Redemption from the Abyss: The School Beauty Insists on Pulling Me Out of the Mire

The black Cullinan, like a steady deep-sea behemoth, glided silently along the expressway from Royal Bay back to the city. The neon lights outside the car window, shimmering and colorful, were cut into a silent film by the top-quality soundproof glass.

While gripping the steering wheel, Lu Wen kept glancing at Xie Wang beside him. After five minutes of holding back, the young master Lu finally couldn't contain himself any longer.

"Wangzi, stop laughing like that, it's creepy." Lu Wen swallowed hard, still finding it unbelievable: "You just said there was no problem, were you serious? Lin Wanyi, that notoriously tough woman, really didn't give you any trouble? I didn't see any red marks on your face from where you threw a check?"

Xie Wang leaned back lazily in the leather seat, feeling more relaxed than ever before. The tension that had been gripping his nerves had finally eased.

"Maybe," Xie Wang said casually, glancing at the rapidly receding street scene outside the window, "it's because I'm nice to Su Qinghe, isn't it?"

"Tch, so cheesy." Lu Wen shuddered, breaking out in goosebumps.

[9:30 PM · Su Family Villa]

Meanwhile, in Yujing Bay, the door to the master bedroom on the second floor of the Su family's house was ajar. Su Qinghe stood at the door, took a deep breath, and knocked.

"Come in." Lin Wanyi's voice came from inside, sounding somewhat languid, having shed her sternness from the day. Su Qinghe pushed open the door and saw his mother sitting at the dressing table removing her makeup, while his father leaned against the headboard reading a book.

"Mom." Su Qinghe didn't beat around the bush and went straight to her mother, her gaze fixed intently on her eyes: "I want to ask... about Xie Wang's mother. At the dinner table, did you really only remember her because you read about her in the newspaper?"

Lin Wanyi paused for a moment while removing her makeup, then resumed her normal movements, smoothly picking up a cotton pad to wipe her face. "Why are you suddenly asking this?" She glanced at her daughter through the mirror, her eyes carrying a perfectly measured hint of weariness and helplessness: "Qinghe, things in the business world are complicated. That incident back then certainly caused quite a stir, but I remember that name purely out of pity. After all, we're both women, and I've heard she was incredibly talented... that's all."

"Are you really not connected in any other way?" Su Qinghe pressed.

Lin Wanyi turned around and gently patted Su Qinghe's hand. Her tone was gentle but revealed a resolute reluctance to talk about it: "It's all old news from more than ten years ago. Even Xie Wang himself said it's in the past. Don't worry about it. Some things, once they're over, should be left in the past. Bringing up old grievances won't do anyone any good. Go to sleep early."

It was the same again—a gentle deflection, seemingly flawless, yet like looking through a thick layer of cotton, revealing no truth whatsoever. Su Qinghe looked at his mother's well-preserved yet enigmatic face, remained silent for two seconds, and nodded: "I understand, goodnight, Mom and Dad."

Back in her room, Su Qinghe didn't sleep. She locked the door and turned on her laptop. Scenes from the dinner table replayed in her mind—the moment Xie Wang's expression dimmed when he mentioned his mother, that pained calm, and the fleeting panic her mother had just experienced.

Her intuition told her that her mother was lying.

His fingers flew across the keyboard, typing in a series of keywords such as "Xie Wan" and "Xie Zhengyang car accident".

Pressing the Enter key resulted in a blank screen. "Sorry, no results found." "In accordance with relevant laws and regulations, some search results are not displayed."

Su Qinghe refused to believe it and tried several other search engines, but the results were still the same. Apart from a few snippets about Xie Zhengyang's later alleged fraud, the name "Xie Wan" seemed to have been completely erased from the internet.

In this age of information overload, having no trace is the greatest trace of all.

Su Qinghe stared at the glaring "404" on the screen. The cold light reflected off her pale skin and glasses, sending a chill through her. Since she couldn't find it online, she'd check the printed documents—those yellowed old newspapers and files—surely they weren't deleted too?

She closed her laptop, glanced at the calendar, and saw that tomorrow was Monday, and the provincial library's old newspaper and magazine reading room would be open all day.

……

[1:00 PM the following afternoon · Provincial Library Old Newspaper and Periodical Reading Room]

Few people visit the fourth floor of the provincial library. It houses bound volumes of all newspapers published since the founding of the People's Republic of China. Tall mahogany bookshelves stretch all the way to the ceiling, and the air is filled with the musty smell of old paper mixed with a faint scent of mothballs. The only sound is the occasional rustling of pages turning.

Su Qinghe sat alone at a large reading table in the corner, several thick bound volumes of newspapers with worn covers piled in front of her. She had been there since the library opened that morning. For five hours, she hadn't drunk a drop of water, and her fingers had become dry and blackened from turning the rough pages for so long.

"2005...2006..." Su Qinghe murmured the years, her eyes sharp as she searched for that name among the dense print. Although the online data had been completely deleted, she was betting that those people couldn't destroy every physical newspaper scattered among the people.

Finally, as she opened a bound volume of the June 2005 issue of "Jiangcheng Financial Daily," her fingers suddenly stopped.

It was a black-and-white photograph that occupied a corner of the newspaper. Although the printing quality was somewhat rough back then, the figures in the photo were still clearly visible. The background was the iconic gate of Jiangcheng University, with a banner that read "2005 National Undergraduate Mathematical Modeling Contest Award Ceremony." A group of young people in graduation gowns stood there, holding certificates and trophies, their faces radiating the spiritedness unique to that era.

Su Qinghe's gaze was instantly drawn to the girl standing in the center. She had shoulder-length short hair, gentle features, and clear yet resilient eyes. Although Su Qinghe had never met Xie Wang's mother, the striking resemblance between her eyes and brows to Xie Wang made her recognize her at a glance. It was Xie Wan in her youth.

Beside Xie Wan, separated by one person, stood another figure that Su Qinghe knew all too well.

The first paragraph reads: "The gold medal in this year's mathematical modeling competition was won by the Department of Finance at Jiangcheng University. Lead debater Xie Wan impressed the judges with her stunning algorithmic model, and her classmates Lin Wanyi and others also performed exceptionally well, bringing glory to the university..."

Classmates, receiving awards together.

Su Qinghe's hands trembled as he continued flipping through the pages. He came across a news article from 2007: "Tianlong Group Adds Another Powerful Talent: Jiang University's Talented Woman Xie Wan Appointed Chief Financial Architect"

However, Su Qinghe's hand didn't stop turning the pages. Because she knew that the story wouldn't end with flowers and applause.

Nothing happened in 2008. Nothing happened in 2009. Until I opened a bound volume of old newspapers from 2012.

It was a newspaper issue from late autumn. In the most inconspicuous corner of the paper, tucked among a pile of missing person notices and lost item declarations, there was a short news item no bigger than the palm of a hand:

A serious car accident occurred on Binjiang Road yesterday, resulting in the immediate death of a woman.

The report contained only a few words: "At 2:00 AM yesterday, a serious rear-end collision occurred on the Binjiang Road overpass. A black sedan lost control, crashed through the guardrail, and plunged into the river. The driver died at the scene. Preliminary investigations have confirmed that the deceased was Ms. Xie (female, 34 years old), a former finance employee of a company in our city. The cause of the accident is under further investigation..."

Su Qinghe's heart clenched. What happened between 2007 and 2012?

She continued flipping through the pages, trying to find the follow-up "investigation results." Nothing. The text message was like a pebble thrown into the deep sea; it vanished without a ripple. All information about "Xie Wan" afterward seemed to have been forcibly erased from the city's memory by an invisible hand.

Su Qinghe stared at the text message, her fingertips growing cold.

She took out her phone, pointed it at the yellowed old newspaper, especially at Xie Wan's confident smile, and pressed the shutter. "Click." The soft sound was particularly clear in the quiet afternoon.

She has to figure this out.