The examination paper crumpled in Jing Lan’s hands. A flash of madness crossed her eyes, but quickly settled into calm. “And what does this prove? I was merely curious.” She smiled, but the smile never reached her eyes — it held a trace of cruelty that made the half of her face covered in blue-green birthmark look rather sinister.

Yan Qing had never seen Jing Lan like this. In her eyes, she had always been kind, gentle, and considerate.

“Your actions just now cannot prove anything, nor can they be used as evidence. But once you are named the prime suspect, every investigation will revolve around you. There is no such thing as a perfect crime. No matter how flawlessly you think you’ve executed things, you cannot escape justice’s reach.”

Jing Lan seemed provoked. She stepped forward, closing in on Yan Qing, her voice trembling. “Yan Qing, you’re my best friend. Why are you doing this? Why are you pushing me toward a dead end?”

“It’s not her who’s pushing you.” Someone pulled Yan Qing’s wheelchair back a few paces, and a tall, upright figure stepped in front of her.

He was dressed in a Jinlin Guard uniform, the insignia on his shoulder striking and bright in the sunlight.

He stood like a towering mountain peak, shielding her from wind and rain, sheltering her beneath a canopy of shade.

Looking at the person who had so completely blocked her from harm, Yan Qing experienced for the first time the warmth of being protected.

“The Jinlin Guard now has sufficient grounds to suspect you are connected to the deaths of Leng Yu, Fan Dongping, Luo Baimi, and Qiao Guang. Please come with us to the Jinlin Guard headquarters for questioning.” Shi Ting’s words were cold and piercing, his gaze intense.

Beneath her outburst, Jing Lan returned to her former composure. She smiled faintly. “Very well.”

As she passed by Yan Qing, she couldn’t help but look at her deeply — a complex look that flashed past in an instant.

Yan Qing turned her wheelchair to the side and watched as Jing Lan was escorted out of the classroom by the Jinlin Guard officers, a heaviness in her heart that she couldn’t quite put into words.

“If she is not the killer, the Jinlin Guard will not wrongfully punish an innocent person.” The low, steady voice in that moment sounded like a chant — capable of cleansing the soul and soothing unease.

But Yan Qing had worked as a forensic examiner for so long, having seen countless cases big and small, and criminals of every kind. She knew that Jing Lan was not innocent.

All that was missing to convict her was evidence.

Seeing her emotions settle somewhat, Shi Ting said, “Zheng Yun checked Jing Lan’s school records. The address she listed is false. You’ve spent the most time with Jing Lan — do you have any leads?”

If Jing Lan truly was the killer, this was to be expected. Criminals do not willingly expose their hiding places. That was the shell in which they concealed themselves — impenetrable, known to no one.

Yan Qing took a deep breath and worked to search her memory.

Since arriving in this era, her contact with Jing Lan had not been frequent. Yet Jing Lan had been the person in this school who had given her the most warmth and help. Combined with the emotional thread left behind by the body’s previous owner, she had grown to feel deep reluctance and sorrow toward Jing Lan.

As for whether Jing Lan had ever let slip any useful information — she would need to sift carefully through her earlier memories.

Perhaps because she was concentrating so hard, her temples began to throb, and her head was suddenly seized with a pain like tearing.

Yan Qing couldn’t suppress it — she pressed her hands against her head and let out a soft cry.

“What’s wrong?” Shi Ting quickly crouched down, his hands instinctively steadying her arms. “Yan Qing, what is it?”

—