Chapter Thirty-Six: The Zhou Family Bows Their Heads

Qin Mu’s appearance was so abrupt, and the words he uttered even more so, that everyone at the school was left momentarily stunned.

“My friend, just what are you talking about?” Huang Tiancheng shook his head, thinking Qin Mu was accusing Su Zhi of twisting the truth.

“I’m saying your school’s conduct is truly exemplary—a model for all your students,” Qin Mu declared, his eyes fixed on the group of leaders at the front. Even without a microphone, his voice rang out across the entire sports field, louder and clearer than any amplifier.

“You convict someone solely based on a handful of photographs?”

“Every single photo is genuine—of course that’s enough!” Huang Tiancheng answered, puffing out his chest, the picture of defiance.

“How laughable!” Qin Mu retorted. “These so-called photos—if you cared to investigate, you could have visited the scene for the first half. Yet your school authorities did nothing. Instead, you’ve twisted the meaning of these snapshots, using them to slander and convict, all for the sake of currying favor with the Zhou family?”

His words made the faces of the school leaders turn green, then purple, in quick succession.

Onstage, Su Zhi had been nearly hopeless. She had no family to speak of, and if Huang Tiancheng and the others were determined to frame her, she hadn’t the power to resist.

And yet now, she gazed toward the very end, at the only one willing to speak on her behalf.

This old classmate of hers had stood up for her more than once in times of trouble.

“Qin Mu…”

“Who is this troublemaker?” someone snapped. “Where’s security? Get him out of here at once!”

Sensing things taking a bad turn, the leaders summoned the security guards, intent on removing this interloper.

But as soon as the guards approached, they shrank back, intimidated by Wu Mu’s towering, mountain-like presence.

Most of them had landed these jobs through connections, coasting by on their paychecks with no real intention of working—how could they possibly stand up to someone as imposing as Wu Mu?

“So, you want to warn the entire faculty and student body?” Qin Mu continued. “Let me tell you exactly what crime Su Zhi has committed. When her family was drowning in debt, she shouldn’t have tried to work it off, but should have stayed at home, followed the rules, and waited for the creditors to come knocking—so they could force her to pay with her own body.”

“And when that time came, she should have obeyed, let herself be taken as the rules require, shouldn’t she? Isn’t that what your precious school regulations demand?”

At that, a clamor swept the sports field.

Most of those present had heard rumors about Su Zhi’s father, a notorious gambler.

Huang Tiancheng’s face was livid as he forced out, “Hmph! Even if it’s to pay off debts, she shouldn’t have gone to those kinds of disreputable places, doing things that bring shame to her name!”

Beside him, Wu Mu let out a cold laugh and sent a message with his phone.

Suddenly, the images on the display screen changed, replaced by a video clip.

There, Su Zhi appeared in the same hostess uniform as in the photographs, the background awash with dazzling lights—many recognized the setting as the Oriental Pearl Nightclub.

The school leaders were taken aback, but soon exchanged knowing smiles—wasn’t this helping their case?

Yet as the video played on, it showed Su Zhi carrying a glass of wine over to a portly businessman.

“Come, sit over here with me,” the man said.

“No, thank you, Mr. Li. Please, enjoy your drink,” Su Zhi replied, shaking her head and trying to escape. But the man, aggressive and unyielding, grabbed her and pulled her back.

“Mr. Li, please have some respect!” Su Zhi struggled free, only for Mr. Li to slap her across the face.

“Still pretending? Every woman who comes here is selling herself!”

“I’m just serving drinks, nothing more!”

No matter how he tried to pull her back, Su Zhi fled the room in terror.

Offscreen, the voice of the nightclub manager, Ms. Xin, could be heard berating Su Zhi harshly.

When the video ended, Qin Mu demanded, “So tell me, this is what you call licentious? Ruining the school’s reputation?”

“Th-this… This could all be staged…” Huang Tiancheng stammered, sweat beading on his brow.

“If this could be staged,” Qin Mu replied, hands in his pockets and a hint of mockery in his tone, “then why couldn’t the Zhou family’s photos be staged as well?”

Huang Tiancheng wiped the sweat from his forehead with trembling hands.

“And how do you explain these later photos? These are real bed photos!” another called out.

“Are they?” Qin Mu answered calmly.

The display changed again, this time to a series of even more explicit photos—with heavy blurring in the necessary places, but the faces left deliberately clear.

And the faces in these photos belonged to the very school leaders who had been trying to smear Su Zhi.

In the pictures, these men looked utterly pleased with themselves, but to the students watching, the sight was so ridiculous that bursts of laughter erupted across the field.

“What’s going on? Where did these come from?” a school leader shouted at the technician running the display.

Their faces were now as green as turtle shells.

These images weren’t doctored the way Su Zhi’s had been—they were genuine souvenirs from the leaders’ escapades.

How could these have fallen into Qin Mu’s hands?

“I don’t know!” the technician stammered in panic. “It’s like someone hacked into my computer and is remotely controlling it!”

At this, the leaders turned deathly pale, glancing uneasily at Qin Mu.

This young man who drove a Bugatti Veyron, who had exuded an extraordinary air from the moment he arrived—could he really have such formidable means?

“Our Zhou family presented the original evidence. Yours is mere after-the-fact patching up—it surely doesn’t have the same weight,” Zhou Hong finally interjected, rising with a flourish and speaking with calm self-assurance.

“With the Zhou family’s reputation, we would never go to such lengths to slander a mere teacher. It’s only because this teacher allegedly harassed our young master Zhou Ming that we cannot let it go unpunished.”

“And besides, if she really did nothing wrong, why would such rumors spread, why would she be under suspicion?”

A true old fox, Zhou Hong’s words sounded righteous and reasonable, even as he twisted logic to suit his needs.

“Who are you anyway? What right do you have to make declarations here? I am Zhou Hong, brother to the head of the Zhou family. In the name of the Zhou family, I demand that you leave at once!”

He stood tall and proud, as if that identity alone set him above all others.