4 AM
Criminal Investigation Division, Anshan District Branch
From the first to third floors, lights blazed as the entire serious crimes unit worked overtime.
To apprehend the suspect, the highway section from S City to X Town had been blocked overnight. The suspect, Cheng Zhou, abandoned his vehicle at the Yangjiang Town rest stop parking lot. He then used a female wig previously hidden in his makeup case to disguise himself in the restroom, subsequently hitching a ride with a long-distance truck driver, departing the rest stop disguised as a woman.
Due to the high traffic volume at the rest stop and poorer nighttime lighting compared to daytime, it took police several additional minutes to spot the female passenger suspected to be Cheng Zhou in the surveillance footage.
After two more hours of continuous pursuit, Jiang Chengyi finally intercepted the suspect at a highway exit just as Cheng Zhou attempted to employ the same trick again.
Now the suspect was confined to the interrogation room.
Reporters crowded outside the police station, while Zheng Xiaowen’s millions of followers provided real-time updates on Weibo, countless eyes fixed on the case’s latest developments.
From the bureau chief down to newly graduated officers, everyone at the Anshan District Branch awaited the next phase of interrogation.
The social impact of celebrity influence was unpredictable. If Zheng Xiaowen was still alive but met with an accident due to delayed police rescue, the resulting public pressure on law enforcement would be immense.
In other words, the arrest was merely the first step—quickly discovering Wen Peng and Zheng Xiaowen’s whereabouts was crucial.
They had found Wen Peng’s car in an alley near his home. According to surveillance footage, Wen Peng and Zheng Xiaowen had parked there and exited the vehicle. Their last appearance on camera was at 6:50 AM, but unfortunately, that area had surveillance blind spots, making it impossible to track their subsequent movements. Searches of several artificial lakes in and around the city had yielded no results so far.
Jiang Chengyi splashed water on his face at the tap, using the cold to drive away some fatigue. Upon returning, he took a sip of coffee Xiao Zhou had made before saying, “Cheng Zhou’s psychology is abnormal. I suspect he won’t readily confess his crimes. We need to carefully consider how to proceed with the interrogation. Everyone, pool your wisdom—all ideas are welcome.”
Old Liu, one of the division’s more experienced officers with years of criminal investigation expertise and rich interrogation experience, noticed both Jiang Chengyi and Old Qin’s extreme fatigue after several hours of pursuit. He volunteered, “Captain Jiang, let me tackle this tough nut.”
Just then, Old Qin escorted Dr. Yu in.
Hearing this, Yu Zheng politely intervened: “Officer Liu, Zheng Xiaowen is the final victim in Cheng Zhou’s series of crimes. Given his criminal style, even while imprisoned, he’ll insist on concluding this case according to his design. I have a feeling that without psychological tactics, the interrogation will be extremely difficult. Allow me to make two presumptuous requests: 1. To quickly find a breakthrough with the perpetrator, the interrogation process will differ from standard procedures, so I hope that Captain Jiang and I can lead the interrogation strategy. 2. Limit the interrogation room to five people or fewer.”
After a few seconds’ consideration, the bureau chief approved.
Jiang Chengyi said, “Dr. Yu, Old Liu, and I will interrogate the suspect, with Xiao Zhou taking notes.”
On the way to the underground interrogation room, Xiao Zhou recalled the voice recorder incident and was quite puzzled. He wanted to ask Jiang Chengyi but, noting his poor mood, turned to Yu Zheng instead: “Dr. Yu if Wen Peng was purely a victim, how did Cheng Zhou get him to willingly record that audio?”
Yu Zheng smiled: “Xiao Zhou, would you like to play a game?”
“A game?”
Yu Zheng held a stack of cards, handing them to Xiao Zhou as they walked: “If you can recite the text on these cards word for word within three minutes, I’ll give you a copy of my criminal psychology analysis cases from the past year. Of course, all names in these materials have been anonymized.”
Xiao Zhou had long hoped to learn from Yu Zheng, and hearing this, he was overjoyed: “That’s great!”
He took the cards and recited the first card’s line: “VICAP cannot be used to request criminal profiling assessment.”
Second card.
Third card.
At the tenth card, Yu Zheng reminded him: “There are forty cards left, but the game ends in one minute.”
Xiao Zhou’s scalp tightened, and he had no time to carefully read the cards’ contents, relying purely on instinct to recite at maximum speed.
As he reached the second-to-last card, Yu Zheng stopped his phone’s timer: “Time’s up.”
Xiao Zhou sighed dejectedly: “I knew this game wouldn’t be so simple.”
Yu Zheng smiled kindly: “Although you failed, don’t worry, Xiao Zhou. I’ll share some psychological analysis cases with you, but only for your study—no sharing. Now, listen to this recording and tell me if this is your voice.”
He took out a voice recorder from his pocket and pressed play. After a few seconds, Xiao Zhou’s voice emerged: “I don’t want to be a police officer.”
Xiao Zhou was stunned: “When was this recorded?” That line hadn’t been on any of the cards.
“It was recorded when I interrupted you and reminded you about the time running out. This is a very simple psychological trick, but playing this game requires four prerequisites: First, my offered incentive must be extremely tempting, enough to quickly spark your competitive spirit. Second, I must know when to interrupt and further intensify my sense of urgency, creating an opportunity to insert the recording. Third, and most importantly, you must trust me completely. Fourth, I need extensive practice beforehand.”
Xiao Zhou flipped back through the cards, seeing that one read “I don’t want to be a JING CHA.”
Old Liu turned back: “Cheng Zhou must have planned to use Wen Peng as a scapegoat all along, otherwise how could he have designed every step in advance?”
Approaching the interrogation room, Yu Zheng unconsciously accelerated his speech: “Looking at Cheng Zhou’s college entrance exam results, he wasn’t just a prodigy in art—his cultural subject scores far exceeded other art students. After university graduation, he mastered impressive makeup techniques in just three months, successfully changing careers and becoming instantly famous in the industry. This shows his extraordinary learning ability. Never underestimate any criminal—Cheng Zhou is one of the highest-IQ criminals I’ve encountered in recent years.”
A colleague opened the interrogation room door, and the group entered.
The room’s cold LED lights were on. Cheng Zhou’s makeup and wig had been removed, revealing a clean, bare face that made him appear even more childlike. As per Yu Zheng’s request, he was connected to a monitoring device that recorded every fluctuation in his heart rate and blood pressure.
His face showed none of the typical anxiety or dejection common to ordinary criminals. Instead, he was resting with closed eyes, but upon hearing footsteps behind him, he immediately turned to look at Jiang Chengyi, then smiled with almost childlike innocence, like a child seeing a favorite toy.
Jiang Chengyi showed no reaction to Cheng Zhou’s caressing gaze. He pulled out a chair, sat down, tossed the case file on the table, and then leaned back, staring directly at Cheng Zhou.
Xiao Zhou’s psychological fortitude was far inferior to Jiang Chengyi’s—catching Cheng Zhou’s expression gave him goosebumps.
Jiang Chengyi replayed Wen Peng’s recorded message, breaking the interrogation room’s silence: “Cheng Zhou, you used Wen Peng to set a 24-hour deadline for the police. Is this your way of playing one final game with law enforcement?”
Due to a subtle psychological discomfort, Jiang Chengyi deliberately used “law enforcement” instead of his own name. This seemed to displease Cheng Zhou, who pouted slightly, looking unhappily at Jiang Chengyi.
Yu Zheng carefully caught each of Cheng Zhou’s subtle expressions, observing for a while before checking his watch and smiling: “It’s now 4:50 AM. Twenty-two hours have passed since Wen Peng and Zheng Xiaowen disappeared. I guess they’re both still alive, but Zheng Xiaowen, as your final prey, will die according to your predetermined ritual within two hours, correct?”
Only then did Cheng Zhou properly look at Yu Zheng. Seeing he was a short, stout man, he quickly averted his eyes in disgust, denying: “I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Today I just played a joke with my assistant Xiao Wei. I have no idea why you brought me here. You’re all bullying me, just like Captain Jiang.”
This time, not just Xiao Zhou but even Old Liu felt their spines crawl with disgust.
Yu Zheng very calmly glanced at the monitoring device beside Cheng Zhou: “Half an hour ago, your heart rate fluctuated between 68-75 beats per minute, blood pressure between 112-120/65-75. But when you heard there were two hours left, your heart rate spiked to 107—this indicates sympathetic nervous system excitement—”
Cheng Zhou looked at Yu Zheng without any ripple of emotion.
“You pursue the thrill of controlling life as time slips away. The closer it gets to your set time, the more excited you become. In other words, we have only two hours left to save these two victims’ lives. If you had killed them beforehand, that recording you left would be meaningless. Only if the victims are still alive can you experience the excitement of competing with Captain Jiang. Cheng Zhou, you’ve known Captain Jiang for many years, and challenging him gives you unprecedented satisfaction, isn’t that right?”
Cheng Zhou pressed his tongue against his cheek inside his mouth, looking at Jiang Chengyi very flippantly, but remaining silent.
Just then, Jiang Chengyi received a WeChat message. Opening it, he read: “Captain, we’ve searched all artificial lakes in and around the city with no findings. We’ve also checked all properties belonging to Cheng Zhou, Zheng Xiaowen, and Wen Peng, including relatives’ and friends’ homes—no sign of the two anywhere. In other words: no trace of them, dead or alive.”
Jiang Chengyi put down his phone and checked the time—5 AM, one hour and fifty minutes left. Trying not to reveal his anxiety, he simply opened the case file, staring at a photo of a woman, saying coolly: “Why don’t we start with your mother, Li Xiaolan?”
Hearing these three words, Cheng Zhou’s dark pupils remained unchanged.
But Jiang Chengyi exchanged a glance with Yu Zheng, removed the woman’s photo from the file, placed it on the whiteboard, and turned on the LED light.