone was sharp. Cen Zeng immediately replied, lowering his head slightly, I'm sorry.

“There are no other options,” Cheng Shuo said. “The report letter has already been submitted anyway. Word will probably reach the department head, Li Aimin, and the hospital very soon.”

“Can you help us write the Weibo post?” he asked. “We want to expose this anonymously first, to get things started.”

“Since the report letter has already been submitted…” Chen Ziheng said, “I suggest Cen Zeng and Senior Sister use their real names.”

Zheng Yi frowned and replied, I don't think Senior Sister's mental state has been very good these past few days. Wouldn't the pressure of using her real name right from the start be a bit too much?

She exchanged a look with Cheng Shuo, hoping to get some support from him.

But unfortunately, Cen Zeng was the same as always—very calm and composed. He was someone who suffered from somatization of depression in silence; if Cen Zeng didn't want to show it, Cheng Shuo really couldn't tell anything was wrong.

On the evening of the fifth day after the report was submitted, the response was that the matter was still under investigation. The hospital and the university were completely quiet, as if they couldn't hear the students' voices at all. Cheng Shuo decided to pick him up from the hospital, telling him he was already on his way without asking first.

Cen Zeng didn't question it, simply saying, Then you can give Senior Sister a ride back to her dorm on the way.

When he got there, the two of them were standing by the door. Senior Sister looked pale. He heard Cen Zeng say, It's alright, this was mainly just to leave a record.

Cheng Shuo coughed, abruptly recalling their embrace.

He now finally gave his answer to Zheng Yi and Chen Ziheng: “I think so too. Let’s try posting anonymously first and see.”

Chen Ziheng looked at Zheng Yi, then at Cheng Shuo, and said that it would still be best to use their real names from the start to present the evidence, as the impact would be greater.

But it was Cen Zeng who spoke up. He replied, I’ll use my real name first. My situation isn't as severe as Senior Sister's, so we can use my case to draw attention first.

“At the very least…” He thought for a moment. “I also have a bit of a story that people might find interesting.”

No one said okay. Chen Ziheng hadn't looked at Cen Zeng the entire time, and he didn't turn his gaze now either.

His voice merely softened, “It’s just a suggestion. Ultimately, what you do depends on what you two are comfortable with.”

Zheng Yi nodded and said, We'll go discuss it with Senior Sister again. Once we have a plan, we can talk about the specific content and formatting.

Chen Ziheng left first, without looking back.

For some reason, Cheng Shuo recalled his past life, when he had said, 'I'm actually very nervous,' and 'Before I regret it.'

He was afraid, and rightfully so.

Then Cheng Shuo received a message from Zheng Yi in the new three-person group chat she had just made. It said, I’m still worried about Senior Sister. Can we please post anonymously first?

Cen Zeng replied quickly: Okay, don't worry too much. She seems gentle, but she's actually very strong.

Fortunately, the outcome was that Chen Ziheng and Zheng Yi both came over the next day, and the four of them discussed the exposé together. His words may have been harsh, but he still showed up.

Cen Zeng's evidence was almost identical to what he had in the last life, just a little bit less of it, with the addition of Li Aimin's harsher scoldings from the past few days. So much so that, when they were editing the clips, they even felt a bit at a loss.

They posted it the next day, starting with Cen Zeng's story. With a stony face, Chen Ziheng took on the task of monitoring public opinion. He reported that it had stirred up some discussion, but the university was deleting posts very quickly.

Cheng Shuo went to take a look. While most comments were supportive, there were also skeptical ones. Someone said, You'd just run off without getting your advisor's approval for leave?

Someone else made a few emotional remarks before feigning neutrality, saying, My advisor doesn't hold back when they scold me either. But they still give me work to do. Advisors are under a lot of pressure too, there's no need to blow things out of proportion.

Another person said, He seems so irresponsible. The thought of someone like him becoming a doctor is terrifying. For this last commenter, he clicked on their profile; their most recent post was a picture of their newborn child, with the caption—

“Mother and child are both safe. Thank you to the doctors, thank you to my wife. Daddy only hopes that you live a healthy life.”

Such touching words. But why, as a new father, could he say something like that?

But at least there were several thousand retweets.

There were people helping, people doxxing, people calling him melodramatic, and people spreading rumors—all kinds.

Cheng Shuo had seen online skepticism before, but it had never been directed at the victim like this. Reading the comments now, he still felt his heart race with alarm.

So, after getting Senior Sister's consent, they posted the WeChat records she had compiled and some of her audio recordings the following day.

At Zheng Yi's insistence, they held back some content that could have caused her secondary trauma.

Retweets, comments—they paid to boost the numbers.

The hashtags for sexual harassment and theft of academic achievements made it to the trending list, but were taken down not long after.

Not enough. Not enough retweets, not enough comments.

He neurotically refreshed the page, but a chill still crept into his heart.

Why? On what grounds? Was it because the victims weren't baring themselves completely for judgment?

Was it because a life had not yet been lost?

Did the person speaking out now have to completely and shamelessly carve open their own flesh and bone for their pain to not be treated so lightly, for it to be acknowledged?

They tried various social media platforms. Good intentions formed the majority of the response, but the malice never faded.

By the time he finished scrolling, he no longer knew how to react.

Then, Zheng Yi's call came.

She was on the other end of the line, her voice hoarse but steady: “Senior Sister and Cen Zeng were taken in for questioning by the department head.”

His mind went blank. He subconsciously opened WeChat and clicked on his chat with Cen Zeng. An hour ago, Cen Zeng had sent him a message: Someone wants to see us to tell us about the progress of the report. Don't worry, just think about what you want for dinner.

He stared at the message, able only to force a bitter smile.

Around five or six in the afternoon, Zheng Yi sent a message saying that Senior Sister had been temporarily suspended from working in the laboratory. I'm going to check on her now, we can meet tomorrow.

He sent a message to Cen Zeng: Is it over?

“It's over,” Cen Zeng replied. “They said they would conduct a thorough investigation and told us to avoid contact with Li Aimin for now. But they also said that the anonymous exposé posts from unknown online sources were a threat to the university's reputation and would interfere with due process.

If we knew who published them, we were to ask them to take them down. Senior Sister and I are planning to privately message the people in the laboratory tomorrow to see if they're willing to come forward with us.”

He spoke unhurriedly and methodically. After explaining all this, he even remembered to ask again, Have you decided what to eat?

On the other side of the chat window, Cheng Shuo stared at the still coffee table in the living room and felt a wave of nausea, like he wanted to vomit.

Now, the one left speechless was him.