MCFEM C20

Chapter 20: Such a Neurotic Plot

The truth of how Shen Mingjun and his mother climbed to their positions was revealed earlier in the novel, back in high school.

Roughly, it began when Shen Mingjun was competing with Song Yinxing for a certain competition spot. In terms of grades, Shen Mingjun couldn’t compare, so he tried threatening Song Yinxing into giving it up.

When that failed, he had his own family’s company fabricate rumors online, inciting a wave of cyberbullying. Leveraging the hype of “the city’s top student” and “the aristocratic school,” they accused Song Yinxing of falsifying his financial background to obtain aid, and of cheating in exams.

Almost immediately, so-called classmates jumped out to “confirm” it, posting photos of Song Yinxing drinking expensive coffee, and mentioning an earlier cheating incident where he supposedly shifted the blame onto an innocent seatmate by relying on his strong academic record.

During that period, Song Yinxing endured endless accusations. Netizens who knew nothing of the truth flooded the school’s official accounts demanding his expulsion. Teachers repeatedly called him in for talks. The financial aid documents he had already submitted were rejected and had to be reprocessed from scratch. Even walking down the street, he heard people whispering about him.

But by coincidence, Song Yinxing encountered the parents of Shen Shan’s first wife. They had always harbored suspicions about their daughter’s death.

Unwilling to swallow the injustice, Song Yinxing joined hands with them. They tracked down the maid who had once been bribed, and she still held evidence of Zhou Yinyin’s private purchase of poison.

With this, they sent Zhou Yinyin and her son to prison, and Shen Shan—who had enabled it all—was thoroughly ruined.

Song Yinxing emerged the ultimate victor, reclaiming the competition spot that was rightfully his.

Witnessing all this, Nie Ying’s attitude toward him shifted—beyond disgust, there was now a trace of interest. What an intriguing man, he thought.

This entire arc stretched fifty full chapters.

Gu Yang read it laughing, rolling back and forth on his bed.

What a neurotic plot.

All this carnage, over a single competition spot.

It was like blasting a mosquito with a cannon.

When his laughter subsided, he had people track down the evidence described in the book. Once sorted, he bundled it all and sent it to the first wife’s parents.

But after so many days, there was no movement from their side.

Was it because, without Song Yinxing’s involvement, nothing would work?

In the original, this whole sequence had been flimsy to begin with. They turned in the evidence and—voilà—it worked. The first wife’s family was comfortable enough but had little influence. Their other daughter had only married into an ordinary family.

So it seemed all of this only functioned because of Song Yinxing’s protagonist halo.

That Song Yinxing actually had a protagonist’s halo amused Gu Yang.

After all, the main character of this melodramatic novel was so wretched that no one could disagree on his misery.

Since that route was closed, Gu Yang resigned himself to handling it personally.

Pulling out of his thoughts, from his perspective, Shen Mingjun’s face had gone paper white. Those always-arrogant eyes were now wide with terror, fixed on him as if he were something capable of utterly destroying him.

“What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?” Gu Yang asked, curious.

Shen Mingjun staggered back a step. His throat constricted so tightly he couldn’t form sound. “You…”

How do you know this?

It had been so many years.

That first year, when the plan succeeded, he hadn’t slept a single peaceful night, jerking awake at every phone ring, afraid it was the police.

By the second year, he grew a little calmer. But every time Shen Shan called him alone into the study, all he could think of was that incident.

Third year, fourth year…

At last he could bury it deep, sleep without dreaming of the details.

Five years had passed. Surely that woman’s soul had reincarnated by now. Couldn’t it just end here?

Panic-stricken, Shen Mingjun darted his eyes around the classroom. All those gazes—scornful, mocking, gloating.

Who had Gu Yang sent the evidence to?

He forced himself to think.

From his seat, Gu Yang looked up at him.

His gaze traced every expression across Shen Mingjun’s face—

like a blind man’s slow, fumbling touch.

It had been a long time since he’d directly felt such raw emotion from anyone.

So raw, it seemed to split the air with cracks.

“Yu Zhou.” Shen Mingjun’s face twisted, mumbling to himself.

Yes. Gu Yang must have sent it to Yu Zhou.

Gu Yang wanted to watch them tear each other apart. That was his revenge.

He couldn’t stay here another moment.

He had to rush home, to make sure that mother and son didn’t seize the initiative.

Shen Mingjun stumbled and lurched out the door.

“Why’d he just leave like that? Weird.” Gu Yang craned his neck to watch.

Only then did the teacher, who had been frozen at the lectern for ten minutes, cough casually and signal everyone to return to their seats.

These days, he too had followed the Shen family scandal avidly. Seeing the protagonists clash live, he couldn’t resist joining the silent audience.

Pity they hadn’t heard much—at one point, it had been like they all conspired to mime out a silent play.

The teacher began the lesson, compensating by pushing the end of class back ten minutes.

When class finally ended, Yu Bai bounded over, eager to chat with Gu Yang.

He was dying of curiosity about the juicy details of the Shen family drama—and about how Gu Yang knew so much.

But he had no good way to broach the subject. After all, they’d all been keeping Gu Yang in the dark.

“Hey, Gu Yang, someone’s looking for you outside.” Xie Wu, sitting by the window, called out.

Several heads turned.

It was Song Yinxing.

What was Song Yinxing doing here for Gu Yang?

They still vividly remembered their cobbled-together conclusion—that their classmate seemed to harbor… unhealthy thoughts toward the top student.

Meanwhile, He Min’an remembered another detail: that Gu Yang had privately sought Song Yinxing out. And Yu Bai remembered yet another: Gu Yang had visited his mother in the hospital.

Gu Yang went out.

“What’s up?”

Song Yinxing had been absent-minded all day. Even just now, waiting a short while, he’d drifted off again.

When he came to, he said, “I came to return the money I owe you.”

“You already scraped it together?” Gu Yang hadn’t expected that was what this was about. He looked Song Yinxing up and down, even reached out and felt along both sides of his waist.

Hmm. Kidneys seemed intact.

It wasn’t just an overactive imagination. In the original, there had been such a plotline—after failing the college entrance exam, with penalties owed to the school and his mother’s worsening illness, Song Yinxing had grown desperate enough to consider selling a kidney.

Only his mother’s attempted suicide by pulling out her oxygen tube had stopped him.

In these old-school abuse novels, the protagonist’s body was rarely left whole.

Song Yinxing stiffened at the sudden touch, reflexively catching Gu Yang’s hand.

“What are you doing?” Their eyes locked, and he asked stiffly.

“Worrying about you,” Gu Yang answered.

The disjointed conversation stalled immediately. But in that instant of touch—especially when he grasped back—Song Yinxing felt a strange calm.

The anxiety gnawing at him all day dissipated.

Gu Yang was right here.

That dream had been false.

“The school gave me thirty thousand as compensation for Ding Ziyu’s incident,” Song Yinxing explained once he steadied himself. “So I can pay you back.”

“There’s no need. You were the one who got beaten, not me.”

Song Yinxing choked. “I’m paying you back for the shoes.”

Why did Gu Yang make it sound like they’d run a con together, and were now divvying up the cut?

“That? I told you, you don’t need to.”

“No. I must repay it. I know you don’t need the money, but it matters to me. Give me your phone.” His tone hardened, brooking no refusal.

Gu Yang blinked at the force in his voice, then obediently pulled out his phone and opened the payment page.

Song Yinxing scanned it.

His battered old phone spun its gears, lagging through countless cycles before finally loading.

Not the payment page, but Gu Yang’s personal profile.

A black square for the avatar. Username: just a single period.

He realized Gu Yang had given him his personal QR instead.

“Wrong one.”

Gu Yang glanced down. “Oh, right.”

But he said casually, “Just add me as a friend and transfer it directly.”

That was true. Song Yinxing had only hesitated out of shyness. Now, he sent a friend request.

Gu Yang accepted, and he transferred the money.

Gu Yang didn’t take it immediately. His first action was to open Song Yinxing’s moments.

Song Yinxing stood there, watching him scroll.

He had never posted his own updates—only the occasional reposts of others’ posts.

He waited nervously, afraid Gu Yang would call him boring.

But Gu Yang said nothing. When he reached the end, he simply put the phone away.

The money still sat unclaimed. Song Yinxing wanted to remind him, but mentioning it again would feel nagging. He let it be, excused himself, and left.

“Man, what are they saying out there? I can’t hear a word.” In the classroom, Yu Bai plastered his face against the window.

“In broad daylight, pulling and holding hands. I told you something was going on! What could they possibly be talking about for so long? Let me hear too…”

He was just about to open the window when Gu Yang came back in.

Yu Bai hurriedly straightened, feigning nonchalance. “So, what did that Song guy want with you? You two were out there forever.”

“None of your business,” Gu Yang said offhandedly.

Yu Bai: “…”

Sometimes, Gu Yang really was like a recording device—cycling through the same few stock lines.

Meanwhile, outside, after descending the stairs, Song Yinxing paused a moment. At last, unable to resist, he pulled out his phone and opened Gu Yang’s profile, scrolling through his moments.