As Xu Demin explained, the interrogator's cold gaze gradually softened.
But he did not stop questioning him. Instead, he picked up the pace, firing one pointed question after another.
"Why were you so eager to speak with the hospital staff?"
"Why did you go to the scene that day?"
"Your roommate said you're usually back at the dormitory resting by then. Why were you late that day?"
"Why did you eat so slowly that day? Did you know something in advance?"
"You usually get two dishes. Why did you get three that day? Was it deliberate?"
"The cafeteria staff said you never drink soup. Why did you queue for soup that day?"
"Does your immediate superior treat you well?"
"Has he ever asked you to help him with anything?"
"Have you used your good relationship with him to gain some kind of benefit?"
"Did you study explosives at school?"
"Several older colleagues at your workplace said you were interested in learning about the mining area. You even studied blasting and extraction. Why did you make a point of learning about that?"
"Why did you try to stop the hospital staff?"
"Why were there books about explosives in your dormitory?"
"How did you bribe your superior into giving you the mining area plans?"
"Were you delaying your return to the dormitory that day so you could carry out your plan?"
"What are you really after?"
"..."
By the end of the interrogation, Xu Demin realized he had gone completely numb. He had become a machine that could do nothing but answer questions.
Like the ore sorters at the processing plant: someone dumped ore in, and the machine ran, sorting out what was needed. He had lost the ability to think and was operating on instinct, following a set program.
There was