The sterile chill of the interrogation room wrapped around Jiang Zhiqing like a second skin. She sat rigid, the back of her coat still faintly damp from where the rotten egg had struck. The silence was broken only by the faint buzz of the overhead light and the low hum of a recording device.
Across the table, the lead investigator adjusted his file. He didn't look at her right away—just flipped open a folder filled with printed screenshots and text logs.
"Miss Jiang," he began, measured, "we recently accessed Mr. Chen Wei's personal email and phone history. Among the findings was evidence of an affair between him and his manager, Miss Ling Yuhua."
Zhiqing's lips pressed together, her knuckles white on the table.
The officer finally met her gaze. "Based on the timestamps… you were aware of this relationship long before either of their deaths. Our report says you discovered them together. Is that correct?"
Zhiqing didn't flinch. Her breath caught for a moment, but her voice emerged composed. "Yes. I walked in on them—once. It was over a year ago."
"Why didn't you report it? Or speak to anyone about it?"
She paused. "Because it wasn't a crime to cheat," she said quietly. "It was a betrayal. But not something I wanted to make public. I ended things with Chen Wei that day. There was nothing more to say."
The officers exchanged glances.
"So when Miss Ling Yuhua died by suicide and Chen Wei passed shortly after… You didn't think their deaths were connected to what you witnessed?"
Zhiqing looked down at her hands, her voice tinged with bitter clarity. "I blamed myself for a long time. For being blind. For trusting them. But no—I didn't think my silence could've led to this."
The silence that followed was heavy. No one scribbled notes. No one asked the next question right away.
And outside that room, beyond the cold steel walls, the world was erupting with opinions, outrage, and endless noise.
But inside, in this narrow, gray space—only truths remained.
The officer sitting closest to her leaned forward, pushing a bottle of water across the table.
"Here," he said, his voice deceptively kind. "You look like you need this."
She didn't reach for it.
Instead, she watched him with a cool detachment as he added, almost too casually, "But Miss Jiang… you had every motive to kill them."
The room held its breath.
Zhiqing didn't even blink.
Her lips twitched—into the faintest, slowest smile. Her eyes, dulled with exhaustion moments ago, now gleamed with something else. Sharp. Icy.
And then she laughed. Soft. Cold. Unapologetically amused.
"So they were murdered," she said, gaze locked onto the man's. "It's not a suicide?"
The chuckle died on her lips, but the challenge in her voice lingered.
The officers exchanged another glance—brief, but telling.
The younger one shifted in his seat, caught off guard. The older officer remained stone-faced, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed more.
"We're not ruling anything out," he said finally. "That's why you're here."
Zhiqing leaned back slowly in her chair, finally taking the bottle of water—but only to fiddle with the cap, not drink.
"Then let me be clear," she said, calm slicing through the room like a scalpel. "I didn't kill Chen Wei. And I didn't push Ling Yuhua off that building. Whatever they did, or didn't do, had nothing to do with me… anymore."
A pause.
"But I suppose once the internet decides someone is guilty, facts become irrelevant."
Her voice remained composed, but now it carried a razor's edge—sharp, unyielding.
"And if you're so sure," she added in a challenging tone, her gaze steady, "arrest me now."
The officers stared at her.
She leaned forward slightly, her presence commanding despite the sterile interrogation room.
"I will come out within a week," she said with unwavering certainty. "And when I do, I hope your department enjoys the public apology it'll owe me."
Silence fell. Heavy and sharp.
She rose from the chair slowly, brushing a wrinkle from her coat as though she were simply leaving a press conference.
"If there's nothing else you want to ask," she said, casting one final glance at the officers, "I will take my leave."
Neither officer stopped her. The door creaked open as she stepped outside—chin high, posture unshaken.
The storm might not have passed.
But Jiang Zhiqing wasn't going to wait around and drown in it.
The silence in the room remained unbroken even after Jiang Zhiqing walked to the door.
She paused for a moment—her hand resting lightly on the handle—then turned her head slightly, eyes locking with the senior officer across the table.
Unshaken. Untouched.
Without waiting for acknowledgment, she stepped out into the hallway where her manager, Du Xiaoman, and assistant, Song Xi, were anxiously waiting.
Du opened her mouth to speak, but Zhiqing raised a hand to stop her.
In a voice calm and crisp like cracking glass, Zhiqing said, her eyes still cold from the storm she'd just walked through—
"Arrange a press conference for me."
Her voice left no room for argument. It was final.
The clock in the station read 2:00 AM as Zhiqing stepped out of the police station, her steps echoing down the quiet, dimly lit hallway. The night was heavy with tension, the hum of the station's fluorescent lights the only sound beside the muffled voices of officers.
Outside the station, the air was cool and still. The streets were deserted, save for the occasional passing car.
Zhiqing, without so much as a glance at the darkened sky above, adjusted her sleek black sunglasses, despite the late hour, and gave the night a cold, calculated smile. She was a woman who had just withstood a storm and came out unscathed.
As the heavy doors of the station opened with a faint creak, the cool night air rushed in, but Zhiqing remained composed, her posture perfect. She walked out with the same poise, her every step sharp and deliberate, as if she were walking on a red carpet, not in the midst of an investigation.
Du Xiaoman and Song Xi quickly caught up, walking briskly to keep up with her. Zhiqing didn't flinch as the cameras from a few remaining reporters flickered in the distance, still stationed outside the station, hoping for any glimpse of a headline-worthy moment.
She settled into the car, the door closing softly behind her. The night seemed to exhale around her, and she sank back into her seat, her hand resting briefly on the window as if to close off the world for just a moment longer.