"What's wrong? Still feeling bad? Haven't you always wanted to earn merit? Now that you've really got some, why aren't you happy?"
Wang Yan propped his chin on one hand as he drove, turning his head to look at Li Dawei in the passenger seat.
"I do want to earn merit, but this kind of merit still makes me feel bad. Brother Yan, what do you think Zhao Weihong will do from now on?" Li Dawei could not help sighing. Another young man doubting himself.
"What she does now is what she'll keep doing in the future. No matter how badly you did in school, surely you know that cases involving privacy aren't tried publicly? From the investigating officers to the prosecutors, then the judges, bailiffs, and defense lawyers at trial—every single one of them is required to keep it confidential.
"What, do you think everyone in the police, procuratorate, and courts has no professional ethics or discipline? That they have to go around shouting that Zhao Weihong was raped by her own uncle and got pregnant? The People's Police, the People's Procuratorate, the People's Court—they're all just slogans, with no one actually doing any work? You're making the country's judicial system sound far too simple.
"Or look at it another way. If Zhao Zhenye and Zhao Weiguang had been killed while trying to kill Zhao Zhendong, or if Zhao Zhenye and his son had not taken revenge at all and had chosen to let things go, would we arrest Zhao Zhendong? If we arrested him, would we have to understand the case and his motive? Wouldn't we still have to learn about what happened to Zhao Weihong? Wouldn't we still have to prosecute? The nature of it would indeed be different—Zhao Zhenye killing Zhao Zhendong would get him nine