Chapter 372: Taking Photos

Having decided to help Sahala clear her name, Zheng Tan immediately sprang into action; he had to seize the time, for in another week a large number of students would start heading home, and even if the truth were made public then, its impact would be much less.

If he couldn't settle this, Sahala would probably never be able to frolic freely on campus again and would be mocked. Although it doesn't understand overly complicated human speech, many animals—especially those that have lived a long time in human society—are sensitive to people's emotive gazes, able to discern liking and hostility to some extent; Zheng Tan has seen plenty of such examples, and Sahala is one of them.

Being an animal is also no easy feat.

And those few bike thieves seemed also to plan to make an extra profit before the winter break, because some of the more expensive bicycles are moved to the student dorms before students leave campus; ordinarily many people find it a hassle to lug them up and down, especially those living on higher floors, but once vacation comes they have no choice—they all move the bikes into the dorms or into the dorms of classmates on lower floors, to prevent theft and also to keep them from being left outside to suffer wind and rain; the bike shed is never as safe as inside a dorm.

The good bikes are all taken to the dorms and locked up, with the building managers keeping watch, so thieves won't target them; as for the old bikes left lying around outside, stealing them wouldn't fetch much money, and the thieves themselves aren't keen on it, so during this period they will commit a few more thefts.

Zheng Tan isn't a professional in this line of work, and given his current condition, the methods he can employ are limited; the strongest evidence would be photos and video, but he couldn't possibly install a camera or bug here, lacking both equipment and the skill. Still, taking a few covert photos is doable.

When it comes to taking photos, the only usable tool at hand seems to be the phone.

Arriving at the Old Tile House Area, he crouched in front of that old wooden table, Zheng Tan gazed at the open drawer, pondering.

The drawer held two phones, one that he used before, the other left behind by Liuba.

I had thought it wouldn't be needed for a long time, but now it looks like I really will have to use it.

After thinking it over, Zheng Tan still installed the new SIM card together with it.

After installing the battery, the phone powered on. Inside were several apps whose functions Zheng Tan didn't know. He tested the camera; its shooting capability was decent—though not as good as a phone four years later, it still had considerable advantages over other phones of the same era.

Electronic products update too fast. What cost three to five thousand a couple of years ago now sells for just a few hundred. The old phone Zheng Tan originally had was still considered high‑end back then. Now it can't keep pace. As someone who has been through this, Zheng Tan clearly sees that even this new phone in his hand will soon be obsoleted by Liuba.

Keeping up with the times—nothing more than that.

Fortunately, Zheng Tan's current needs are few: as long as he can make calls, send texts, and take photos, it's fine; the old phone's pixel count is insufficient, so he must use Liuba's.

During the day Zheng Tan daren't come openly; he can only wait until night.

Zheng Tan doesn't know what those four people are called; they don't use full names when addressing each other, and he doesn't know which college they belong to, but he can be certain that all four are students of Chu Hua Da Xue's main campus.

When returning to school, Zheng Tan saw the old bike that Sahala had urinated on; a stranger student was riding it, chatting with a classmate, and upon reaching the campus gate he parked the bike in a shed inside the campus near the gate.

"Why not ride it out? Why park it here?" said the person on the old bike.

"Buddy, where you park your broken bike doesn't matter; I can't afford to lose mine. I heard it's unsafe off‑campus, so it's better to park it here at school." The person on the geared bike parked, locked it, and said, "Last month my girlfriend's fold‑bike, which she hadn't owned long, was stolen. When buying it I'd deliberately gotten an eighty‑yuan lock, not a thirty‑ or fifty‑yuan one, yet it still got taken—it was parked outside a restaurant nearby, and to this day I still haven't found it. When parking, I always look for spots with cameras; the theft risk is lower that way." As he spoke, he pointed to a camera not far away.

"I think it's better to just buy a used bike—like mine, which I just got for fifty bucks; I'm not worried about it being stolen, and even if it is, I wouldn't feel much loss."

"For this wreck, thirty would be decent; fifty? You must have been ripped off—where'd you buy it?"

"It's not far—just that horse‑racing vehicle shop over there, though they said they'd just replaced the brakes and it still comes with a lock and key."

"Changing a brake cable at the campus repair shop costs only a couple of yuan, lowering the cost even more; as for the lock and key, who sells a bike without them?"

After the two walked off, Zheng Tan approached the old bike; its wheels still carried a faint dog‑urine smell, not easy to detect, likely washed off. The frame hadn't been repainted—probably because those folks found it too troublesome. As for the horse‑racing vehicle shop mentioned by that student just now, it's exactly the shop Zheng Tan has been watching, the place where those few bike thieves process the stolen bikes.

After dinner that evening, Zheng Tan put on his vest and went out, installed the phone in the Old Tile House Area, then headed toward the "Horse Racing Vehicle Shop."

At night nobody noticed Zheng Tan; his black vest wasn't easily visible, and late at night no one would stare at a cat.

Arriving at the Horse Racing Vehicle Shop, the store was still open; a few people sat inside—aside from the boss Zheng Tan had seen during the day, the others were strangers to him. The four student bike thieves weren't there.

Zheng Tan entered via the alley beside the shop, then jumped onto the wall of the shop's rear courtyard.

Several bicycles were parked in the courtyard; because they'd been sprayed with paint earlier that day, they still smelled a bit.

The women's bike that had been dumped in front of the pancake shop now had a new coat; its original paint had been worn off, and a fresh spray of a different color was applied. Since many people who look for a lost bike first check whether the color matches their own, the new paint makes it less likely to be spotted by the owner.

The courtyard was very quiet; piles of goods and parts were stacked by the shop's back door, with no one there, the back door shut—probably because the courtyard gate was locked, so nobody paid attention to that back door.

Zheng Tan listened to the surrounding sounds, confirmed nobody was nearby, then turned on the phone and took photos.

To get clear night shots he'd need to use the flash, but Zheng Tan feared the light would draw attention. So after each shot he carefully checked the surroundings—not just the Horse Racing Vehicle Shop side, but also the nearby residential and storefront buildings—and only after confirming there was no unusual activity would he proceed to the next photo.

Inside the shop a few people were engrossed in a heated card game; none of them would ever imagine that at that very moment a cat was snapping photos in their backyard with a phone.

He didn't take many shots; after capturing the key few, Zheng Tan jumped onto the wall and glanced around.

Zheng Tan planned to take a few more photos in daylight, but bringing the phone during the day would be awkward, so he intended to hide the phone around here tonight; tomorrow daytime he could come without the vest and sneak‑shoot directly.

The balcony on the shop's second floor is fairly narrow, stacked with junk that hasn't been moved in ages; the rear door on the second floor is also shut, and from the wear marks it looks like it's rarely opened.

Zheng Tan jumped onto the second‑floor balcony. He carefully cleared a space among the clutter. This way, the surrounding junk could block the lines of sight from neighboring residents on either side. Between two boxes by the railing a gap opened up, letting Zheng Tan sneak‑shoot conveniently while making it hard for people below to spot him.

After trying it out, Zheng Tan was fairly satisfied; feeling it was good enough, he set the phone down and slipped back home.

The phone Liuba gave him has a phone‑lock feature: after three incorrect password attempts it shuts down and wipes its data. Compared with other phones it's indeed more secure—those who specialize in this sort of work don't fear being discovered.

Tomorrow won't see rain; if there were rain or snow, those four wouldn't leave the bikes out like this, after all, those are the bikes they intend to sell for money.

The next day, Zheng Tan didn't rush out; instead he sneaked online to check the campus forum's discussion of the Sahala incident.

That hot post was still up; additionally there were posts saying Ruan Ying had apologized to the school's students, and some students urged Ruan Ying to take Sahala to a veterinary clinic for examination.

If it were a person, this situation would be akin to everyone saying you're a lunatic, a madman, needing to be sent to the hospital for examination; if you don't get checked, they'd just assume you're both neurotic and psychotic. To a person that would undoubtedly be insulting, but when applied to an animal it seems natural enough; many demand that Ruan Ying produce the veterinary hospital's health records and recent checkup, a stance of unyielding insistence.

To claim that nobody in this is deliberately stirring up trouble—Zheng Tan would not believe it even if you beat him to death.

Students wouldn't casually pressure a professor, let alone an academician; they lack the gumption, and even if they had it they'd see no point. But these few not only spoke, they also stirred others into spouting nonsense—just a moment ago they were talking about dogs, then before long they brought up the project fund, suspecting things like using fake invoices to siphon research money.

Some students have already sensed that something's off and stopped spouting nonsense.

Scandals involving big figures at universities happen every year, and they're always at prestigious schools; Chu Hua Da Xue has had its share, though nothing's been heard of late. Now that this has been brought up, it's no longer something the students should handle; voicing an opinion afterward would be fine, but with the situation unclear, it's better to stay silent.

Having offended someone, these little shrimps can't withstand it. There have been plenty of examples: junior professors who angered a prominent bigwig got sidelined, constrained everywhere; a graduate student whose views clashed with his advisor's was stalled for years, barred from graduating… Such things are common, and when students gather they also gossip a bit.

Although fewer people are posting on the forum, many still follow it; students and teachers alike are watching—afraid to speak up, yet not allowing others to observe? Anyway, since it doesn't concern them personally, they might as well just watch the show.

Someone even directly said, "Let them dogs bite each other," not knowing how deep the resentment runs.

Looking at the latest discussions, nobody mentions anymore the female student who was knocked over together with her bike by Sahala; even Sahala is brought up less and less. This means the debate has already moved onto the main point of contention, and it's unclear when the school will delete the thread.

After Zheng Tan had looked awhile and was about to shut the computer and head out, he saw a post from yesterday that had just been bumped to the top by a reply—it was about a stolen bike.

He clicked in and saw that the poster was a female student who wrote roughly when and where she'd lost her bike, and she'd posted old photos of it, asking anyone who saw it to let her know.

The pictures proved it was the very bike Zheng Tan had seen.

Zheng Tan noticed that in one of the photos the girl posted, the bike's seat bore a string of English letters— the pinyin of her name written in ornamental script; someone unaware might think it was the bike's brand.

That's a solid piece of evidence.

When he took photos yesterday, Zheng Tan hadn't noticed the seat; after looking at those pictures a couple more times, he turned off the phone and went downstairs. (To be continued…)

PS: There'll be another update later, but everyone's better off getting an early night.