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The ambulance arrived, and Brother Huang and Shao Zhixin accompanied the suspect on board. They would head to the hospital for a check-up first to ensure there were no issues before returning to the precinct for questioning.
He Chuan Zhou followed closely behind in her car. Inside the vehicle, the group was still a bit shaken from the events. For the first few minutes after getting in, they exchanged a few fragmented remarks before falling into silence.
Each person replayed the events in their minds, piecing together the influx of information. After sorting through everything, a colleague in the backseat exclaimed in awe, “So that bluff you pulled this morning not only got Sun Yiyao to spill some details but scared her enough to dig up the body overnight?”
Xu Yu glanced at the time on her phone and corrected him, “It’s past midnight ,technically, that was yesterday.”
The colleague patted the back of the driver’s seat, full of admiration. “No wonder you’re the Captain, He!”
Xu Yu rested a hand on his shoulder, adopting a tone of mock wisdom. “You can’t just credit Captain He because Brother Huang isn’t here. Neglecting his contribution like this? I’ll report you and let you experience the harsh realities of office politics.”
Her colleague laughed and brushed her hand off. “Give me a break! Go deal with that bird’s nest of hair on your head first.”
Xu Yu pulled off her hair tie and combed through her hair with her fingers. As she pulled out a strand, her smile froze briefly, then turned to a bitter one. She consoled herself dramatically, “Well, it was worth it, I guess.”
Unfortunately, Sun Yiyao still clung to her silence, refusing to confess the truth even in the end. If they could break her psychological defenses during questioning and extract the exact burial location, it would save a lot of effort.
Even so, it wasn’t a major issue. Based on her previous locations, the police would intensify their search and undoubtedly uncover the body.
“I should’ve gone in the ambulance,” Xu Yu said wistfully. “That way, I could’ve scolded her a bit too. Now it’s all on Brother Huang. My heartfelt thanks to my stand-in.”
In the ambulance ahead, Brother Huang sat upright with his back against the wall of the vehicle, his posture stiff as a rod. His cold gaze was fixed on Sun Yiyao, who lay on the stretcher, feigning unconsciousness.
The sweat on her forehead had dried, but her legs still trembled. Despite her tightly closed eyes, her eyeballs darted around under the lids. Her breathing was deliberately slowed, alternating between irregular patterns.
It seemed as if the empty stretch of time had given her a chance to calm down and realize what a monumental mistake she had made. Now, uncertain of how to face the consequences, she seemed to believe that projecting a fragile, helpless facade might help her escape reality.
But she was deluding herself. No matter how many convoluted schemes churned in her mind, this time, the law would catch up with her.
Brother Huang had a lot to say, but with the doctor and nurse present, he held back for the time being.
His gaze, sharp as a blade, bore into Sun Yiyao’s face. Even with her eyes closed, she felt utterly uncomfortable. She subtly turned her head to the side, trying to alleviate the piercing sensation that prickled like needles at her back.
The doctor stole a glance at Brother Huang’s expression, intimidated by the gloom and menace radiating from him. He didn’t dare to make casual conversation. The nurse beside him was no different, sitting with her hands neatly placed on her knees, posture ramrod straight, as if transported back to an exam hall from years ago.
Who could bear this atmosphere?
The doctor opened his mouth carefully and spoke in a low voice. "Um... why are you treating us like we're deaf? Don't hold back. If you have any questions, just ask. We promise not to say a word to anyone."
Brother Huang shot her a cold glance. “Stop pretending. With those minor injuries of yours, when I was three, my mom’s breath alone was enough to fix me.”
Shao Zhixin, putting down his phone, thought for a moment, then blew on the scrape on his elbow. Brother Huang’s hand came down on his forehead with a smack, eyes flashing with irritation.
This kid, ruining my act!
Shao Zhixin looked up, wide-eyed and innocent.
Leaning down, Brother Huang brought his face close to Sun Yiyao’s ear, his voice harsh and sharp. “Do you realize that hitting a police officer with your car is a more serious crime than everything else you’ve done? What were you thinking? Your kid isn’t even a year old, is he? Did you not think of him when you stepped on that gas pedal? Let me tell you, everything’s on the body cam. There’s no way you can argue your way out of this. If you don’t come clean now, you’ll have no chance later!”
Sun Yiyao’s breath hitched for a moment, but she stayed silent.
“Oh, not talking? Fine. We’ll go by the book.” Brother Huang gestured to Shao Zhixin with a nod. “Contact her family. Her husband, her parents… skip the kid, he’s too young. Give her husband a heads-up and suggest they consult a lawyer. Let them find out how many years she’s facing in a situation like this. Let’s not have anyone claiming I’m intimidating her.”
As Brother Huang finished his statement with a frosty tone, he suddenly remembered how he had played the role of a gentle, frustrated subordinate during the interrogation with He Chuan Zhou. Now, that facade was long gone.
He smirked to himself. This wasn’t the best environment to get results. He decided to stop wasting words and leaned back, closing his eyes to rest.
By the time they were done at the hospital, it was nearly 4 a.m.
He Chuan Zhou had caught a short nap in the waiting room, setting a two-hour alarm. When the ringtone startled her awake, her whole body felt stiff and rusty. She splashed her face with cold water to snap herself out of it.
Brother Huang had just returned to the precinct with the team. He made himself an extra-strong cup of coffee and, seeing He Chuan Zhou walk in, brewed a cup for her too.
The overnight grind had left everyone pale and weary, as if a layer of frost clung to their faces. They moved about hurriedly, resembling restless spirits colliding in the hallways.
Pressing his shoulder, Brother Huang stretched out his stiff limbs with a casual series of moves that could only be described as a senior’s version of a workout routine. Then, grabbing the file on the table, he waved it grandly and declared, “Let’s go. If I don’t get her to talk today, I might as well change my last name!”
With his bold words echoing, Brother Huang marched into the interrogation room. He Chuan Zhou followed at a steady pace, unhurried.
Outside, the sky was beginning to lighten, the dawn casting faint hues. The drama was reaching its crescendo, and the main actors were finally stepping onto the stage.
Brother Huang tossed the file onto the table with casual indifference, dragging his chair back with a grating screech that made Sun Yiyao lift her head.
Her long hair was disheveled, her posture slightly hunched, and her hollow eyes stared at them vacantly. It was unclear if she had used the past four hours to come up with a convincing excuse for herself.
He Chuan Zhou regarded her calmly for a moment before deciding not to waste time dancing around the issue. “Let’s skip the small talk. Start from the beginning. Tell us how Zhu Shujun died.”
Sun Yiyao sat there, clearly unprepared to justify herself. She was lost in thought, hands clasped tightly together, nervously rubbing her thumbs.
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” He Chuan Zhou scoffed. “We’ve already traced everything back to Yanmu Village. Do you really think there’s anything we don’t know by now?”
“I didn’t lie to you,” Brother Huang interjected, his tone both exasperated and firm. “I told you this was for your own good, to give you a chance to come clean. But you didn’t believe me. You thought we were just bluffing. That man convinced you to take the fall for him, to help him dispose of the body, and you trusted him without question. Sun Yiyao, what should I even say to you? Can’t you use your head for once?”
His voice grew louder, filled with frustration, as he slapped the table. “What about your child? Did you even think about him? How could you be so foolish?”
Following Brother Huang’s lead, He Chuan Zhou chimed in, her voice cutting. “Do you honestly believe that, at this point, you can just play dumb and get away with it?”
The barrage of questions left Sun Yiyao silent. She pressed her lips together tightly and closed her eyes.
“How much is this loyalty of yours worth?” He Chuan Zhou asked, her fingers tapping steadily on the table. “Tens of thousands? Hundreds of thousands? Do you think spending three to five years in prison is a good deal?” Her tone grew stern. “Let me make this clear: you won’t live to spend that money. He’s not getting away either. Do you think we’d come this far only to let him slip through our fingers?”
Brother Huang leaned in, his voice heavy with disappointment. “Are you really so blinded by money? You’ve thrown away your entire life. Did you even get a chance to enjoy what you earned? Was it worth it? You think prison is some walk in the park? When you get out, your son will be old enough to understand things. After so many years of absence, what do you think his attitude toward you will be? He’ll hate the stranger who left a stain on his record. Worse, he might face bullying because of what you’ve done. Is that what you want?”
He Chuan Zhou’s voice turned colder. “Let me be blunt: do you even know where that large sum of money is coming from? When you’re in prison, and they refuse to pay you, what can you do about it? Even if you somehow get the money, you won’t be able to spend it in there. It’ll go to your husband or your parents. Do you think time stops for everyone else while you’re serving your sentence? Do you think your husband, who hasn’t exactly treated you well, will suddenly be loyal? By the time you realize you’ve made a mistake, you won’t even have a place to cry. Why are you so pitifully lying to yourself?”
Sun Yiyao’s resolve wavered visibly. Though she had the air of someone who had given up the fight, she continued to hold on for reasons even she might not understand.
The officers’ words struck a chord, unsettling her deeply. She raised her clenched fists to her mouth, her lips trembling as she muttered inaudibly to herself, fragments of sentences lost in whispers.
Brother Huang’s brows furrowed deeply, several sharp lines creasing his forehead as he wrestled with the urge to unleash some harsh rebukes.
He had practically staked his family name on this, and yet this woman showed no intention of cooperating.
After a moment of tense silence, He Chuan Zhou pulled out Sun Yiyao’s phone, lighting up the screen. “What’s your unlock code?”
Twisting the phone idly in her hand, she added in a calm tone, “Don’t you want to see pictures of your son?”
Finally, Sun Yiyao responded. Her eyes lit up, suddenly widening, and she hastily blurted out a string of four numbers.
He Chuan Zhou unlocked the phone and opened her photo gallery. It was filled almost entirely with pictures of her son and videos of him playing on a bed.
In the background of the videos, there were faint baby babbles and indistinct conversations. One voice, a woman’s, laughed softly, another woman on the other side of the camera could be heard choking back sobs.
After watching one clip, He Chuan Zhou stood and handed the phone over.
Sun Yiyao quickly took it from her hands.
The gallery documented her child’s entire growth, from his wrinkly newborn skin to milestones like rolling over, crawling, and clinging to his parents’ necks as he affectionately nuzzled against their clothes. Each stage had been meticulously captured by Sun Yiyao.
She scrolled through the photos slowly and deliberately, her focus intense. Every frame, every saved video, was etched into her memory.
He Chuan Zhou stood behind her silently, watching as her fingers swiped across the screen, her gaze filled with a mix of longing and sorrow. She didn’t interrupt or hurry her.
Over half an hour passed before she reached the end of the gallery.
When the scrolling stopped, the reality of the present crashed over her like a cruel punishment. Sun Yiyao’s face drained of all color as she emerged, distraught, from her brief reprieve into memories.
He Chuan Zhou gently pulled the phone from her grasp. Sun Yiyao clung to it desperately, her muffled sobs turning into faint, pleading cries.
But He Chuan Zhou mercilessly pried her fingers open, as if taking away the last piece of driftwood she had been clinging to. Before turning back to her seat, she left her with one cold, measured statement:
“Think carefully. I’ve said all I need to. You gave birth to him, what do you want to teach him about life?”
Sun Yiyao’s gaze remained fixed on the phone, following it with every step He Chuan Zhou took. Even after she sat down, her eyes stayed glued to the table, dazed.
Neither of them spoke again. The room fell into a heavy silence, allowing the tug-of-war in Sun Yiyao’s heart to play out on its own.
From outside came the sound of hurried footsteps and a colleague’s sharp voice: “Stay still! What are you looking around for?” as they wrangled another suspect.
No one knew how much time passed before Sun Yiyao finally let out a deep sigh, her eyes narrowing with resolve. She gathered her thoughts and, in a voice barely above a whisper, said:
“It’s Shen Wenzheng.”
“You’ve got to be—” Brother Huang began, only to stop abruptly.
The emotions he had been building up came crashing down in the wake of those four simple words. He stood there, stunned, before turning to look at He Chuan Zhou in disbelief.
The two officers were momentarily stunned, staring at each other in disbelief. They exchanged glances to confirm what they’d just heard, but confusion still lingered.
Sun Yiyao repeated in a low, trembling voice, “It was Shen Wenzheng who killed her.”
Brother Huang closed his mouth, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he processed this unexpected twist. Slowly, the realization dawned on him, and his initial shock gave way to growing excitement, emotions sprouting like bamboo shoots after the rain.
Unable to suppress the relief spreading across his face, he tried to compose himself. Reminding himself of his professional identity, he forced the corners of his mouth down and adopted an expression that hovered between anger and amusement. “You serious?”
Sun Yiyao, too tired to care whether their reactions were appropriate, gave a faint, almost imperceptible nod.
Brother Huang coughed lightly to clear his throat, his demeanor softening. His gaze toward Sun Yiyao turned warm and almost fatherly as he gestured toward the camera and said, “Hey, someone get Ms. Sun a glass of water. Take your time.”
He just barely stopped himself from adding, "The night is still young.”
“Why did he kill her?” Brother Huang asked. “No, wait, tell us where the body is first.”
11:35 AM, Yanmu Village
The midday sun shone brightly overhead, bathing the countryside in golden light. The sky was an unblemished blue, with wisps of translucent clouds floating above the ink-wash mountains. Distant voices, muffled and chaotic, drifted faintly from beyond the visible horizon.
A police car was parked sideways at the entrance of a narrow dirt path. Yellow caution tape stretched around the perimeter of a derelict wooden house at the foot of the mountain, encircling a patch of wild bamboo forest and blocking curious onlookers from getting too close.
He Chuan Zhou stood outside the courtyard, listening to the rustling of the bamboo leaves as the wind moved through them, waiting for updates from the forensic team.
A loud voice rang out from deeper within the forest: “We’ve dug her up!”
The body hadn’t been buried deep. After three years of heavy rains, the grave was already showing signs of exposure. Even if they hadn’t found it today, someone else might have stumbled upon it soon enough.
The remains were wrapped in a layer of waterproof material, leaving the bloodstains on the victim’s clothing surprisingly intact.
Mrs. Zhu, the victim’s mother, was held back by officers standing outside the caution tape. Hearing the announcement, she collapsed to her knees, the sound of her joints hitting the ground sharp and sudden. Her face, caught between unease and resignation, crumpled as a guttural wail tore from her chest, spilling into a flood of uncontrollable tears.
Her grief had no gradual onset. From the moment she accepted her daughter’s disappearance to the instant she learned of her murder, there was no buffer in between.
She often dreamed of retrieving Zhu Shujun’s body, yet she feared the reality of seeing it. Sometimes, in fleeting moments of denial, she would fantasize about her daughter reappearing at their doorstep, apologizing for losing her way.
But now, the thought of Zhu Shujun lying cold and alone in damp soil for years, buried namelessly less than a kilometer from home, filled her with an indescribable sorrow.
She imagined the long, dark nights, the silent winds, and couldn’t help but fear that her daughter’s spirit might still feel lonely or afraid in death.
The woman lowered her head to the ground, her forehead pressing against the coarse, dry earth. The gritty sand, warm from the sun, caused a faint stinging sensation.
At this moment, her mind was completely blank. Her senses dissolved into a tide of overwhelming pain. The last fragile hope, barely enough to even call a wish, had shattered, leaving the world devoid of meaning.
On all fours, she crawled forward. A police officer on duty bent down, hesitant to stop her, and followed her as she moved, her voice trembling with a relentless obsession.
“Are you cold? Huh? My child… Mommy is here…”
He Chuan Zhou took a step forward but froze in place, her body drenched in sweat as the woman’s mournful, drawn-out cries echoed. For a moment, the scene felt surreal, like a haunting mirage.
Brother Huang let out a long sigh, gently placing a comforting hand on her shoulder and giving it a reassuring pat. His voice carried a mix of emotions as he said, “It’s almost over.”
The word over was a concept far beyond He Chuan Zhou’s reach, a dream always confined to the realm of impossible hypotheticals.
She had once hoped that people like Tao Xianyong and Han Songshan would face the justice they deserved. She had imagined extreme ways of achieving it, teetering on the edge of morality. She thought if she could accomplish that, she might have something meaningful to say when visiting He Xu’s grave. At least then, she wouldn’t just stand there in silence.
Or perhaps none of it had ever happened. Maybe, in some alternate reality, He Xu stood by the window every morning, waving as she left for work.
Every scene felt so vivid, so real.
And yet, year after year, she persisted in a life that felt hollow and directionless.
Every time she put on her uniform, the harshness of reality jolted her awake. It crushed her with an unyielding force, leaving her battered and bloodied in its wake.
But now, as Brother Huang spoke that word, a ray of light seemed to pierce through He Chuan Zhou’s vision, pulling the future closer to her grasp.
For the first time, it felt as though the end of this ordeal was truly within reach. She could sense the conclusion of this long and winding road.
“It’s almost over…” she whispered softly, her heart pounding like a drum.