Chapter Thirty: The Stone Worth Eighty Million

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For students, university is undoubtedly a paradise—a place that is, in one's entire life, the happiest and most meaningful. Nowadays, university majors are so finely divided that every young person can choose a subject they love, laying the groundwork for a future career in a field they enjoy.

Time at university is abundant, giving those who love to study and have their own ambitions the freedom to devote themselves to learning. Yet, university is also a haven for romance and, for some, the root of their downfall. For those with weak self-control, it’s easy to drown in games, love affairs, and indulgence, wasting four precious years.

I’m lucky—among the students I teach in this discipline, there are few who are lackluster.

The ones who take up psychology all have their own goals.

Psychology is a vast field, permeating every level of society: criminal psychology, human resources, clinical psychology, and so on. Those who choose to study psychology are generally patient individuals.

And patient individuals tend to be more mature, and mature people consider things from a broader perspective. Although I am their lecturer, even I noticed how our group’s arrival startled them.

We parked by a student dormitory, all seven of us stepping out. What vexed me was that the four bodyguards behind us were dressed so impeccably that anyone could see at a glance they were not to be trifled with. The dormitory was full of students, and the moment our group appeared, those outside began to point and whisper.

Gao Jian, seeing my concern, smiled and said, “We’ll wait in the car for Mr. Changfeng. If you need any help, just call for us and we’ll be right there.”

I nodded, and took Ma Junfeng and Wang Tingting with me to Tang Xin’s dormitory.

As we entered, the strong scent of laundry detergent filled the air. A student sat on his bunk washing a shirt.

Seeing us suddenly enter, the student was startled—whether out of politeness or surprise, he stood up for a moment, then, recognizing me, breathed a sigh of relief and greeted me politely: “Hello, Professor.”

Among these students, aside from Tang Xin, I did not have a deep impression of the others. With so many students attending my lectures and the large, fluid classes, it’s normal that I don’t know most of them.

It’s to be expected. Nowadays, university lectures often have hundreds of attendees, and professors don’t take roll. Their responsibility is to teach well, not to manage the students as in elementary or high school.

The student, seeing my scrutiny, courteously introduced himself: “Professor, my name is Tan Da. Your lectures are outstanding, especially the recent one on overcoming psychological fear—it was vivid and engaging.”

At this, I remembered him. He always sat in the front three rows, once even getting into a dispute with a classmate over seats, which left an impression on me.

I was gratified to have my teaching recognized—a teacher’s greatest reward. Still, he seemed puzzled by our sudden visit, glancing several times at Wang Tingting and Ma Junfeng, perhaps thinking they were faculty from another department, but their attire didn’t match that of professors. So he looked again.

He was gentle and courteous, inviting us to sit and pouring us water.

The dorm was not large, just enough for four bunk beds. It had a bathroom and a sink for washing dishes—a standard dormitory layout in almost all boarding schools in the country.

“How are your studies? Any difficulties?” As a teacher, I felt responsible to ask, though my mind was preoccupied with Tang Xin’s situation. Still, things needed to proceed step by step.

He smiled easily: “No problem with the coursework. We have few classes and plenty of time to review. Professor, you seem in a hurry—do you need any help?”

“I just wanted to check on how you’re living. Seeing you all so young reminds me of my own student days—how quickly time flies.”

Looking around, I felt a touch of nostalgia. A boys’ dorm is always a bit messy—shirts unwashed, quilts unfolded, computers scattered about, but there was a certain warmth to it.

My words made the student laugh heartily: “You’re still young yourself, Professor, just a few years older than us. Plus, with a beauty beside you, you’d better not keep calling yourself old, or else…”

Hearing herself called a beauty, Wang Tingting’s eyes sparkled with delight, as if she’d found a kindred spirit, but she retorted sharply, “He just takes good care of himself—don’t think he’s as young as you imagine, hmph.”

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She snorted, clearly pleased to have scored a point at my expense, and covered her mouth to hide a smile at her own cleverness. Even Ma Junfeng, seeing me teased, chuckled—clearly, the two of them were on the same side. Poor me.

But I thought to myself, “A wise man does not quarrel with women,” and let her teasing go. With the atmosphere lightened, I turned the conversation to the real matter.

Feigning a cough, I asked, “Tan, you share a room with Tang Xin. How is your relationship with him?”

At this, Tan Da suddenly stood up in shock, mouth agape. I hadn’t expected such a strong reaction. After a moment, he glanced around, lowered his voice, and asked, “Professor, has something happened to Tang Xin?”

“No, no!” I patted his shoulder to calm him and said, “Tang Xin is with me now, just running a fever and resting for a couple of days. Why do you ask?”

Tan Da looked bewildered, clearly not believing me. He shook his head, sat back down, and muttered, “Something must have happened to Tang Xin, or he wouldn’t be like this. No wonder I haven’t seen him these past days.”

Ma Junfeng shot me a look, suggesting Tan Da must know something significant. He patted Tan Da’s shoulder and said, “Tan, if there’s anything you know, please tell us. If you don’t trust us, surely you trust your professor?”

Tan Da glanced uncertainly at Ma Junfeng, then at me. Ma Junfeng said, “Don’t worry, Tan. We’re police officers. We hope you can cooperate.”

“Police?” Tan Da exclaimed, immediately wary. “Some police officers came this afternoon asking about Tang Xin, and just half an hour ago, two more came claiming to be police, questioning people in our dorm. Aren’t you all together?”

Hearing this, Wang Tingting’s expression changed, and she stood up. The police officers this afternoon were indeed sent by her, but who were the two half an hour ago? By whose orders had they come?

She exchanged glances with me and with Ma Junfeng. Ma Junfeng quickly said, “Those are our colleagues, but they may not have all the details. We’re here to confirm a few things. Why don’t you talk to your professor while we step outside?” With that, he and Wang Tingting left the dorm.

Outside, Wang Tingting called her second uncle. Earlier, she’d borrowed people from him to check Tang Xin’s records. Although he doted on her, he would never abuse his authority, but since I needed help, he had obliged. In his eyes, I was an Interpol officer—not someone to take lightly.

Wang Tingting initially thought her uncle might have sent another team out of curiosity, but on the phone, she learned that after the initial dispatch, there had been no further orders. After all, if Interpol asked him to investigate something, and he secretly sent people to check again, it would not only arouse my suspicion but might also attract unwanted attention. If Interpol found out, he would risk his career.

Learning there was no such order, Wang Tingting frowned and said to Ma Junfeng, “Something’s off. The two who came half an hour ago were imposters. They’re probably still on campus. Let’s look for them.”

Ma Junfeng agreed, then sent the four bodyguards in the car to search in the four cardinal directions, instructing them to call if anything came up.

Who were these fake police officers investigating Tang Xin? Why were they so interested in an ordinary student? What about Tang Xin drew such attention? For whom had his soul been shattered?

These mysteries swirled in my mind, but there was no clue to their root.

With the others gone, only Tan Da and I remained.

Tan Da looked pale, deeply worried.

“Are you very close with Tang Xin?” I softened my tone to put him at ease. He stared at me, and I met his gaze openly. We simply looked at each other for a while. He said nothing.

Perhaps he was wary of me, which was understandable—so many people had come asking about Tang Xin in one day; anyone would be suspicious.

“Professor, tell me the truth—has something happened to Tang Xin?” Tan Da asked, enunciating each word.

I hesitated, unsure how to answer, and finally said, “To be honest, Tang Xin is in trouble.” Hearing this, Tan Da seemed conflicted, but said nothing. I continued, “As his teacher, I can’t stand by and do nothing, so I’ve asked my police friends to help. I’m sure you also hope Tang Xin is safe. The only way to help is by learning more about him.” I had to reason with him—he hesitated because he didn’t know whether to trust me or believe in my ability to help.

My words had some effect, but not much. Observing him, I sensed that I had gained a bit of his trust, but only a little.

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I went on, “I remember whenever I lecture, you, Tang Xin, Helen, Maggie, and a few others are always the most attentive. Your thirst for knowledge is what gives teachers like me motivation to teach.” He swallowed; I knew I was reaching him, so I pressed on. “I remember once, when Helen was very ill with a cold, I didn’t see her before class and specifically asked how she was doing. That was the hardest class I’ve ever taught—it felt like a year had passed in one session. My heart wasn’t in it, worrying about her. I knew she wanted to attend, but couldn’t. Later, I even visited Helen and tutored her privately. I hope I never have to see any of you missing from my class again.”

Tan Da listened, a trace of sadness in his voice. “I know, Professor. Later, Tang Xin even copied his notes for Helen—right after you left. He said he’d never met a teacher who cared so much about our learning.”

I hadn’t known Tang Xin had given his notes to Helen, but hearing this, I could tell Tan Da’s trust in me had deepened.

I nodded sincerely. “Tang Xin is an excellent student, and an even better friend. Now that he’s in trouble, I just hope to get more information about him so I can help. I hope you’ll help him, too.”

Tan Da bowed his head in thought and finally muttered, “It’s too strange, too frightening. I’m afraid this is beyond us.”

I realized what was holding him back, and reassured him, “There is no problem that can’t be solved. As the saying goes: where there is a cause, there will be an effect; and with every effect, there is a cause. Human effort is everything—and just because we can’t solve it doesn’t mean no one can.”

With a resigned sigh, Tan Da seemed to steel himself. “Alright, Professor, I just hope that if you and your friends can’t solve this, you won’t take unnecessary risks.”

I nodded eagerly to show my agreement.

He fell into thought, murmuring to himself, “Where do I start? How should I explain?” It was clear he knew a lot about Tang Xin, and that my visit here was a stroke of luck.

“Start with anything unusual about Tang Xin these past few days,” I prompted, hoping to get to the root of the matter.

Tan Da licked his lips and recalled, “Three days ago—no, four—Tang Xin and I went shopping. He’s always been fascinated by antiques, though he knows little about them, so usually he just admires the items in the shops. But that day, something very strange happened at one of the antique stores.”

“Something very strange?” I asked, surprised. Both Tang Xin and Tan Da study psychology—a field with such a wide scope that for something to truly strike them as odd, it must be very unusual indeed.

Tan Da nodded repeatedly. “Very strange indeed!” As he spoke, his expression became distant, as if reliving the moment. “The antique shop was tiny, but sold nothing but very expensive, peculiar items—like a brush used by Qianlong, socks worn by Kangxi, even the Empress Dowager Cixi’s undergarments. We were browsing when we came across a particularly odd stone, priced higher than diamonds—an astronomical sum.”

A stone sold at a sky-high price isn’t unheard of. Years ago, a Burmese stone containing eight carats of diamond sold for sixty million. But that was unique in the world. Still, the price Tan Da mentioned shocked even me. This stone was selling for eighty million yuan.

Tan Da smiled wryly. “Eighty million for a stone—if that’s not hype, the seller must be mad. Tang Xin and I were curious and asked about it. The owner said a friend had entrusted him to sell it, but he had no idea why the price was so high.”

“Oh? Was there anything special about the stone?” His words piqued my interest in this astronomical stone.

Tan Da continued, “The strangest thing was, such a valuable stone shouldn’t have been in a small shop like that. It should have been heavily guarded. So Tang Xin and I thought it was all for show and paid it no further mind, continuing to browse. But after a while, two black Mercedes stopped outside. A young Western woman got out, spoke briefly with the owner, and said she wanted to buy the stone—without haggling, she wrote a check and took it away.”

“What!” I exclaimed. Someone really bought a stone for eighty million? Incredible.

Tan Da took a deep breath and went on. “We couldn’t believe it, nor could the owner. But after the woman wrote the check, the owner called the bank to verify it, and only then did he believe it was real. Once they left, the owner closed the shop and sent us on our way.”

I thought to myself: the owner had been entrusted to sell the stone, and with such a large sum involved, it would be strange not to close up shop immediately for safety.

If both Tang Xin and Tan Da left, then how did Tang Xin end up in trouble?