Interrogation

The interrogation room of the Municipal Public Security Bureau's Criminal Investigation Detachment is perpetually filled with a complex odor, a mixture of disinfectant, stale tobacco, and human sweat. This smell seeps into the walls and crevices of the tables, becoming an invisible backdrop to the pressure and confrontation.

Veteran detective Wang Yong pushed open the heavy iron door, bringing with him a cool, slightly stale scent that hadn't yet been assimilated by the stuffy air inside. He had spent most of his life working in this room, familiar with every corner, including the barely audible buzzing of the pale fluorescent light overhead when it was working.

Behind him followed his apprentice, Li Zhen, a greenhorn who had just graduated from police academy two years prior. He was full of energy, and his eyes still held a sharpness that hadn't been dulled by the complexities of paperwork and human nature. At this moment, however, that sharpness contained more of an uncontrollable rage and a hint of barely perceptible excitement—after all, driving a car into a police officer in front of the city bureau, and involving Zhang Qian, who was already in the eye of the storm, was a case that was too big and too heinous.

The two men sat down behind the interrogation table, the metal chair legs scraping against the concrete floor with a screeching sound.

Across the table, handcuffed to a specially made interrogation chair, was the driver who had caused this whole commotion.

Feng Jianguo.

Wang Yong's gaze was like two brushes, silently scanning the man opposite him from head to toe.

It's too ordinary.

He was the kind of person you'd easily lose in a crowd. He looked to be in his mid-forties, perhaps even older. His hair was thinning, streaked with gray, and haphazardly combed, hardly a style. He wore a faded, slightly loose-fitting dark blue jacket over an old gray sweater, black trousers of unidentifiable brand, and work boots with dried mud stains on the soles.

His complexion was an unhealthy pallor, not the kind of white that comes from being deprived of sunlight, but more like the appearance of some internal ailment or insufficient blood and energy. He had heavy eye bags, and his lips were pale, dry, and chapped. The knuckles of his fingers, resting on the armrest of the chair, were large, and there were still some black stains, like engine oil, under his nails that he hadn't completely washed off.

He looked like a low-level laborer struggling to make a living, with poor health. He was tired, numb, and even a little frail.

Could such a person be the ruthless and premeditated perpetrator who precisely rammed a former police officer with his car in full view of the city police station? Wang Yong had a question mark in his mind, but his face remained calm. Having worked in this line of work for a long time, he knew that appearances can be deceiving. The more impossible something seems, the more likely it is to hide a shocking truth.

Li Zhen clearly lacked his master's composure. He stared at Feng Jianguo, his eyes blazing with anger. This was the man who had caused Sister Zhang's injuries! Although Zhang Qian had been suspended from duty due to issues in her previous case, she was still a police officer! It was an internal matter! It was not up to an outsider to "enforce justice" in this way!

"Name," Wang Yong began, his voice steady, with a mechanical coldness that broke the silence of the interrogation room. He pressed the recording device on the table, and the red indicator light illuminated.

Feng Jianguo raised his eyelids, his eyes lacking any sparkle, as if veiled by a thin layer of gray. "Feng Jianguo." His voice was somewhat hoarse, but calm.

"Gender."

"Male."

"Age."

Forty-six.

Home address.

"North City District, Jianshe Road, Old Bearing Factory Residential Compound, Building 3, Unit 2, Room 401." Feng Jianguo answered fluently and without hesitation, his cooperation impeccable.

While taking notes, Wang Yong continued to ask for basic information, such as his workplace (no fixed job, occasionally doing odd jobs), family members (divorced, has one daughter), etc. Feng Jianguo answered them one by one, in a flat tone, as if he were talking about someone else's affairs.

Everything seemed like the start of a perfectly normal interrogation.

But Wang Yong's heart sank. He was too cooperative, too calm. An ordinary person entering such a place, facing police questioning, would feel somewhat nervous and flustered. Even seasoned veterans would subconsciously make small movements, their eyes would flicker, and they would ponder how to answer. But Feng Jianguo didn't. He was like a stagnant pool; whatever was asked, a ripple would appear, then quickly return to calm. This calmness was abnormal.

The basic information inquiry was over. Wang Yong put down his pen, leaned forward slightly, and sharply locked his gaze into Feng Jianguo's eyes, moving on to the core question.

Do you know why you were brought in here?

"I know." Feng Jianguo nodded. "He hit someone with his car."

Who did you hit?

"Zhang Qian used to be a police officer." He even knew Zhang Qian's identity before she was suspended from duty.

"Why did you hit her?" Wang Yong's voice was lowered, carrying a sense of pressure.

The air in the interrogation room seemed to freeze. Li Zhen held his breath, staring intently at Feng Jianguo's mouth.

Feng Jianguo was silent for a few seconds, not out of hesitation, but more like he was organizing his thoughts, or perhaps savoring something. Then, he raised his dull eyes, looked at Wang Yong, and then seemingly casually glanced at Li Zhen, who stood beside him with a tense expression, before uttering a few words in a low voice:

"I think... it's probably for the sake of fairness."

"Bang!"

Li Zhen slammed his hand on the table and stood up abruptly! The solid wood interrogation table thudded as he struck it. He was young and hot-blooded, and couldn't hold back any longer.

"For fairness?!" His voice trembled with agitation. "You fucking hit someone with your car for fairness?! What kind of bullshit logic is that! Tell me! Who ordered you to do this?! Is someone holding a grudge and ordering you to retaliate against Officer Zhang?!"

He practically roared it out, his chest heaving violently. Zhang Qian and he saw each other all the time; they had a good relationship. And the fact that the other party dared to commit violence in front of the police station made him exceptionally angry.

Wang Yong's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. He cursed inwardly, "You little brat, you can't hold your temper!" Such leading questions are a major taboo in interrogation; they easily give the other party leverage and could even lead to legal flaws in the obtained confession.

Under the table, Wang Yong swiftly and discreetly kicked Li Zhen's shin. The force was considerable.

Li Zhen winced in pain, his words abruptly cut off, and he looked at his master in astonishment.

Wang Yong remained expressionless, as if nothing had happened. He smoothly took over the conversation, his gaze returning to Feng Jianguo, his tone regaining its previous calmness, but now sounding more profound:

"Feng Jianguo, don't harbor any illusions. Many people present at the time can testify that you hit the person first, and then got out of the car and drank that bottle of liquor. The sequence of events is very clear. Moreover, we drew your blood on the spot, and the blood alcohol concentration will be clearly shown in the report. You were sober when you hit the person with the car."

He presented the known facts, attempting to exert pressure with a chain of evidence, while also cleverly covering up any potential loopholes caused by Li Zhen's impulsive question.

However, Feng Jianguo seemed unconcerned about Wang Yong's well-reasoned argument. He didn't even look at Wang Yong, who was speaking; his lifeless eyes remained fixed on Li Zhen, the young detective who had just sat down and whose face still showed resentment and a hint of grievance.

Being stared at by such an ordinary yet eerie person made Li Zhen feel uneasy. The gaze was not aggressive, but it sent chills down his spine.

In the oppressive silence, Feng Jianguo's bloodless lips suddenly twitched slightly upwards, forming an extremely faint, almost illusory smile.

Then he chuckled softly. The laugh was low, dry, and carried an indescribable mockery, echoing jarringly in the closed interrogation room.

The laughter stopped. He looked at Li Zhen, his tone calm, yet each word clear and distinct, like cold nails hammering into the eardrums of the two men present:

"Young man, your understanding of legal provisions... is not quite solid."

He paused, seemingly giving Li Zhen time to process what he had said, before slowly continuing in an almost pitying tone:

"In my case, if I am ultimately sentenced to death... then, according to procedure, the entire interrogation process, including audio and video recordings, as well as all physical evidence and expert reports, must be compiled into a case file and submitted to the Supreme People's Procuratorate for final review."

His gaze swept over the recording equipment on the table, its red light flashing, before returning to Li Zhen's face, which had suddenly turned somewhat pale.

"You just asked me... 'Was someone instructing you...'" Feng Jianguo repeated Li Zhen's exact words, emphasizing each syllable, then gently shook his head. "Legally, that's called inducing a confession. Although you added 'Quickly confess the real reason' to try and salvage the situation, the intention to induce is already very clear."

Li Zhen's breath hitched, and a fine layer of cold sweat instantly broke out on his forehead. He opened his mouth, wanting to retort, but found his throat dry and unable to utter a single word. He looked at his master, Wang Yong, for help, only to find that Wang Yong's expression had also become unusually solemn.

Feng Jianguo took in the young detective's reaction. A glint of something unreadable flashed in his dull eyes, and his final words even carried a hint of... "forgiveness"?

"However," he uttered softly, as if making a concluding remark, "Young man, you are very lucky."

He slightly raised his head, his gaze seemingly piercing through the cold walls of the interrogation room, looking towards some unknown distance, his voice becoming both ethereal and resolute:

"Because I can't wait any longer..."

The words had barely left his mouth.

A deathly silence fell over the interrogation room.

The only sounds were the steady red light from the recording equipment indicator and the heavy or sluggish breathing of three people.