Desire for Control

Inside the interrogation room of the Hehai District Public Security Bureau, Xie Jia sat alone at a square table. He held a paper cup in both hands, feet pressed together, staring blankly at the steaming surface of the liquid, motionless.

In the observation room across the wall, Zhao Yu was adjusting the audiovisual equipment while Liu Huisheng sipped milk tea, her eyes fixed on the screen. Beside them stood Vice Captain Qin Song, who had just rushed back.

Zhao Yu gave a brief rundown of the situation. Qin Song’s eyes widened in disbelief:

“What do you mean? He was involved with Guo Chong’an?”

Zhao Yu turned the interrogation room volume up to level 4 and explained: “It’s almost certain. The footage caught Guo Chong’an with his arm around his waist.”

“They’re two grown men,” Qin Song said dismissively. “Putting an arm around a shoulder or waist is pretty normal, isn’t it?”

“Guo Chong’an bought a life insurance policy with his name as the beneficiary.”

“Huh? Xie Jia’s name?”

“Yes. But it seems Xie Jia didn’t know. When I told him earlier, he looked shocked.”

As soon as she finished, Liu Huisheng interrupted:

“It’s fake.”

“What is?” Zhao Yu asked.

“His shock was an act. He knows about the insurance.”

“How can you tell it was an act?”

Liu Huisheng withdrew her gaze from the monitor and looked at Zhao Yu and Qin Song. With a deadpan expression, she suddenly let out a loud scream:

“AH!”

Zhao Yu jolted violently. A second later, she asked: “What was that for?”

Liu Huisheng looked satisfied with the reaction. “That reaction you just had—that was genuine surprise. The expression freezes, body movements stop, but it never lasts more than one second. Xie Jia’s ‘shock’ earlier lasted a full three seconds. Therefore, he was faking it.”

Any surprise that lasts longer than one second is an act.

Zhao Yu recalled the earlier encounter; Xie Jia’s stunned silence had indeed felt a bit drawn out. She nodded in agreement with Liu Huisheng’s logic and asked:

“So, how should we proceed with the questioning?”

Liu Huisheng tossed her empty milk tea cup into the bin and stretched her arms upward, her slender waist creating a graceful curve against her shirt.

“We’ll just ask and see how much we can get out of him.”

The interrogation room door closed again. Two more people were now in the room—Liu Huisheng, sitting directly opposite the suspect, and Zhao Yu to her right, handling the notes.

“Mr. Xie,” Liu Huisheng began in a gentle tone. “We’ve brought you here for the reason we discussed. Last year, the deceased purchased a life insurance policy worth 8 million dollars, and you are the beneficiary.”

“Officer, I’ve already told you—I didn’t know President Guo bought that insurance.”

“You knew.”

“I really didn’t.”

“You’re smart. You knew the insurance wouldn’t stay hidden, so when Officer Zhao mentioned it, you intentionally put on a shocked expression. But that expression was fake. Normal surprise doesn’t exceed one second, yet yours lasted three.”

“I…”

“Even now, you’re clasping your hands tightly. It shows you lack confidence in your own words. Of course, you’re lying to us, so naturally, you lack confidence.”

Xie Jia looked down at his hands. They were exactly as Liu Huisheng described. He quickly hid them under the table and bit his lower lip hard.

Liu Huisheng continued: “Hiding is useless. Just like your relationship with Guo Chong’an—no matter how well you concealed it, it doesn’t change the fact that you were his lover.”

Xie Jia looked up in a panic: “No, I wasn’t!”

Liu Huisheng pulled a photo from the case file and pushed it toward him. It was the screenshot from the anniversary where he was looking at Guo Chong’an with deep affection.

“This is a screenshot from your anniversary celebration. Your expression has already betrayed you.”

Xie Jia glanced at it and hurriedly looked away. “It’s just an expression. It proves nothing.”

Liu Huisheng then pulled out two more photos and lined them up:

“These are photos of two celebrities. In this one, when Qu Tang looks at Yan Zhaoxi, the corners of her mouth turn up, her eyes squint, and fine lines appear at the edges—exactly like you. In this other one, when Zhao Xin’er looks at Dong Peng, only her mouth turns up; her eyes show no sign of a smile. A month later, Zhao Xin’er was caught cheating by the media. Meanwhile, Qu Tang and Yan Zhaoxi are still going strong. Mr. Xie, love is something that leaks out through the eyes.”

At this, Xie Jia’s tense frame finally buckled. His shoulders slumped—a movement signifying the collapse of his internal fortress.

“President Guo and I… were indeed dating in secret.”

“When did it start?”

“Four months after I joined the company.”

“How did it begin?”

“Back then, I was just a junior assistant in a management role. I once messed up a client’s file and was told I wouldn’t pass my probation. But President Guo didn’t get angry. Instead, he called me into his office for a heart-to-heart, encouraged me, and told me how to improve… Later, I passed probation smoothly. It was only afterward that I realized he had personally spoken to HR to make it happen.”

“And then?”

“Then, during a business trip to Japan—I happened to have a visa, so I went with him. I was bad at many things, quite useless, but he kept guiding me. That day, we closed a big project. We were happy, had some drinks, and then… then it happened.”

“So, shortly after you passed probation.”

“You’ve been at Changsen for three years. Does that mean for these past three years…?”

“No. When I heard he was getting married, I asked to break up.”

“Break up,” Liu Huisheng caught the keyword. “If you asked for a breakup and he agreed, you would have just said ‘we broke up.’ So, you didn’t successfully end it.”

Xie Jia’s eyes reddened: “Yes.”

“Why?”

“He wouldn’t agree.”

“But he was getting married to a woman. He was the one abandoning this relationship.”

“But… but the marriage was forced by his father. Changsen was the company his father built, and to inherit it, he had to marry and have children to carry on the legacy. If he didn’t marry, he would lose the company.”

“Who would the company go to? I recall Guo Chong’an has a younger brother.”

“The younger Mr. Guo has no interest in Changsen. He started his own software company called Xili.”

“So even if the company were offered to the brother, he wouldn’t take it. It seems Changsen was already in Guo Chong’an’s pocket—he had no competitors. Yet he sacrificed your relationship for something he already owned.”

Xie Jia’s lip trembled: “It… it wasn’t just me.”

“What?”

“President Guo… he had other lovers.”

Liu Huisheng froze, exchanging an incredulous look with Zhao Yu. She followed up:

“Men or women?”

Xie Jia gripped the edge of his stool: “They were all men.”

“How many?”

“Three others that I know of.”

“Did his fiancée know about you all?”

“No. President Guo was very careful.”

“You knew he had other lovers, yet you still didn’t leave?”

“Because we were all just lovers, and all men. There was no real winner or loser. I could outdo a lot of people and be better than all the other lovers, but I couldn’t beat a woman.”

In developed coastal regions, acceptance of homosexuality is relatively high, but in a place like Wengcheng—especially in traditional families like the Guos—it was almost a death sentence.

Liu Huisheng attempted to summarize: “So, Guo Chong’an was dating several male lovers simultaneously, but chose to marry a woman to inherit the family estate. You could accept his other lovers, but you couldn’t accept the marriage. So, when he decided to marry, you asked for a breakup.”

“Yes.”

“Then what about the insurance?”

“He bought it after I asked to break up, just to keep me around.”

“Was it to keep you around, or to control you?”

Crack!

The bones in Xie Jia’s neck made a small sound as he looked up in shock. Liu Huisheng’s eyes were clear, like beams of light piercing through a foggy forest.

“W-what do you mean?” he asked.

Having gathered the general facts, Liu Huisheng had already drawn a precise psychological map in her mind.

On the profile for Guo Chong’an, one label stood out with startling clarity:

A near-pathological desire for control.