Liu Fei looked across at the man who had sat down opposite him and swallowed hard.

The officer from earlier had been fierce enough, but compared to the man before him now, that one seemed practically warm and approachable.

Some people did not need to shout. They simply had to sit there, upright and composed, and a crushing pressure descended of its own accord.

Under that weight, a faint sweat began to bead on Liu Fei’s brow. The hand without the handcuff had nearly worn through his trouser leg.

“Do you smoke?” Shi Ting asked in a mild tone.

“I — no…” Liu Fei seemed about to refuse, but under the man’s steady gaze, he quickly changed his answer. “Sometimes.”

Shi Ting opened his cigarette case, drew out a cigarette, and handed it across along with a metal lighter.

Liu Fei reached for them with a slightly trembling hand, fumbling somewhat as he brought the cigarette to his lips, flicked the lighter, and lit it.

After two deep drags, Liu Fei’s nerves seemed to settle noticeably, and even his voice steadied.

“Officer, sir, I truly did not kill anyone. I’m not even brave enough to slaughter a chicken, let alone a person —”

“All right, you can go.” Shi Ting rose, went to the door, and called Bai Jin over. “Release him. He is not the perpetrator.”

Bai Jin stared. “Release him? After one cigarette?”

“Liu Fei is indeed not the perpetrator.” The response came from Yan Qing, seated in her wheelchair. “The perpetrator has an injury or disability in one hand, so during the dismemberment, he was forced to use his non-dominant hand. Huo Li was killed around the third or fourth of April — just four days ago. If the perpetrator had serious trauma to one hand, four days would not be enough for it to heal.”

“What if it’s a permanent disability?”

“Director Shi has already confirmed it.” Yan Qing glanced toward Shi Ting and offered a quiet smile. “Correct?”

Bai Jin finally understood. “So Seventh Brother gave him the cigarette to test him.”

Shi Ting nodded. “Liu Fei reached for the cigarette with his right hand — his dominant hand. And the left hand he used to operate the lighter moved freely and naturally, with no signs of past injury or disability. Therefore, he is not the perpetrator.”

The conclusion convinced Bai Jin, but left him looking rather deflated. “I thought we had our man in Liu Fei. Now we’re back to searching for new leads.”

“Shu Shi just called in. There’s a new development.” Shi Ting’s expression grew serious. “It seems we are not far from the real killer.”

Zheng Yun’s discovery traced back to Dr. Rosen, the foreign physician at the clinic.

Even while the Military Police Directorate had been questioning Liu Fei, Zheng Yun — trusting his years of experience — had not believed Liu Fei was the killer.

With his characteristically careful mind, Zheng Yun had returned to Rosen’s Clinic to learn more from the doctor directly.

In the course of their casual conversation, he came across an extremely useful piece of information.

According to Dr. Rosen’s recollection, more than two months earlier — around the end of January — a man had come to the clinic looking for work. His name was Wang Yu.

Wang Yu had formerly been a physician at a hospital in Shun Cheng, but during a surgery, he accidentally severed the tendons of his own hand, leaving his right hand permanently disabled.

After treatment, Wang Yu’s tendons were repaired, but he could no longer hold a scalpel. The hospital, unwilling to keep a man they considered useless, found a pretext to dismiss him. Wang Yu had argued and made his case, but the institution was powerful, and in the end he was forced to relent.

Wang Yu was known for his extravagant lifestyle — he frequented the finest dance halls and spent lavishly on dancing girls who caught his eye. Once he lost his medical position, his income immediately failed to meet his expenditures, and he could barely afford to eat.

With no other option, Wang Yu sought work elsewhere. But because of his disability, no hospital would take him. He was forced to lower his sights and turn to private clinics — still, none would hire him either. In the end, it was Dr. Rosen who took pity on him and brought him on to do small, less demanding tasks around the clinic.

Zheng Yun noted that Wang Yu had joined the clinic at the end of January — and that the victim, Huo Li, had undergone her surgery in February. He asked, “Were Wang Yu and Huo Li acquainted?”

—