Han Weicheng's statement left Shu Lanzhou deeply disheartened. She had always known that he looked down on her, but she never imagined that his contempt ran so deep.
So, in his eyes, she wasn't even capable of publishing a paper on her own?
He thought so little of her that he was willing to push for a public investigation with full confidence—just to humiliate her, to disgrace her, to have the school punish her.
He truly didn't care one bit about the years they had spent as teacher and student.
Shu Lanzhou had thought that no matter what Han Weicheng did to her, she wouldn't be surprised, wouldn't be hurt anymore. But standing there, looking at him now, she still felt a chill seep into her heart—a hollow bitterness that left her reeling.
Turns out, some pain cuts just as deep, no matter how many times you experience it.
"Relax," Mu Yaning whispered beside her, noticing how Shu Lanzhou's nails were nearly digging into her own palm. She gently patted her hand. "Remember what I said—no matter what happens, I've got your back."
Leaving her with those words, Mu Yaning rose and walked onto the stage.
"I don't have much to say," she began, her voice calm. "If Professor Han hadn't brought it up today, I wouldn't have even known that Shu Lanzhou had published such a paper."
"As everyone knows, I transferred to the Traditional Chinese Medicine department seven years ago, and since then, I haven't done any teaching related to cytology. That paper is clearly outside my expertise."
"I'm under no obligation to prove my innocence when baseless accusations are thrown around like this, but to save time, I'm willing to let the school's cybersecurity officer examine my computer."
Her words sent a ripple of shock through the room.
Han Weicheng frowned. "Just because your computer doesn't have the file doesn't mean you didn't write it. It's entirely possible you used her laptop to do it."
Mu Yaning let out a cold laugh. "Shall I help you file a police report then? Let the authorities investigate whose hands this paper really came from?"
"Fellow faculty and administrators, let me say it again—if Professor Han hadn't brought this up today, I wouldn't have even known about Shu Lanzhou's paper in that journal."
"Everyone knows how swamped I've been lately—I've barely had time to sleep, let alone read journals or return to campus. That's why we're even having this public hearing in the first place."
Director Zhou from the Academic Affairs Office nodded in agreement. "That's true. But since Professor Han has raised this concern, we can't ignore it. It's in everyone's best interest to get to the bottom of this. Shu Lanzhou, do you have anything to add?"
Shu Lanzhou calmly pulled out her laptop.
"This is my personal computer, the one I used to write the paper. It contains all the revision records," she said. "It also has the email correspondence I had with the journal's editorial team. The cybersecurity team can verify the timeline—whether the paper was truly written by me."
Her laptop was soon passed to the front, and the school's cybersecurity officer began checking it in full view of everyone.
It didn't take long—less than half an hour before the results were in.
"After investigation, we found no trace of any related files on Professor Mu's computer. However, Shu Lanzhou's device contains the original manuscript and a full revision history."
"Reconstructing the timeline, we can see she worked on the paper late at night—from around 11 p.m. to 4 a.m.—before submitting it at 5 a.m. on Tuesday, October 9th."
"At the same time, we confirmed that Professor Mu's computer was being used for unrelated tasks."
The officer stood and announced the findings to everyone in the auditorium.
Mu Yaning looked at Han Weicheng with a smirk. "Oh, now I remember—on the 9th, I was at the city hospital. I didn't return to campus until the 11th."
"If Professor Han still doesn't believe me, he's welcome to check the hospital's surveillance footage. I have witnesses too."
Shu Lanzhou looked up. "So do I. I worked on that paper all night, and all three of my roommates can testify to that."
Director Zhou nodded. "Since the investigation has concluded, Professor Han's accusations are unfounded. Professor Mu did not violate any rules in assisting a student with publication. Do you have anything more to say?"
Han Weicheng's lips trembled. How could this be? That high-level, rigorously reasoned paper was actually written by Shu Lanzhou?
He stared at her in disbelief. "You really wrote that paper? You're not lying?"
"Do I need to call my witnesses up here to testify one by one?" Shu Lanzhou's tone was ice-cold, her eyes devoid of emotion. "I know you've always looked down on my work. Back when Lin Muyao and I submitted papers on the same topic, you chose hers."
"After that, I went back and rewrote mine from scratch, revising it over and over before finally arriving at the published version. This paper is the result of my hard work. Why do you have to question that?"
Han Weicheng's face went from pale to ashen. After a long pause, he said stiffly:
"It must be a fluke. I have here all of Shu Lanzhou's past lab work and papers written while she was under my supervision. In all that time, she never once completed an experiment on her own—none of her papers were ever published."
As he spoke, data regarding Shu Lanzhou's experimental record and previous writings was displayed on the screen for everyone to see.
Row after row of data scrolled by.
"In just over two years, she participated in 271 experiments? That's an insane workload…"
Mu Yaning clenched her fists, her face clouding with anger. Through gritted teeth, she said:
"Even the machines at the hospital haven't reached numbers like that. Professor Han, your team really is top-tier. A student's workload rivaling a machine—amazing!"
Her sarcasm struck a chord, and the room fell into stunned silence.
"Shu Lanzhou's incredible… so many experiments?"
"Yeah, most people couldn't handle that kind of schedule."
"No wonder she got into Professor Han's team in her freshman year—she earned it through sheer effort."
"With that frequency, there's no way she had time to conduct an experiment independently."
"Exactly."
…
Even Han Weicheng was taken aback by the sheer number of experiments. His face twisted with unease.
But that wasn't the point he was trying to make. What he wanted to prove was that Shu Lanzhou lacked the skills and experience to write a paper on her own.
"Quiet, everyone, please," he said, raising a hand. "I admit my team has a heavy workload, and our students have demanding schedules—but that's not the issue here."
"What I'm saying is—based on Shu Lanzhou's ability, it's impossible that she generated the paper's data herself. That paper is not entirely hers."
"I don't believe that Professor Mu had no hand in it. You've been pushing her into the spotlight so aggressively—have you considered the mismatch between her actual ability and the expectations being placed on her?"
"Are you sure this is in her best interest? Could it not end up hurting her—affecting her graduation, her job prospects?"
"Is this really what a responsible teacher should do? Have you not violated your duties as an educator? I think the school needs to address this seriously!"
Mu Yaning chuckled darkly.
"So what you're really upset about is that Shu Lanzhou has improved since leaving you—and now you're desperate to prove that her success isn't real."
"That I'm just propping her up to embarrass you."
"You think you're so important, Han Weicheng, that I'd go out of my way to slap you in the face?"
"Well, let me say this now and say it loud—Shu Lanzhou is exceptional, because she left you!"