Chapter Fifty-One: Pillar of the Soul

The moment Xu Wenrui’s mother spoke, Yan Xue and Kang Ge exchanged a glance. It was clear that this mother was well aware that her son's conduct outside was not as exemplary as she had once insisted. In their early interactions, whether for the sake of appearances or her son’s reputation, she had gone to great lengths to defend him, forbidding even the slightest negative remark—even the suggestion that Xu Wenrui was the target of envy was unacceptable.

But now, upon hearing that her son’s death was tied to the contents of the tea sachets, and realizing that her own household could be excluded from suspicion, she naturally shifted her focus to the school. Yet even as she demanded that the truth be thoroughly investigated, she couldn’t help but shield her son—suggesting that any tarnishing of his name was born of jealousy.

Yan Xue found herself at a loss as to how to judge this kind of maternal behavior. Was it love, so fierce that it became blind? Was it an inability to let go of pride, even now, when faced with the harshest reality?

“Please rest assured, we will uncover the truth. We will not wrong a good person, nor let a criminal go unpunished.” Kang Ge, with an air of utmost seriousness, patted his chest and made his vow to Xu Wenrui’s mother. “When you buy the raw materials for these medicinal teas, how do you typically store them? How much do you buy at a time, and how long does it last Wenrui?”

Xu Wenrui’s mother seemed reassured by Kang Ge’s solemn promise and allowed herself to relax a little. “I usually buy the materials from the pharmacy, give them a bit of processing—not too large, not too finely chopped—then air them in a plastic basket like this. After they’re dried, I seal them into the tea sachets I purchase. These things don’t keep fresh for long, especially since they’re homemade without all those additives you find in factory-made products. So I only make enough for a week. When Wenrui comes home on the weekends, I give him the next week’s supply to take back.”

“So, Xu Wenrui had been drinking this medicinal tea again for about half a year, but only recently began showing symptoms of discomfort? Could you recall roughly when that started? I know he spends most of his time at school, but surely when he came home on weekends, there must have been some sign, however small. Anything out of the ordinary counts,” Yan Xue pressed gently.

“Well… we didn’t notice anything. This child never brought home bad news, only good. Even on weekends, he might not stay the night—just dropped off dirty clothes, picked up what he needed, had a meal, and at most stayed one night before heading back to school. And even when he did stay, he mostly shut himself in his room to play games or use his phone,” Xu Wenrui’s father replied with some difficulty.

No sooner had he spoken than Xu Wenrui’s mother let out a strangled wail beside him, seemingly on the verge of breaking down completely. But after just a couple of sobs, it was as if she couldn’t catch her breath; her eyes rolled back and she fainted.

Xu Wenrui’s father reacted swiftly but without panic, and with Kang Ge’s help, they supported her back to her room to rest. After ensuring her pulse and general condition were stable, he stepped out to rejoin the two investigators.

“I must apologize—we have failed as parents!” He sighed heavily, gesturing toward a small basket of unbagged medicinal tea ingredients. “If you need to take these for testing, please do. I’ll also write down the name of the doctor who prescribed the recipe and where we bought the herbs. It’s the least we can do to help.”

True to his word, Xu Wenrui’s father quickly found pen and paper, wrote down everything he could recall, and handed the notes to Kang Ge.

“We never imagined anything at home could be responsible for what happened to our son. If we’d even suspected, you wouldn’t have had to come ask—we’d have delivered these things to you ourselves,” he added, remorseful.

“It’s not too late. Thank you,” Kang Ge replied as he accepted the list.

When they left the Xu home, Xu Wenrui’s mother either hadn’t woken or simply refused to discuss the matter further, never emerging from the bedroom. Xu Wenrui’s father insisted on seeing Kang Ge and Yan Xue out, his determination unwavering despite their polite refusals.

Sensing there was more on his mind, they let him accompany them down the stairs and out to the entrance of the residential complex.

“Mr. Xu, if you have something to say, you’d better do it now—otherwise we’re about to drive off,” Kang Ge teased lightly as they paused at the gate, breaking the awkward silence.

Mr. Xu wrung his hands, hesitating several times before finally summoning the courage to speak. “I have an unreasonable request, but I hope you’ll grant it. When there’s progress in Wenrui’s case—when the culprit is brought to justice—could you please just notify me? Don’t tell my wife.”

Yan Xue was taken aback. “Of course, we’ll inform the family as soon as there’s news. That’s our duty.”

“No, that’s not what I mean…” Mr. Xu waved his hands, his face flushing with anxiety. “I mean, just tell me—don’t let my wife know.”

Yan Xue was puzzled. “Why? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“I know it sounds strange and unreasonable, but I’m truly at my wits’ end. I’m the only one in our family still holding on—you’ve seen my wife’s state, and my mother’s suffered a huge shock as well. Those two have been arguing nonstop; my sister has taken my parents in for a while, or I’d have collapsed by now too.” His face was drawn with worry.

Both Yan Xue and Kang Ge understood the tension between Xu Wenrui’s mother and grandmother. Keeping the two under one roof, especially at such a time, would only intensify their mutual torment, risking both their lives—and further wearing down Mr. Xu, who was already at his limit.

“My wife is strong-willed, especially regarding our son. Wenrui is her entire hope. Over the years, she’s struggled, always fearing to fall behind others, never willing to admit defeat. I’m not a successful man; I haven’t provided a better life for her or Wenrui. She poured all her energy into raising him, hoping he’d surpass us, live a better life. To her, Wenrui wasn’t just our child—he was her spiritual anchor. When he got into K University, it was as if a light shone in her life, filling her with renewed hope.

She pinned all her hopes on him—he was her greatest achievement. Now, with his death, we’re all heartbroken, but the blow to her is the greatest. She clings to the hope that the case will be solved. I fear that when it is, she’ll feel her last purpose is gone, and lose the will to live. What should I do then?”

There was no denying the validity of Mr. Xu’s concern. In the face of devastating loss, many need a thread of hope to hold on to, a lifeline to keep them going.

“You’re right. We’ll respect your wishes,” Kang Ge agreed after a moment’s thought.

Mr. Xu breathed a sigh of relief and was about to offer his thanks when Kang Ge continued, gesturing toward the apartment complex. “Forgive me for asking, but when we were at the police station, wasn’t there a family friend of yours present? Didn’t both your families live here? Who moved in first?”

“They did,” Mr. Xu admitted, a little embarrassed. “They’re better off than we are. When this complex was new, they bought their place outright. Ours was harder—these apartments were more expensive than the city average, and most were large units. Only a few smaller ones were built from leftover space. But my wife insisted we move here too. She’d grown up with Mrs. Yang, always competing with her—she couldn’t accept that just because her friend married better, she could live here while we couldn’t. In the end, I gave in. We sold our old apartment and my parents’ too, just to afford this one.”

“So, compared to them, was Xu Wenrui the one thing that gave your family an edge?”

“Not necessarily. Their son, Gao Yang, is a good kid—steady and well-behaved. As a father, I shouldn’t say this, especially now that Wenrui is gone… But if it were up to me, I’d rather have Wenrui be like Gao Yang—perhaps less remarkable, but steady and down-to-earth. No need to stand out, no need to chase after glory. Most people aren’t famous or distinguished; most live quiet, ordinary lives. That’s enough. Why exhaust yourself competing with everyone?

I used to think, Wenrui’s young—at twenty, it’s natural to want to stand out. He wouldn’t have listened to me then, but later, when he matured, I’d explain it to him. But now… I’ll never have that chance again.”

As he spoke, grief overtook Mr. Xu and tears slid down his face.

After some gentle comfort, he managed to compose himself, bade farewell to Kang Ge and Yan Xue, and returned to care for his devastated wife. Whether by sheer will or by gritting his teeth, there was no denying that their family could bear no further hardship.

Once separated from Mr. Xu, their first priority was to deliver the medicinal tea ingredients to the bureau for forensic analysis. Unexpectedly, there was more news waiting when they arrived.

The security office had provided surveillance footage, which Qi Tianhua and his colleagues had painstakingly reviewed. In one video—initially given little hope—they discovered a suspicious figure: a man in his forties who appeared repeatedly on cameras around K University. Sometimes, he showed up shortly after Xu Wenrui passed by; other times, he loitered in the area, acting furtive and suspicious.

Though there was no proof he was connected to Xu Wenrui’s death, nor even that he knew him, the surveillance footage didn’t lie. At the very least, this man warranted investigation.

Qi Tianhua ran an initial check against the man’s facial features, quickly ruling out the possibility that he was an escaped felon or an ex-convict with a record. Without a criminal background, his identity couldn’t be confirmed rapidly—so the only option left was to lay in wait around K University.

Yet, if this man was truly involved, why would he risk reappearing near the campus now, knowing Xu Wenrui was dead?