Zhou Jin couldn’t simply barge in. She held herself back and walked directly to the monitoring room adjacent to the interrogation room.

Tan Shiming and the others were all stationed in the back. The one presiding over the interrogation was the chief of the Fengzhou District Public Security Sub-bureau. As he was the senior figure dispatched from above, every decision about how to conduct the interrogation was his to make — even Tan Shiming, as team leader, couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

After Zhou Jin entered, Tan Shiming introduced her to the chief: “Director Liu, this is Zhou Jin — one of the most outstanding officers in our Major Crimes Unit. If things really aren’t working out, why not let her go in and negotiate with Jiang Cheng?”

Director Liu, whose surname was Liu, furrowed his brow, seemingly unconvinced by the suggestion. “Let’s see how things develop first,” he said.

The lights in the interrogation room were harsh and glaring. Through the one-way glass, Zhou Jin watched as two officers moved in together and seized Jiang Cheng.

His head was pinned down hard, his cheek pressed against the cold, unyielding surface of the table. His face was flushed deep red, the veins at his temples bulging, his body bent across the table in a posture of complete humiliation.

He was still wearing his hospital gown. The wound that had only just been treated appeared to have torn fully open — a spreading patch of vivid red had soaked through the fabric over his chest.

Jiang Cheng refused to accept being restrained like this. He struggled with every ounce of strength he had, but he was too weak now — he had no real force left to resist.

The officer he had punched couldn’t suppress his rage and mortification. He slapped Jiang Cheng across the face several times in quick succession and snarled: “Who the hell do you think you are, acting like you own the place? Do you know what you are right now? Until this investigation is concluded, you’re a murderer — a criminal. Is that understood?”

The other officer assigned to the interrogation had also taken a punch from Jiang Cheng. He’d rested for half an hour, but his stomach still ached with a dull, persistent throb.

He cursed inwardly — this bastard hit hard — and grabbed a fistful of Jiang Cheng’s hair, hauling him back into the chair.

Jiang Cheng shut his eyes and winced, pressing his hand over his abdomen. Zhou Jin caught the tell immediately — this was the expression Jiang Cheng only showed when he was in extreme pain.

He sat in the chair, his forehead and neck slick with sweat, the brutal, drawn-out interrogation having completely drained what remained of his strength.

Jiang Cheng tilted his head back. The fluorescent lights were too bright to look into directly. He closed his eyes for a moment, his throat working as he swallowed, and slowly his right hand reached up and pushed into his dishevelled hair.

His composure had begun to fracture — his spirit fraying at the edges.

When the officer asked him again, “Tell us clearly, from beginning to end, everything that happened after Operation Jingang,” Jiang Cheng had only one answer: “I want to see Zhou Jin.”

Zhou Jin’s palms were damp with heat. She was finding it harder and harder to hold herself back.

She stepped forward and appealed to Director Liu: “Don’t do it this way. It was based on intelligence Jiang Cheng provided that our Major Crimes Unit was able to locate that armed gang. Even though we haven’t yet established their identities — and can’t fully prove his innocence — if he genuinely wanted to stand against the police, why would he have passed that information to us in the first place? Director Liu, please — let me speak with him. Will you allow that?”

Director Liu let his gaze linger on her for a moment, then asked: “What exactly is your relationship with him? Why has he asked for you by name?”

The door to the monitoring room was pushed open by someone, producing a soft click.

But everyone’s attention was fixed on Director Liu and Zhou Jin, so no one paid much notice.

Only Yu Dan, leaning against the wall by the door, saw someone enter. She looked up for a closer look, and murmured quietly, “Professor Jiang?”

At that moment, Zhou Jin’s voice came through clearly: “I am Jiang Cheng’s fiancée.”

In that instant, Yu Dan saw with perfect clarity the way Jiang Hansheng’s figure went rigid — but he said nothing, maintaining his silence, letting that small corner of the room settle into a frozen, suspended stillness.

Yu Dan’s eyebrows shot up, and she immediately raised her voice: “Professor Jiang, you’re here?”

Director Liu was facing the direction of the door; his gaze shifted there first. When he saw it was Jiang Hansheng, a wide smile broke across his face.

Jiang Hansheng smiled in return and stepped forward to shake his hand, saying courteously, “Director Liu.”

Director Liu clapped a hand on Jiang Hansheng’s shoulder and gave him a brief embrace. “Professor Jiang, I heard some time ago that you’d come to hold down the fort at the Major Crimes Unit — so it’s true after all. My fishing rod back home is practically gathering dust waiting for you. It’s no fun without you there to join me.”

Jiang Hansheng’s voice was warm and even as he replied, “Once the school term is over, we can arrange a time.”

Director Liu knew that Jiang Hansheng was a man of his word. The reply might sound like a polite pleasantry, but he wasn’t offering an empty brush-off.

He laughed openly and said, “Then I’ll hold you to that. Perfect timing too — we can catch up on those previous cases.”

Jiang Hansheng nodded. “Of course.”

The two of them seemed quite familiar with each other, exchanging easy pleasantries back and forth.

Yu Dan and Zhao Ping were tucked into a corner together.

Yu Dan murmured quietly, “It seems Professor Jiang’s star power has reached all the way to Fengzhou.”

Zhao Ping hadn’t yet recovered from the shock of a moment ago. He turned to Yu Dan and asked, “Senior Sister Yu Dan, what’s going on between my senior sister and that Jiang Cheng? What do you mean, fiancée?”

Yu Dan quickly nudged him and told him to keep his mouth shut.

Zhou Jin was still taking in the surprise of Jiang Hansheng’s arrival. A moment later, Jiang Hansheng moved naturally to drape an arm around her shoulder, drawing her in toward him.

Jiang Hansheng said, “I haven’t introduced you yet — this is my wife, Zhou Jin.”

Director Liu’s expression immediately became rather animated. “Your wife?”

Jiang Hansheng explained with perfect composure, “We registered not long ago, though we haven’t held a wedding ceremony yet.” He glanced sideways at Zhou Jin, a faint smile on his lips, and added, “Though that won’t be long now — we’ll definitely need to invite Director Liu to attend when the time comes.”

Director Liu’s expression grew slightly stiff. He nodded quickly. “Oh, yes, of course — absolutely.”

Jiang Hansheng didn’t pursue the matter further. His hand gave Zhou Jin’s arm a light pat — as though soothing the agitation she’d been carrying.

Then he turned to Director Liu and said, “There’s something I’d like to discuss with you regarding this case.”

Director Liu agreed at once. “Of course — come have a cigarette with me. Old Tan, you come along too.”

The interrogation was suspended.

The personnel in the monitoring room dispersed to take a break.

As people filed out one by one, Yu Dan hurried over and pulled Zhou Jin into a corner, asking in a low voice, “What’s going on with you?”

Zhou Jin looked puzzled. “What do you mean, what’s going on?”

Yu Dan tilted her chin toward the direction of the interrogation room. “You and that Jiang Cheng…”

Zhou Jin said, “We were engaged once, but that was a long time ago.”

Yu Dan nearly rolled her eyes. “Could you give me the full picture? If Professor Jiang gets the wrong idea, you two are going to have quite an argument on your hands.”

Zhou Jin smiled. “You’re overthinking it. Hansheng has known about me and Jiang Cheng for a long time. He won’t mind.”

Yu Dan muttered, deeply sceptical about this claim: “Oh, really?”

Feeling curious about what Jiang Hansheng was saying to Director Liu, Zhou Jin didn’t linger to chat further with Yu Dan, and quietly slipped away to get closer.

She couldn’t get too near, so naturally she couldn’t make out the specifics of the conversation.

The three of them were standing at the window at the corner of the corridor. From her vantage point, Director Liu and Tan Shiming were out of her line of sight — all she could see was Jiang Hansheng, standing by the open window.

The window was open. A gentle breeze drifted through, brushing through his soft dark hair. His bearing was cool and clean.

A cigarette rested between his fingers, pale wisps of smoke curling languidly upward.

Zhou Jin’s brow furrowed. Since when had Jiang Hansheng taken up smoking?

Before long, Jiang Hansheng and Director Liu appeared to reach some kind of agreement. The two of them shook hands.

Director Liu then summoned someone, gave a few quiet instructions, and shortly after headed upstairs to the offices with Tan Shiming to rest.

Jiang Hansheng offered a word of thanks, then turned and walked toward the interrogation room.

Zhou Jin stepped in front of him to stop him. Seeing that he still didn’t look quite himself, she asked, “Why did you come?”

Jiang Hansheng studied Zhou Jin’s expression. After a moment, he said, “Just to check in.”

He wouldn’t ask. He wouldn’t ask why Zhou Jin, who had said she was going out to question someone before she left, had ended up here at the Major Crimes Unit.

He already knew the answer.

Jiang Cheng was her answer.

Zhou Jin asked again, “What did you just say to Director Liu — and to my mentor?”

Before Jiang Hansheng could reply, the two officers who had been conducting the interrogation walked over.

They greeted Jiang Hansheng first, speaking with ready familiarity: “Director Liu has given his instructions — we’re to cooperate fully with your work.”

Jiang Hansheng’s tone was mild and measured. “Jiang Cheng is, at present, only a suspect. Please treat him with the appropriate respect.”

The two officers had their own grievances to air, and looked rather sorry for themselves as they said, “Professor Jiang, he was the one who threw the first punch! We followed standard interrogation procedure and asked one question, and he came at us — who’s interrogating whom here, exactly?”

Jiang Hansheng showed no intent to reproach them, and simply said: “Undercover agents are conditioned to maintain a state of sustained vigilance over long periods. They become highly sensitive to the intensity of their surroundings. The lights in an interrogation room are extremely bright — that kind of brightness can very easily push their emotions to a flashpoint. Please dim them somewhat, and then shut off the surveillance equipment—”

He raised his wrist and glanced at his watch, then looked at Zhou Jin. “Zhou Jin, we have thirty minutes.”

This was the agreement he had reached with Director Liu.

Zhou Jin was taken aback. “…”

Jiang Hansheng looked at her steadily. The depths of his dark eyes held something gentle — though it was a gentleness as profound and unfathomable as an abyss.

He raised his hand and tucked a loose strand of hair back behind her ear.

“Haven’t you been worried about him all this time?” he said.