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Chapter 98: Reap What You Sow
Yue Zhishi received a message from a professor from his school office, asking him to pay them a visit, as he waited for the police to arrive.
Song Yu headed over with him, but Yue Zhishi had him wait outside. But the door wasn’t closed, and so Song Yu could hear the conversation inside while he leaned against the wall. A professor with a relatively high rank was criticising Yue Zhishi for doing something that affected the school’s reputation.
“I’m the victim, professor. It’s not the school’s reputation that’s been affected. It’s my own personal reputation that’s been affected.”
When he heard Yue Zhishi say something like that to a professor, Song Yu felt Yue Zhishi truly had grown up.
The professor in the school office clearly realised the two of them couldn’t smoothly communicate at all, so he asked Yue Zhishi to return. They would contact Yue Zhishi again after the school held a meeting and figured out a way to handle the matter.
“There’s no need, professor. I’ve already called the police.”
Yue Zhishi said very naturally, “Illegal behaviours need to be punished by legal action. That’s what I’ve learned here.”
When the two police officers arrived, Yue Zhishi straightforwardly took out the evidence he’d preserved and gave it to them; he also gave them a detailed account of what’d happened. When he saw the stack of A4 pieces of paper, one of the police officers took an extra look at Yue Zhishi and Song Yu, who was standing next to Yue Zhishi — the officer seemed to be confirming something.
But Yue Zhishi didn’t care; he merely repeated to them the relevant regulations when it came to personal privacy, as well as the penalties listed in the public safety management act.
“Worthy of being a law student,” the police officer laughed, and they took Yue Zhishi to check the security cameras — except the surveillance office wasn’t quite willing to work with them, leaving them extremely resigned. A professor appeared from the school office after a while had passed, and he told the officers that the school dean wanted to talk with them.
The professor even said to Yue Zhishi, his words a warning, “Don’t make any statements on social media the next few days, the school doesn’t want to make this a big deal.”
“I’m allowed to post whatever I want.” Yue Zhishi wasn’t willing to accept being treated like that, the attitude and force of a law student behind his words. “If I’m not treated fairly by the school, then I’ll resort to other means.”
He had just stubbornly refuted with a few phrases, but the professor almost attacked him — Song Yu caught his arm and threw it aside.
“Professor, you should take note of your occupation,” Song Yu coldly said.
Just as everyone was caught in a deadlock, another very familiar voice sounded in the corridor. Yue Zhishi turned his head around; it was the old professor in charge of the school’s most difficult course who had praised Yue Zhishi in class before. He was also the school’s vice dean.
Yue Zhishi became a bit panicked, very worried that he was the rumoured school dean. In such unclear circumstances, he took the initiative to step forward and explain the situation to the old professor.
The professor saw how hurried he was, and so he patiently listened as Yue Zhishi described what had happened that morning.
“The school’s decision to not make a fuss about this means they’ll suppress all the news, and that means the person who infringed my privacy definitely won’t be punished. I won’t accept that.” Yue Zhishi stood proudly and spoke with dignity. “And to me, the best way to maintain a school and its reputation isn’t to wipe away problems and discourse — the best way is to honestly and openly handle the problem and let everyone see it. Everyone should be able to see that in this school, people who commit wrongs will be given their due punishment. People won’t have to wait for the problem to become a public matter before the school reluctantly decides to handle it.”
The old professor waited for him to finish before he spoke. There was even some amusement on his perpetually stern face.
“You usually look pretty gentle, always laughing and smiling every day. I’ve even said before that you’re more suited to becoming a legal advisor instead of a litigator, but I didn’t expect you to be such a courageous child.”
“It’s fine. The things you’ve said, Nan Jia has already talked to me about them earlier.”
Senior Nan Jia

He patted Yue Zhishi’s shoulder and shifted his gaze. “Police officers, come with me.”
He brought the two officers into the surveillance office. “Xiao Chen, bring up the camera in front of the school office.”
The staff member on duty called Xiao Chen felt slightly awkward. “Vice-Dean Lin
 This
”
“Did you not understand me?” The professor said, “You are all teachers of law. You do know that it’s a citizen’s legal duty to cooperate with investigations, right?”
Xiao Chen and the professor that had come over from the school office looked at each other; their faces turned green, turned white.
“Today, that person can publicly display another student’s private matters on the school noticeboard right under your eyes. What’s he going to post tomorrow? Gossip and rumours about other people having affairs in the school?” The professor prompted them again. “Bring up the camera now. Hurry up.”
Yue Zhishi finally relaxed after seeing the vice dean’s attitude. He stood next to Song Yu, waiting somewhat anxiously for what would appear on the camera.
But he had a feeling — if it really was Wang Zhi behind this, he definitely wouldn’t be stupid enough to post the papers up himself.
And as he expected, they found a recording from midnight last night before the school doors were locked. When they magnified the person in the recording, it didn’t turn out to be Wang Zhi; it was a middle-aged man who looked rather destitute.
“Do you guys know this person?” one of the police officer asked Song Yu and Yue Zhishi, pointing at the man on the screen.
“No.” Yue Zhishi once again mentioned the person he himself suspected. “He might’ve told this man to do it.”
“We’ll investigate this guy first.”
The old professor nodded. “He doesn’t look like someone in our school. Pull up the camera at the school doors for the officers as well.”
Song Yu, who had been silent the entire time, suddenly opened his mouth. “I’d like to have a look at another area’s camera.” He pointed at the A4 pieces of paper on the table. “This photo’s very clear. From the angle, the person who took the photo should’ve been in the classroom building behind the cypress grove. And since it isn’t an overhead shot, he would’ve been on the ground floor. That classroom building isn’t locked at night, so he might’ve even been in a classroom. That photo would’ve been taken on the 25th, between midnight and 1am. If we can find a camera recording, we should be able to check who was the person taking the photo.”
The police officer nodded and said, “Good thinking.”
Xiao Chen found surveillance recordings of that classroom building, looking through all the recordings of both inside and outside classrooms that were taken after midnight. They saw Song Yu and Yue Zhishi in the recordings first.
“On a date?” The old professor pushed up his glasses, asking Yue Zhishi.
Yue Zhishi gave him a somewhat bashful smile. “Something like that.”
Very quickly, after they appeared, a tall person appeared by himself. He was wearing a cap, and they were able to see the blurry side of his face.
“Is this who you guys were talking about?”
Song Yu nodded. “Yes. Wang Zhi injured his leg a while back, so the way he walks is different from everyone else.”
He also appeared in the cameras for the classroom building’s corridors. After Song Yu and Yue Zhishi went near the cypress trees, he entered a classroom behind the trees. The cameras didn’t have a recording of him afterwards.
“There aren’t cameras in the classroom,” Xiao Chen said to the police officers, turning around.
The officers nodded and took Yue Zhishi and Song Yu to the police station to interview them and take notes. As they went through the usual procedures, they saw Wang Zhi come in, cursing; police officers forced him to sit down and look at his personal enemies. He calmed down after seeing them, though — and he asked, looking at the two of them, “How do you two have the face to call the police?”
Yue Zhishi wasn’t provoked by him in the least. He simply asked, “How do you have the face to ask me that?”
He then said, “I hear you didn’t pass the bar exam. You’re about to graduate — senior, where do you plan on working?”
Wang Zhi furiously smacked the table and stood up, only to be pushed back down by the police.
After they finished their interviews, Yue Zhishi and Song Yu left the station normally and waited for news. Yue Zhishi received a message from Shen Mi later that night, saying Wang Zhi was currently acting particularly proudly and had deliberately visited the basketball team.
Yue Zhishi was so annoyed he ended up eating an extra half a bowl of rice.
Fortunately, the police worked quickly; they notified Yue Zhishi the next afternoon that they’d found the person who’d stuck up the pieces of A4 paper. He was an unemployed loafer near the university, but he didn’t admit that someone had instructed him to post up the photos. He even had his own reason for doing so, saying he only did it because he hated homosexuality.
Song Yu had actually predicted this would happen long ago.
“The penalty for spreading other people’s private matters is very low, right?”
Yue Zhishi nodded. “They’re penalised only a few hundred RMB and would be detained a few days.”
“So Wang Zhi must’ve paid him pretty well for him to be willing to do this. And plus the punishment’s very light.” Song Yu thought for a bit. “Since it’s something money can fix, then it’s not too bad.”
And then, Song Yu glanced at Yue Zhishi again. “It’s not enough to punish someone like Wang Zhi with something so small. Since he wants to use public opinion to oppress us, then we’ll have to repay him the same way.”
Yue Zhishi rapidly understood Song Yu’s meaning.
But comparatively, he didn’t quite understand public opinion — professional matters should be left to the professionals.
“You want me to help you write an article?”
It was the first time Xu Lin wasn’t dressed fashionably, as he stood in front of the journalism school’s male dormitory building. He was dressed in a very cute and fluffy set of home clothes, his arms wrapped around himself due to the cold.
“I have something similar to what you’re wearing.” Yue Zhishi’s focus deviated once again, but he quickly pulled himself back. “Yes, about the recent photos. You don’t want to exploit such a hot issue? You’re a big official account, and you’re an outstanding journalism student as well.”
Yue Zhishi then added, “You’re the only good friend I have who’s also a journalism student.”
The words ‘good friend’ seem to have prodded something in Xu Lin. His face immediately stiffened, and he raised his chin, saying, “Fine, fine. Mixed Sweetheart, since you’re so pitiful with no one else to help you, I’ll help you.”
There were actually a lot of people helping him. Yue Zhishi pursed his lips and smiled. “Thanks.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve been meaning to do something about it. I was so angry after I heard.” Xu Lin had a cutely fierce look on his face. “Even if you didn’t come looking for me, I still would’ve cursed out that homophobic guy. Send me everything you have later — I want to write an article with a massively high click-through rate and get everyone in Wuhan U to repost it.”
Xu Lin was someone as good as his word. Compared to designing clothes, he was even more confident when doing what he was studying.
Two days after the photos appeared, an official account posted an article titled [A new way to be a pick up artist in university: stalking, secret photo-taking, condemning posters — in any case, homosexual people are all damned!], and students in the university furiously reposted and forwarded it. Xu Lin not only wrote about the unauthorised photos, he even found many underclassmen Wang Zhi had bullied and included their experiences of being forced to drink until they couldn’t find their way back to their dorms. He also added how Wang Zhi had taken the lead in bullying others in the basketball team, his writing bitingly humorous and extremely able to stimulate a reader’s emotions.
And in the article, he also explained Yue Zhishi and Song Yu’s relationship very clearly.
[They aren’t brothers. They have no familial relationship — they’re only two boys who have grown up with each other. Calling them ‘immoral brothers’ was merely a way to frame them. Within their relationship, they’re no different from other young people. Can their love be trampled on and defiled just because they’re the same gender? To quote the law school in the arts festival’s clothing competition: we are so different, but we are all standing in the rain.
And after the rain, the world needs rainbows.]
When he saw his classmates reposting and supporting the article, Yue Zhishi sent Xu Lin a grateful WeChat.
[Xu Lin: It’s not like I tried all that hard, no need to worry about it.]
Yue Zhishi felt he was honestly being tsundere, but he wasn’t annoying at all; he sent Xu Lin many many adorable stickers. He then abruptly remembered something and sent Xu Lin a message.
[Mixed Sweetheart: Oh right, are you really pursuing Shen Mi?]
Xu Lin replied to that message instantly.
[Xu Lin: Who said I was pursuing him!!!]
Eh

Yue Zhishi really couldn’t understand what they were doing.
Most people were originally sitting by and simply watching after the photos had been exposed — Song Yu and Yue Zhishi were both excellent students with nothing to fault, so once the article exploded all over Moments, the wind immediately changed direction. So many people, when reposting, wrote [love is love] and included a rainbow emoji; after a few days, the matter essentially turned into a collective statement.
In the end, both the school and the university released an announcement: they expressed they would strictly investigate the violation of student privacy.
The night the announcement was released, Song Yu picked Yue Zhishi up from his self-study and told him, “That loafer finally admitted it.”
“Really?” Yue Zhishi hadn’t thought that was possible. “How did that happen?”
“Through the power of money,” Song Yu said.
The situation had bubbled over to a point Wang Zhi had not expected. Countless amounts of Wuhan U students he’d never met before, as well as students from surrounding universities, swarmed to all the social media platforms he could be found on and denounced his behaviour — to the point he couldn’t even use his phone number normally anymore.
Even though there was no lack of anti-homosexuality and homophobic voices, they could almost be completely ignored compared to the group of people protesting against Wang Zhi.
And Yue Zhishi and Song Yu didn’t care what they were saying.
The school office called the three of them in together and requested Wang Zhi to apologise to Yue Zhishi and Song Yu. But Song Yu didn’t accept it.
“I want him to apologise on a public platform. And he’s not allowed to delete the apology.”
“You!” Wang Zhi remained defiant. “I refuse to apologise publicly.”
Song Yu gave him a kind smile. “That’s fine, I’ve already contacted a lawyer to start legal proceedings.”
Wang Zhi laughed, very unimpressed. “Did you think I’d be scared? If you think this is worth a lawsuit, then go ahead — since it won’t be wasting my time.”
“I have money, and I also have the time. I’m not bringing a lawsuit against you just for your tiny amount of compensation.” Song Yu stared coldly at him. “I want you to seek employment with a lawsuit on your shoulders. I want you to experience how it feels to have everyone reject you.”
The entire matter had started so spectacularly, but it ended much more calmly — at least, to Song Yu and Yue Zhishi. Or perhaps they were already used to living with their relationship in the open; perhaps they were used to occasionally being gawked at while eating in the cafeteria, or having an unclear photo of them being taken when going to the library together before it was sent away to some unknown place.
As for Yue Zhishi, the biggest issue he had after coming out wasn’t other people looking at them. But rather, Song Yu’s pursuers.
“Why are there still people harassing you?” Yue Zhishi grabbed Song Yu’s phone and unlocked it, crosslegged on the floor. There was a massive amount of friend requests on his WeChat, and he randomly opened one, indignantly reading one out loud. “Gege, look at me! I’ve never seen a 1 as handsome as you before in real life, please look at me!”
He tapped open another one, and it was even more explicit. “I’m really good in bed gege, I can

 What is this.” Yue Zhishi threw the phone back to Song Yu in anger. “We shouldn’t have come out.”
Song Yu also plastered a rather troubled look on his face, but he was inwardly hoping for Yue Zhishi to read every single explicit message out to him.
Of course, he didn’t say that.
Yue Zhishi turned around and fiddled with his own phone. Song Yu patted him a good few times from behind, but he didn’t pay any attention to him.
Song Yu finally couldn’t take it anymore; he picked up Yue Zhishi completely, still in his crosslegged position, and placed him onto the sofa. “The ground’s cold.”
“I just finished posting.” Yue Zhishi threw his phone away, hooking his arms around Song Yu’s neck.
Finished posting what. Song Yu quizzically took his phone and looked at the Moments interface still on his screen.
[Cheese1010: I already have a boyfriend. I wasn’t pursued, I was the one who confessed (that’s right don’t mess with me). Please don’t say ‘I can’ to him, no one else except me is allowed.]
He included a photo of Song Yu’s peacefully sleeping face. He even photoshopped a watermark onto Song Yu’s face: belongs to Yue Zhishi.
“When’d you take this?” Song Yu asked.
“During a random afternoon nap,” Yue Zhishi honestly replied, but his face still looked a bit annoyed.
He really was number one at protecting his own food. Song Yu found him adorable, and lowered his head to kiss his soft and moisturised lips.
“A photo like that is going to make people think it was taken after sex.”
“Song Yu!”