Qian Bowen’s words hit like a thunderclap.
Everyone stared at him, dumbfounded.
A renowned professor, a scholar of vast learning, a murderer—how could this not shock them?
“Big Brother, what happened?” Qian Weidong asked, eyes red. Even now, he couldn’t accept it was Qian Bowen.
Qian Bowen began, “Father’s traditional views were unshakable. After Chunmei’s miscarriage, he hinted repeatedly that he wanted us to have another son.”
“But Chunmei’s body couldn’t handle another pregnancy—it’d endanger her life.”
“Father kept pressuring me, so much I dreaded going home. That’s when a woman appeared.”
“She was my student.”
“She cared for me, understood me, admired me, knew my struggles, and offered to bear me a son, no strings attached.”
“Young, beautiful, gentle—honestly, I was tempted.”
“But then I thought: born into this family, a professor—how could I sleep with my student and still call myself a teacher?”
“How could I face Chunmei?”
“My daughters, my father?”
“The Qian family’s century-old scholarly legacy?”
“So, I refused.”
Cao Chunmei exploded, “Refused, my ass! Don’t think I don’t know—you hooked up with her, and she gave you a son!”
Qian Bowen ignored her, continuing, “I kept my distance, but she was my student—weekly meetings were unavoidable.”
“About four years ago, her class graduated. They held a farewell banquet.”
“I drank too much. When I woke, she was beside me. That’s how it started.”
“She got pregnant fast. I didn’t want it, but a hospital check showed it was a boy—I wavered.”
“Ten months later, the child was born. We both adored him.”
“Things were fine until two months ago.”
“She suddenly demanded marriage and a city apartment. I said no.”
“After that, she turned cold—sometimes a week without contact. Video calls, phone calls, WeChat—all ignored.”
“One time, I went to her rental. Inside, I found her in bed with a stranger, doing *that*, with the kid right there watching.”
Qian Bowen’s forehead veins bulged, fists clenched, a furious lion.
“Ha!” Cao Chunmei cackled. “Qian Bowen, green-hatted! You deserve it, haha!”
“Shut up!” he roared.
“Make me!” she taunted. “She cuckolded you, so you killed the guy in a rage?”
Qian Bowen admitted, “Yes, I killed him!”
A collective gasp.
A famed professor, ruining his future over a woman—such a pity.
“I didn’t mean to,” he said. “I was just so angry. We argued, and that wretch slipped, revealing a secret.”
“The child she bore wasn’t mine.”
“I took the kid’s hair for a paternity test. Sure enough—not mine.”
“Seeing that report, I was livid—like a clown, played by a slut.”
Cao Chunmei sneered, “Reaping what you sowed!”
“That night,” Qian Bowen went on, “under cover of darkness, I snuck into her rental, turned on the gas, and left.”
The room froze.
He’d killed more than one?
“Next day,” he confirmed, “news reported three dead from gas poisoning.”
Governor Han erupted, “Qian Bowen, a professor doing something so depraved! Even if the child wasn’t yours, he was so young—killed by you! Are you even human? You’ll be the death of your teacher!”
Qian Bowen gave a bleak smile. “I knew my sin was monstrous. I was terrified, living in constant dread.”
“Back home, Father noticed something off, thought it was stress. We drank, and I got drunk—spilled everything.”
“He was furious, slapped me hard, demanded I turn myself in.”
“I begged, but he wouldn’t budge—gave me a month.”
“If I didn’t confess, he’d call the police himself.”
“I didn’t want jail. I’m a professor—confessing would ruin me, maybe get me the death penalty. I didn’t want to die!”
“Lost, I met a Taoist who taught me the Art of Suppression. It sparked an idea.”
“Around then, I learned Chunmei and Rong’er were gambling online, deep in debt, borrowing from loan sharks—desperate for cash.”
“So, I teamed up with the Taoist, crafting a plan to kill by proxy.”
“I found a history book mentioning the Art of Suppression, left it for Chunmei to see.”
“Then arranged for the Taoist to ‘bump into’ her on the street, teaching her the method.”
“Chunmei was cautious—didn’t follow up with him directly. She sent Rong’er to get two wooden dolls from him.”
“They followed my script, cursing Father with the art, even hiding the dolls where the Taoist instructed.”
Cao Chunmei and Qian Rong went cold.
They’d thought it was their secret—turns out, Qian Bowen had orchestrated it all.
“After all our years as husband and wife, you framed me? You’re not human!” Cao Chunmei raged.
Qian Rong seethed, “Dad, I’m your daughter, and you set me up? I’ll never forgive you!”
Then Qian Weidong stepped forward.
