Ten years ago, I was teaching a graduating class in the third year of junior high, racking my brains to get promoted to senior teacher.

The head of the grade level privately approached me and said that while I met all the indicators, my experience was too shallow. There were too many people waiting in line for the limited spots available.

This is how it is in every profession. The ivory tower is no cleaner than anywhere else.

"But..." the head's tone changed, "if you manage to produce the city's top scorer in the high school entrance exam this year, that would be different."

The head was referring to Lin Chujing.

"You understand what I mean, right?"

I nodded.

He wasn't reassured and continued to guide me: "Don't waste time on students who are beyond hope."

Starting today until the high school entrance exam in exactly 100 days, my task was singular:

To educate Lin Chujing well.

How hard could that be?

Barring any surprises, Lin Chujing would undoubtedly become the city's top scorer; it was as certain as the sun rising in the east tomorrow.

However, an unexpected event occurred.

Lin Chujing's father committed suicide.

Upon hearing the news, my first reaction was confusion. Why would someone like Lin Chujing's father commit suicide?

As a Chinese language teacher, in my spare time, I often scout for books and borrow them from the city library, frequently encountering Lin Chujing's father, Lin Shan.

He was also a bookworm, saving lunch money to buy books during his school days, and his home was so filled with books that they blocked the windows completely.

Years ago, Lin Chujing's grandfather spent a lot of money to pull some strings, helping Lin Shan secure a job at the city library. Since then, Lin Shan had been like Sun Wukong in the Peach Garden, diving into a sea of books, barely coming up for air.

Living every day surrounded by spiritual sustenance, I couldn't understand why he would commit suicide.

When I arrived at the police station, Lin Chujing had already finished her questioning and was sitting alone in the hall.

"Have you eaten?"

"Uncle Qin, a policeman, got me some food."

"Do you need a ride back to school?"

"I'm waiting for my mother."

Lin Chujing's mother, Xia Rong, had gone in for questioning at the same time. While Lin Chujing had come out, she had been waiting for over two hours, and the large iron door remained tightly closed.

Lin Chujing's uniform was slightly oversized, and her frail body trembled lightly.

"Mr. Xu, I'm scared," she looked up at me.

"I understand, your father's sudden passing is hard for me to accept as well."

"I'm afraid that after losing my father, I'll lose my mother too..."

Lose her mother? Why would she think that?

Oh, it's probably because she just lost a loved one and is overly concerned about the one still alive.

I consoled Lin Chujing, telling her not to overthink things, and then I called my cousin Qin Chuan in the criminal police squad.

Soon, Qin Chuan came out from behind the large iron door. He was indeed the "Uncle Qin" Lin Chujing mentioned.

He advised me to take Lin Chujing back first, as Xia Rong wouldn’t be out for a while.

"What happened?"

"This case... it's a bit complicated."