The bathroom at Zheng Shuiyu’s home was only palm-sized, and water was used sparingly. Who knows if it was rationed daily, but the water pressure was always minimal. Every time after taking a shower, it felt like drought-stricken ground with only its surface moistened—the whole body uncomfortable.

So, this was probably the most comfortable shower she had taken in days—ample water and scalding hot temperature.

After drying her body and coming out, she first tore open the packaging and put on the underwear, then shook out Luo Ren’s clothes to examine them. They were neither new nor old, with neat fold marks. Bringing them closer, she could still smell the distinctive scent of clean clothes.

Comparing the size, they were truly large—the sleeves extended far beyond her arms. She put them on over her head, looking like she was wrapped in a sack.

She lowered her head, rolling up the sleeves and trouser legs several times before opening the door to go out.

Walking to the table and sitting down, the chopsticks were right beside her. Mu Dai hesitated, feeling that as a guest, she should wait for Luo Ren to say something before starting.

Unexpectedly, Luo Ren first handed over his notebook computer, saying, “Read this first.”

Mu Dai took it, pressing the screen down slightly.

Two open web pages, two articles, both about AIDS—covering principles, symptoms, incubation periods, transmission routes, and so on.

Her finger slid across the touchscreen, flipping through the pages one by one, droplets of water from her hair falling onto the shiny keys.

After finishing, she handed the computer back. Luo Ren took it and set it aside, saying, “Today I asked around. The central hospital can do antibody tests. If you’re worried, I can find time to draw your blood and send it in for testing… Let’s eat first.”

Mu Dai ate silently. People are strange—when hunger has passed its peak, you don’t feel hungry even without eating. But once you start putting food in your stomach, you get hungrier the more you eat.

Midway through, Luo Ren opened some alcohol. Mu Dai grabbed a can of beer herself and gulped down half of it in one go.

They say long meals always have one or two stopping points—commonly known as “eat until tired, rest a bit, then continue.”

This half can of beer marked the first stopping point. Mu Dai put the beer back on the table, set down her chopsticks, and after a moment of silence asked: “Is everyone doing well?”

“Quite well.”

“Phoenix Tower… has it opened?”

“Yes. It rained heavily that day, not a single table of customers. Fat Cao nearly cried.”

Mu Dai wanted to smile, but the smile appeared and then quickly disappeared. She felt that many troublesome matters were like vigilant faces watching her from the side, saying: How can you still smile!

She asked again: “What about the murder script? It should be the fourth one now, right? Is there any guidance from the Phoenix Luan Button?”

Luo Ren said, “No one cares about the murder script.”

This was true. Everyone was naturally becoming slack, feeling that the murder script affair was vague, baseless, harmless, not urgent, unprofitable, and unpredictably dangerous.

To do something, one needs either motivation or drive, and they had neither. Shen Gun’s description was accurate—they were like donkeys pulling a millstone. Without a severe whipping or a real sense of loss, none wanted to move. The “Phoenix Special Squad” formed out of novelty and curiosity in Yan Hongsha, after the initial burst of enthusiasm, now seemed ready to disband.

Moreover, there were now more pressing matters.

Luo Ren finally got to the main point: “Why did you run?”

Mu Dai didn’t answer. After a while, she picked up the beer and took another big gulp.

“It was a rash decision. Seeing the open window, I thought I could escape, so I ran.”

Luo Ren said, “Initially, you were very cooperative with the investigation. If you wanted to run, it would have been easier to do so from the restaurant. There was no need to wait until you were at the police station.”

“Mu Dai, you were scared, weren’t you?”

Mu Dai didn’t speak. After a while, she pushed away the bowls and containers in front of her, rested her arms on the table, hung her head, and covered her face with both hands.

Luo Ren heard her sniffling, her nose tip turning red, gently biting her lip, but she didn’t remove her hands.

She wasn’t crying freely as she used to before.

Luo Ren pushed the tissue box toward her, saying, “Don’t panic. Any problem can be solved.”

Mu Dai didn’t look at him, still keeping her head down. She reached for a tissue, roughly wiped her face, then crumpled it and threw it into the trash bin.

“There’s an eyewitness. At first, I told them that the incident happened late at night—it was so late, Ma Chao might have been mistaken. Later, I learned that during their recording of statements, a second witness had looked at me through the glass and also identified me.”

As she spoke, she reached for the beer again. The can was almost empty, feeling very light when lifted, making a swishing sound when shaken, so she had to put it back down.

There was still white liquor, but Luo Ren wasn’t opening it for her yet.

He asked again: “So what are you afraid of?”

Mu Dai kept her head down, saying: “That night, I slept very well, didn’t even have a dream, very deeply. So, even I’m not sure…”

Luo Ren continued her thought: “You’re afraid that after falling asleep, in an unconscious state, you might have gotten up and gone out?”

Mu Dai said, “Because I have a history of this. Dr. He said I have a personality disorder. Sometimes I don’t even know the things I’ve done myself.”

“So, you’ve already convicted yourself, is that it?”

Mu Dai neither admitted nor denied.

She thought: There are two witnesses.

One called Ma Chao, Zhang Tong’s hooligan classmate, and one called Song Tie, an employee of a hardware company. The two didn’t know each other.

Two witnesses, testimonies corroborating each other, both seeing her that night, even accurately describing the clothes she was wearing.

Luo Ren smiled: “Mu Dai, let me teach you a saying: One won’t stop until reaching the Yellow River; one won’t shed tears until seeing the coffin.”

Mu Dai looked up at him: “What does that mean?”

“Don’t think of yourself as a criminal. With preconceptions, you’ll overlook many important details. I came later, so I can’t know the specifics. What happened that day depends on your analysis and recollection.”

He took out the bottle of white liquor, not even using a bottle opener—just tapped the cap off on the table corner. He took some disposable cups, poured about ten half-cups, and then took out his phone, setting it to a stopwatch.

“Let’s play a game. Now you defend yourself. Imagine you’ve been framed, and you need to try your best to exonerate yourself, giving convincing reasons. Two minutes per point. When time’s up, if you can’t think of anything, you drink. If you can’t think of a single point, then you were indeed the killer.”

He pressed start, the 2-minute countdown began, and the numbers started changing frantically.

Mu Dai took a while to digest his words, feeling inexplicably nervous. Her gaze met Luo Ren’s—his expression was serious as he urged her: “Hurry!”

Even his tone intensified her sense of urgency.

Mu Dai’s lips went dry. Her hands fidgeted together as her mind raced, but she couldn’t sort out her thoughts.

Defend herself, give convincing reasons, convincing reasons…

A cup of liquor was placed in front of her. Was time already up?

Luo Ren said, “Drink.”

She had no choice but to take it and down it in one gulp. Unlike beer, white liquor burned down, making her eyes sting.

2 minutes, countdown again.

Convincing reasons, she needed convincing reasons. What reasons did she have? The other side had two witnesses. The police said the two didn’t know each other, so there was no possibility of collusion. Besides, those two people didn’t know her either, had no grudges against her—what reason would they have to frame her?

Her thoughts were scattered until another cup of liquor was pushed in front of her: “Drink it.”

She had to drink it. When she looked up at Luo Ren, he showed no expression, saying, “If you can’t think of anything, then it was you.”

Whether it was the alcohol or resentment, Mu Dai felt Luo Ren was particularly unsympathetic.

She said, “It wasn’t me.”

“Many people brought to court in ancient times said it wasn’t them, but after a beating with wooden planks, they all pressed their fingerprints to confess.”

Press your mother’s fingerprints!

Mu Dai slammed her palm on the table: “I said it wasn’t me!”

She hit it too hard, knocking over a dish of mixed vegetables. The sauce splashed onto Luo Ren, who frowned and looked down.

Mu Dai felt wronged: “I don’t have the kind of alternate personality that runs outside at night. No matter whether Dr. He says I have two or three personalities, I’ve been adjusting all along. I’ve kept them all suppressed. I’m not sick. I wouldn’t go out in the middle of the night to kill someone.”

As she finished speaking, the stopwatch reached its time limit again.

Angrily, she reached for the alcohol herself, but just as she was about to touch it, Luo Ren was quicker and moved it away.

He said, “That counts as one point.”

Then he pointed to the stain on his clothes: “You’re responsible for washing this.”

Before Mu Dai could express her opinion, the 2-minute countdown started again.

This time, she tried hard to stay calm, furrowing her brow in thought.

“I barely know Zhang Tong. I have no reason to kill him, no grudge, no motive. Even if we go back to what Dr. He said about Mu Dai No. 2, she only appears when my life is in danger. Zhang Tong was just an ordinary student—he couldn’t even beat me in a fight. He couldn’t possibly threaten me.”

Luo Ren nodded: “This point has some substance.”

“But you could have split it into two points. Why did you say it all in one go? Countdown, think of something new.”

Mu Dai was stumped by him, her mind turning to mush. The two minutes passed in a flash, and she had to drink another cup.

She really couldn’t think of anything more.

Luo Ren asked: “Are you sure you have nothing else?”

She nodded, certain.

“If I come up with something, will you drink?”

“I will.”

Luo Ren thought for a moment: “Ma Chao and Song Tie, although preliminary investigation says they don’t know each other, many times there are hidden relationships or intersections that outsiders don’t know about. Many things that are easily concluded as absolute are often the most likely to be not absolute.”

Mu Dai had no rebuttal and drank.

“With Zhang Tong, we can also start investigating. If he had enemies, and if an enemy committed the crime and framed someone else, they wouldn’t implicate someone with no connection. Have you ever appeared or interacted with Zhang Tong at the same time, been seen by that person, giving them an opportunity?”

Mu Dai had to drink again, sipping slowly in small gulps.

Luo Ren looked at her: “Drunk?”

She shook her head: “A little dizzy.”

“I know you can hold your liquor. Uncle Zhang said you drink alcohol like it’s a beverage. A little dizzy is good—suitable for sleeping.”

Oh, sleeping.

Mu Dai stood up, found a hair tie to put up her hair, rinsed her mouth, washed her face, and then came back with unsteady steps.

Not drunk, but a bit tipsy.

She circled between the bed and the sofa, swaying: “Where do I sleep?”

Luo Ren pointed to the bed. She made a sound of acknowledgment, her sense of direction seemingly off as she turned in another circle.

Luo Ren said, “Are you a spinning top?”

He pushed her by the shoulders, bringing her to the bed. Mu Dai kicked off her shoes and climbed onto the bed, not sticking to the edges or the head, but lying diagonally across. She grabbed a pillow with one hand to prop under her head, then pulled up the blanket.

Luo Ren looked at her: “Back at the police station, would you run again?”

She stared at the ceiling, mumbling: “I should have analyzed it with them. Running wasn’t good—it made me look guilty.”

“Do you still think you killed someone, that you’re guilty?”

Mu Dai closed her eyes and pulled at the blanket again: “I must have been framed.”

She turned over, sighed, and murmured: “Need to sleep early, still have to wash clothes tomorrow.”

It took Luo Ren a moment to realize she was referring to washing his clothes as he had instructed.

He tidied up the mess of cups and plates on the table, went to the bathroom, and took a cold shower—the water was no longer hot, a literal “cold rinse.”

Turning off the light, Luo Ren slowly lay down on the sofa.

In the darkness, he held his breath, listening to Mu Dai’s breathing.

Even, long, gentle—she was asleep.

A smile appeared at the corners of Luo Ren’s lips.

Full of food, enough to drink, and with fewer worries on her mind, she should be able to get a good night’s sleep now.