Old Qin led Lu Yan to a door in the basement and swiped his card to open it.

Standing at the entrance, Lu Yan peered inside with confusion. The room was plain white and perfectly square—an ordinary room that didn’t look anything like a place for identifying suspects.

Just as she was about to question Old Qin, the adjacent room lit up.

Through the full-length glass wall, she saw Cheng Zhou.

Though this wasn’t their first meeting, knowing definitively that he was the suspect made this encounter different. The moment she saw him, it felt as if something heavy had struck the bridge of her nose, and an unexpected metallic taste spread through her nasal cavity.

She couldn’t hear his voice, but she could see him speaking.

As he talked, his expression was so relaxed and arrogant that if she hadn’t known he was a criminal under interrogation, she would have thought he was casually sitting in a café drinking coffee.

The last time she’d seen him at Da Zhong’s birthday party, he’d been so skilled at deception—despite already knowing her and Jiang Chengyi, he’d acted as if they were meeting for the first time.

Thinking about how this man had stalked her eight years ago and was connected to Deng Man’s death, she could no longer stand still. She stepped forward quickly, pressing her palm against the glass wall, staring intently at him.

“His confession is still incomplete,” Old Qin walked up beside Lu Yan and spoke gravely. “For two days and nights, this man has been as stubborn as a cold stone. Toward the end, although Dr. Yu’s psychological approach had some effect, this person’s psychology is too different from normal people. He’s only revealed a small portion, speaking lightly of it all, and many key details about the crimes remain unclear. Dr. Lu, at this point, witness testimonies are particularly important. Take a good look at him. Don’t be afraid—now that he’s in our custody, this dog has no chance of escape.”

“Alright.” Lu Yan swallowed the bitter saliva in her mouth and slowly loosened her clenched hand.

The interrogation seemed to conclude, and shortly after, Jiang Chengyi and Yu Zheng exchanged a few words before getting up from behind the table and leaving one after another.

Old Qin hurriedly left with Lu Yan.

“This is just the beginning,” Yu Zheng said with his back to them, looking somewhat exhausted. “You see, we barely know the method and timeline of the crimes, but many details are still blank. I can foresee that we still have a lot of work ahead of us. However, Captain Jiang, I’m prepared for a prolonged battle. I’ll continue to assist with your work over the next two weeks until we complete the suspect’s confession.”

“The remaining work is too detailed—let me handle the arrangements. Dr. Yu, you’ve had some exhausting days; go get some good rest first.” As he spoke, Jiang Chengyi’s gaze suddenly shifted past Yu Zheng toward Lu Yan and the others.

The sight of Lu Yan immediately put his mind at ease. Especially after such an interrogation, his chest had felt compressed between two heavy stone slabs, making it difficult to breathe. During the questioning, he had shuddered several times, and in moments of impulse, he had even wanted to leave the interrogation room to personally confirm her safety.

Even now, knowing she was safe and sound, he couldn’t help but examine her repeatedly.

She walked closer slowly, her gaze remaining locked with his, very quiet but not dejected.

“Dr. Lu,” Yu Zheng turned around, “How was it? Did you complete the identification?”

Lu Yan didn’t want to reveal her emotions. She walked to Jiang Chengyi’s side and managed a smile, saying, “Yes.”

Yu Zheng smiled warmly, though with a hint of emotion: “Hmm, it wasn’t easy, but at least it’s over now.”

All four of them fell silent for a moment.

Jiang Chengyi turned to Old Qin and said, “Old Qin, you’re tired too. Go rest with Dr. Yu. I’ll handle what comes next.”

“Captain Jiang, how can you say that?” Old Qin knew there was still much work to be done and firmly refused. “I’ll take Dr. Lu to record her testimony first, then come back to help you interrogate that psychopath.”

Lu Yan was concerned about Cheng Zhou’s confession regarding Deng Man, but since Jiang Chengyi hadn’t mentioned it and the setting wasn’t appropriate, she naturally didn’t dare ask.

In the elevator, Lu Yan carefully observed Dr. Yu’s complexion and asked with concern, “Dr. Yu, you don’t look well. Are you feeling unwell?”

Yu Zheng shook his head, his voice somewhat muffled. As the elevator doors opened, he lifted his foot to step out but couldn’t move. His body swayed and fell straight forward.

At the hospital, Dr. Yu was diagnosed with transient hypertension and electrolyte imbalance, requiring immediate bed rest.

In the evening, after Jiang Chengyi and Lu Yan visited Dr. Yu and learned his condition was stable, they left the hospital.

“Let’s go eat first,” Jiang Chengyi still remembered the Sichuan restaurant Lu Yan had wanted to visit in the morning. “After we eat, I need to go back to the bureau for overtime work.”

“You can’t come home to sleep tonight?” She was really worried about his health after two consecutive nights of staying up.

“I will.” The car was stuffy from the heater being too high, so he took off his suit jacket and unbuttoned the first button of his shirt to release some heat.

She stared at him without speaking.

“What’s wrong?” He leaned over to fasten her seatbelt himself. “I might come back late, so if you’re tired, go to sleep first. In the future, when I’m not home, I’ll have Aunt Liu stay with you.”

She continued to watch him silently, feeling that his attitude had subtly changed after those few hours earlier. Whether at the police station or the hospital, he seemed to want to keep her in sight at all times.

“Did Cheng Zhou confess about what happened to Deng Man?” Realizing he had been deliberately avoiding this topic, she decided to bring it up directly.

He put his phone aside, avoiding the question.

Her heart sank as she stared at him intently: “What exactly happened? Did Deng Man commit suicide or was she murdered? Was Cheng Zhou involved?”

The parking lot lights shone softly through the car window onto his profile.

After a moment of silence, he took out a voice recorder from his left pants pocket and turned to look at her: “This case is too special. Cheng Zhou’s confession can’t be transcribed, but Dr. Yu, the psychological expert who assisted the police throughout the case, was authorized to keep the suspect’s confession. When I communicated with Dr. Yu yesterday, he agreed to let me bring you some of his audio materials.”

He still seemed somewhat hesitant.

“So I can listen to it, right?” she asked, taking the recorder from his hand without waiting for permission.

He turned to look forward, no longer objecting.

Her chest felt tight as she carefully pressed the play button. After eight years of waiting for the truth, she heard a man’s voice: “She was already in chaos from the domestic violence incident. Failing the college entrance exam, and friendships falling apart—this fragile person lived in pain every day. To help her achieve the perfect ‘staged suicide,’ I made many preparations in advance.”

Jiang Chengyi had extracted three segments of the confession, totaling about 45 minutes of recordings.

Cars came and went in the parking lot.

She listened with extraordinary focus, completely forgetting the world around her.

Though she tried hard to control her emotions, toward the end, a wave of anguish swept through her chest, especially when she heard Cheng Zhou say he had watched Deng Man buy a fountain pen at the stationery store. It felt as if a huge void had collapsed in her heart, and she broke into loud sobs.

“Deng Man—”

Tears poured down her face.

She gripped the small voice recorder tightly, her knuckles turning white from the force as if she were holding Deng Man’s hand in the water from that time.

Hearing her, he felt indescribable emotions filling his chest. He turned sideways and pulled her into his arms, silently kissing the top of her head, comforting her without words.

She cried so hard she could barely breathe.

For friendship, for love, for a life lost.

Toward the end, she couldn’t even distinguish what she was crying for anymore: Deng Man, her relationship with Jiang Chengyi, or herself. She only knew she had never felt so awful before. Emotions suppressed for eight years desperately needed an outlet, and she was at a loss for any other way to release them. She soaked a large patch of his shirt with her tears, crying herself hoarse with no sign of stopping.

The car started moving, and she changed position, curling up in her seat and soaking another large patch of the backrest with her tears. But she was already addicted to crying—anger, desolation, helplessness, various emotions clogged her chest as she wailed like a trapped beast.

The car stopped, and he pulled her into his arms. Perhaps after another hour of crying, she gradually calmed down.

He unbuckled his seatbelt, got out of the car, walked around the front, and opened her door.

He led her for a while through the bustling crowds, and she recognized they were heading toward the Sichuan restaurant. She held his hand tightly, finally stopping her tears completely.

When they reached a less crowded section of the road, she suddenly said, “Jiang Chengyi, I still feel terrible.”

“What would make you feel better?” He stopped, wiped away her tears, and looked at her with infinite patience.

“Will you carry me on your back for a while?” Her eyes were swollen like walnuts, but she made her request boldly.

He looked at her, not finding her ugly at all—rather, he saw a kind of childlike innocence.

He became slightly dazed as if seeing her eighteen-year-old self, feeling inexplicably heartbroken and somewhat anxious. He turned around promptly and said, “Come on up.”

She lay against his back, letting him lift her steadily.

She hugged his shoulders, pressed against his cheek, and was overwhelmed by a strange sense of security, willing to be carried by him for a lifetime.

“Lu Yan,” after a moment of silence, he spoke, “Let’s get married.”

Everything around them seemed to quiet down.

When she realized what he’d said, her nose began to sting. She hugged his neck tightly and responded without any hesitation, her voice choked with emotion: “Yes.”

Something cool dripped onto his neck—he knew they were her tears. After walking for a while, he said softly, “If you’re going to cry, cry it all out tonight.”

“Why?” she felt inexplicably wronged, unable to stop her tears.

He turned his face slightly and said with confidence: “Because starting tomorrow, there will only be smiles, no more chances for tears.”

She froze for a good while, then forcefully turned his face and kissed him repeatedly, laughing through her tears: “Jiang Chengyi, how can you be so good?”

It’s a promise.

Just as you said.

From now on, only smiles, no more tears.