Part 31
“These people are all idiots!”
“Is cursing useful now? Someone has committed suicide, their fate is unknown—shouldn’t we be praying for them? Friends in the area, please help search for the person. We need to make use of every second!”
“The people who caused trouble at Wang Mama’s company yesterday should go and kneel to apologize themselves!”
“Kindness is being exploited, and people’s hearts are being used. What’s even more despicable is the capital behind the scenes. Stop creating internal divisions and conflicts. We demand an explanation from No.1 High School!”
“They can’t give an explanation; they’ve already been taken away for investigation. The police responded very quickly this time.”
“What’s going on with the students at No.1 High School? Who could have imagined things would turn out like this!”
Once someone is proven to have lied, the public instinctively becomes suspicious of them. Even without clear evidence, everyone already believed everything The Vault said in the video. They also assumed the injuries on The Vault’s face were caused by school staff beating her.
Meanwhile, the official media urgently released another interview video.
Unlike the previous media outlet, this time, they entered the school as soon as it opened and directly interviewed students from Wendy Ward’s class.
Not those students who speculated and judged on their own, but the students from Class (1), the source of the information.
The reporter asked, “Do you know Wendy Ward?”
The student replied sullenly, “Yes?”
The reporter asked, “Did she ever act violently toward Nathan Sanders?”
“No. She never hit anyone.”
“Then did she engage in psychological bullying?”
“I don’t know how to say it. She just deliberately tried to scare Samuel North.”
“How did she scare her? To what extent? I heard some students say she pretended to be spooky on purpose to frighten people, is that true?”
The interviewed student’s voice grew quieter, and he replied, “I never saw that. She just used those little toys to scare people.”
The reporter took out a small toy box and asked, “Like this?”
The student said, “Yes.”
The reporter pressed the switch on the box. As the lid slid back, a black rubber spider popped out. He asked, “So she used a toy like this to scare Nathan Sanders into suicide, is that what you all think?”
The student fell silent. His face was blurred out, so his expression was unclear, but his shame was almost impossible to hide.
The reporter asked again, “Does anyone at school pretend to be spooky? I heard some students say it’s true, and it’s pretty serious.”
The interviewee still remained silent, unwilling to speak.
The reporter pressed further, “Is there?”
The student answered, “Yes.”
Reporter: “Who is the target?”
The student seemed embarrassed: “Wendy Ward.”
Reporter: “Let me confirm, it’s Wendy Ward who was being scared, right?”
“Yes. Everyone just wanted to get revenge for Nathan Sanders.”
The reporter asked again, “Did Wendy Ward lead the class in ostracizing Nathan Sanders?”
“No. She just didn’t like playing with her.”
“Do you think this counts as school bullying? Do you think she should be called a murderer?”
The student fell silent again.
The reporter’s voice was calm, but every question was sharp: “Did you know she attempted suicide to prove her innocence?”
A choking sound could be heard in the footage. The student raised his hand to wipe his glasses.
“Why did you all do this?”
Student: “Everyone at school was saying so.”
Reporter: “But didn’t the rumors start from your class?”
“The teachers and school leaders were hinting at it. When Nathan Sanders’s mother was negotiating with the principal, someone overheard.” The student said, “I didn’t think too much about it.”
The reporter also fell silent. After a while, he asked, “Do you know what I want to say?”
The student hung his head low.
Reporter: “You are... the pillars of our society’s future, you know? Everyone has high expectations for you. But with a tragedy like this, I really can’t imagine it.”
Student: “How is she now?”
“That’s good,” the reporter said. “You finally asked that question. But I don’t know either. At this time of year, the river flows fast. She jumped in holding a rock. So far, no body has been found under the bridge, and the rescue team is expanding the search area.”
The reporter checked his watch: “It’s been two hours since she jumped, and there’s still no news. Now the police are mobilizing citizens to search downstream. Do you know what that means?”
The student broke down in tears.
Reporter: “I’m not forcing you. I hope you all will be okay.”
The student said guiltily, “I’m sorry.”
Reporter: “I hope you’ll have the chance to say sorry to Wendy Ward in person.”
The student nodded and asked, “Can I help look for her?”
“That’s not something you need to ask me,” the reporter said. “If you think it’s necessary, you can go. If you need to calm down, take care of yourself first. Life is precious. I don’t want to see any more tragedies like this.”
The student said again, “I’m sorry. I really am sorry...”
·
Wendy Ward’s suicide and the reversal of the situation became a sharp blade, stabbing deeply into everyone’s hearts. Whether they were involved or not, everyone felt a deep pain.
They were angry, but had nowhere to vent.
They were silent, but couldn’t bear the guilt.
In their hearts, more or less, a thorn remained—guilt over Wendy Ward’s death, shame for the unfortunate, and self-reflection and regret for their own arrogance.
All the emotions that had erupted turned into a new force, silently sparking a revolution against cyberbullying.
Soon after, a massive, spontaneous “Search for Wendy Ward” campaign began in the city.
Chapter 19: Rescue
Julian Grant stood on the riverbank, watching the flowing water, his figure as still as a statue.
Passersby who came to help search kept moving around, and the name “Wendy Ward” echoed in the air, never fading. Dense muddy footprints stretched far along the roadside, but not a single one led to where The Vault was.
Someone brought flowers and placed them on both sides of the road. Someone lit candles to pray for her. Netizens spontaneously created related topics, hoping for her safe return. Reporters stayed at the bridge, waiting for first-hand news.
Society is sometimes a strange collective. When it’s ruthless, it can be extremely cruel, turning its blade on innocent victims. But when it’s kind, it can be especially gentle, showing kindness to a complete stranger.
The light and darkness you speak of depend entirely on which side you see, and which side you’re experiencing.
But they’re not completely opposed. Those who keep moving toward the sun always have hope of seeing the light again.
Every minute and second of the rescue was precious. But as time went on, everyone had lost hope for Wendy Ward’s survival. They only wished to recover her body as soon as possible, to give everyone an answer, and to give this kind girl some closure.
“You win.” Julian Grant stared at the restless river. “But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to hit you.”
His expression at this moment could only be described as ferocious.
What angered Julian Grant most wasn’t that The Vault lied to him or acted on her own. It was that, after he expressed his concern and told her to come back soon, that woman—who could lie without batting an eye—just calmly replied, “Mm.”
“Mm”?
What right did she have to say “Mm”?!
A police officer under Julian Grant came over, saw his expression, and hesitated to approach, calling out, “Boss... should we withdraw the people here and move downstream? I think Wendy Ward...”
Julian Grant said angrily, “She won’t die.”
Julian Grant remembered The Vault once said that if she could choose, she’d always choose to live. If she had to commit suicide, she’d choose a way that wouldn’t kill her.
Would someone as smart as her give in so easily?
Someone so petty that if you made her kowtow, she’d want to drag you back to kneel before her ancestors—how could she possibly sacrifice her life for a few scumbags? Not even in a game.
That’s a terrible deal.
Julian Grant repeated firmly, “She won’t die.”
The young policeman said, “But...”
Julian Grant wiped his face hard, picked up a stone by the roadside, weighed it in his hands, and held it in his arms.
What a coincidence.
He wasn’t someone who gave up easily, either.
He said he’d bring her out alive, so he would bring her out alive.
Julian Grant hugged the stone and walked onto the bridge.
Several rescue workers on a boat in the river looked up and noticed his actions, sensing something was wrong, and shouted, “Hey—”
“Boss!”
By the time they reacted, Julian Grant had already jumped in with a splash.
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