When the Tree Falls, the Monkeys Scatter (Thanks to Catching No Moon for the master certification)

The monstrous waves sweeping across the internet shattered Sun Tingting's newly rebuilt, painfully fragile psychological defenses almost in an instant.

Not long after posting her video statement claiming the recording was "AI-generated," she was forcing herself to stay calm as she refreshed the comments, hoping the paid commenters Zhang Qian had arranged could quickly take control of the discussion and turn the tide.

But what she got was no rescue force. It was the anonymous account's "trio" of audio bombs, even more devastating than before!

The moment she saw the titles of the three recordings, Sun Tingting's heart felt as though an invisible hand had clenched it so hard it nearly stopped beating. Her fingers trembled as she pressed play. Zhang Qian's familiar voice and her own laid bare their dirty deals, sinister schemes, and final mutual threats for all to hear, as clearly and irrefutably as possible.

The third recording in particular, with her own threats against Zhang Qian, sounded so grating now, like a series of resounding slaps across her own face.

"It's over... It's all over..."

She slumped in her chair, her mind blank, as if all the strength had been drained from her body. The handful of paid comments still putting up a desperate fight were instantly swallowed by the surging tide of anger. A new, fiercer wave of insults, mockery, and doxxing swept toward her like a tsunami. Her phone vibrated wildly as calls from countless unfamiliar numbers and texts full of vicious curses flooded her inbox.

Like a drowning person, she instinctively reached for one last straw. She snatched up her phone and frantically called Zhang Qian.

"Sorry, the number you have dialed is busy. Please try again later..."

Once, twice, ten times... The same cold automated message every time.

Refusing to give up, she grabbed the phone Wang Meng had left beside her and called again from that number.

The result was the same-the line was busy.

This was no coincidence. Zhang Qian had blocked every way she had of contacting her, or Zhang Qian's own phone had been flooded with calls, cutting her off completely from the outside world-especially from Sun Tingting, this "harbinger of misfortune."

Sun Tingting finally understood completely. Zhang Qian could barely save herself and had cast her aside without hesitation, severing all ties. Their supposed promise to "weather the storm in the same boat" had been nothing but empty words she had used in desperation to threaten Zhang Qian, unable to withstand a single blow from the real storm.

A bone-deep chill shot from the soles of her feet to the top of her head. She sprang from her chair and looked around the familiar dorm room in terror. The desk, the beds, the wardrobe... Every corner now looked utterly suspicious to her.

A bug... That anonymous audio... How had the other person recorded it?

There was only one explanation-someone had planted listening devices in this room, or somewhere else she often went, long ago!

The thought made her shudder. Not only could the other person obtain recordings of her private meetings with Zhang Qian, they even knew every detail of her most intimate, unguarded conversations in the dorm! What terrifying surveillance capabilities! She felt like a mouse stripped naked and thrown into a glass box, her every move exposed to an unknown gaze.

Should she look for it?

She dismissed the thought at once.

First, whoever had planted it without anyone noticing had to be highly skilled. She was just a student; there was no way she could find it.

Second, even if she got lucky and found it, what then? At most, it would only prove the recording was real, confirming her own disgraceful conduct. It would do her no good and might even bring fiercer retaliation from the other person.

Fear overwhelmed everything else. Her only thought now was to flee! Leave this place, this transparent cage, immediately!

She rushed to the wardrobe, pulled out a few clothes she often wore and some personal belongings with fumbling hands, and stuffed them haphazardly into a backpack. Her ID card, bank card, some cash... She was so frantic that she knocked over the cup on the desk without stopping to clean it up. At that moment, the slightest footstep outside the dorm room made her heart pound, as though the police or those angry netizens might burst in the next second.

She zipped up the backpack, took a deep breath, and forced herself to calm down a little. She put on a mask and a hat, covering her face completely, then carefully opened the dorm room door like a thief, slipped out, and hurried toward the stairs with her head down. She didn't dare take the elevator, afraid she might run into someone she knew. She jogged all the way out of the dorm building, hailed a taxi, and gave the driver her home address. Then she curled up in the back seat, her heart pounding wildly, as if only this could give her a meager sense of safety for the time being.

Meanwhile, at Zhang Qian's home in the municipal public security bureau's family compound.

Things were a hundred times worse than Sun Tingting had imagined.

Zhang Qian sat slumped on the cold floor with her back against the sofa, her hair disheveled and her makeup long since smeared by tears and sweat. The shrewd, capable air she once had was gone, leaving only misery and despair.

Her phone lay on the carpet a few steps away, its screen flashing constantly with countless missed calls and text notifications. Some were from her superiors, some from colleagues, and some from unfamiliar numbers. It rang without pause, like a death-claiming curse, but she no longer had the strength or the courage to answer.

The moment the audio was exposed, she had indeed considered using every connection she had to suppress it, but public opinion had erupted too quickly and fiercely, entirely beyond her control. Her last shred of hope had rested on her maternal uncle, who held a leadership position at the municipal bureau.

She had called him, almost in tears.

On the other end, her uncle's voice had been unusually grave, with even a hint of barely concealed anger at her failure to do better. "Xiao Qian! You... What am I supposed to say to you?! How could you leave yourself no room to maneuver? Now the whole city's in an uproar, and things have gotten so big. How am I supposed to smooth this over for you?!"

"Uncle! I know I was wrong! What do I do now? Am I going to... go to prison?" Zhang Qian's voice was tearful and frightened.

"Prison? It won't come to that!" Her uncle sighed, his tone carrying a composure and cruelty peculiar to officialdom. "A private recording like this has procedural flaws under the law. It would be difficult to use it as direct evidence to convict you. But..."

That "but" made Zhang Qian's heart leap into her throat again.

"But the repercussions of this are far too serious! Openly colluding with a party involved in a case, interfering in judicial proceedings, and even dragging the court into it... These are serious disciplinary violations! You've crossed a red line!" Her uncle's voice grew stern. "The organization will definitely deal with you, and it will deal with you severely!"

"How... will they deal with me?" Zhang Qian's voice trembled.

"First, your career is basically over. Don't even think about promotions or awards anymore. Second, to calm public opinion and to 'toughen you up,' you'll be transferred from post to post frequently over the next few years. Wherever the work is hardest, most exhausting, and least rewarding, that's where you'll go. If you can endure it, you can still wear that police uniform and scrape by until retirement. If you can't... submit your own resignation."

Zhang Qian felt the world go dark before her eyes. No hope of promotion, a transfer to a marginal post... It was a death sentence for her career, with a stay of execution.

Her uncle paused, his tone growing even more subdued. "It's not just you. This time... I'll be dragged down with you too. For the next few years, I can basically forget about awards, honors, and chances at promotion. You're on your own!"

With that, her uncle hung up without a single word of comfort.

Listening to the busy signal, Zhang Qian felt the last thing holding her up collapse. She slid down the sofa onto the floor, tears streaming silently, mingled with despair and unwillingness to accept it. Everything she had struggled for over so many years and painstakingly built had vanished like a bubble, all because of one Sun Tingting, and because of her own momentary obsession and hope of getting lucky.

Her phone continued to ring stubbornly, a merciless mockery of her failed life. She raised her lifeless eyes and looked at the little rectangle on the floor, flashing and buzzing incessantly. At last, she reached out, not to answer it, but to hold down the power button and force it to shut down.

At last, the world was quiet.

But all that remained was deathly silence, and the endless trouble and torment yet to come.

When the tree falls, the monkeys scatter. She was a great tree that had once seemed sturdy, but before she could truly tower into the sky, she had begun to rot from within and had come crashing down in the wind and rain. The monkeys had long since scattered and fled, or were watching coldly, waiting to divide up the wreckage she left behind.