Confession (2)

In the observation room, the Major Crimes Unit and the Second Criminal Investigation Team huddled closely around the wall-mounted monitor, every single pair of eyes wide and completely locked in.

On the largest screen, Guo Chongliang had shed every last layer of his refined elegance. He leaned heavily against the back of his chair, yet he looked far more relaxed than during any of his previous statement-taking sessions.

His eyes stared straight ahead, yet his focus didn’t land on any particular object. He gazed into the empty air, losing himself in the stream of his own memories.

“Xie Jia and I used to be together. Back in Tokyo, he mentioned he liked reading manga, and I said I did too. Every single weekend, we would head to the manga café together and just stay there for the entire day. He was incredibly talented at event planning. We joined the social mixer club, and he personally drafted the plan for every single activity we hosted. As long as he took charge, even the most difficult event would run flawlessly. During our second year of postgraduate studies, he entered a planning competition and instantly took first place.”

As he spoke of these past events, a distinct light shimmered in Guo Chongliang’s eyes.

Liu Huisheng scrutinized him intensely, deciphering a crucial piece of data from that fleeting spark:

“So, when you two were together back then, it was you who pursued him?”

Guo Chongliang tacitly admitted it: “There were many people pursuing him because he was exceptionally outstanding. Especially on campus, people rarely suppressed their affections. During our three years of postgraduate school, he would receive a mountain of chocolates every single Valentine’s Day. Ha… sounds pretty amazing, doesn’t it?”

As he spoke, the light in his eyes dimmed down into total obscurity: “But for such an outstanding individual to return to the country only to end up in that pathetic state.”

Zhao Yu followed the thread of his words, asking: “When exactly did he get together with Guo Chong’an?”

“Not long after returning to the country.”

“Were you two still together at that time?”

“No, we had already split up.”

“Why did you split up?”

“I was a bit too impatient. At the time, we were starting the business together and had achieved some initial success. I rapidly registered the trademark and confessed my feelings to him right after. We were together for a period—it was very brief—but he didn’t like that dynamic. He firmly believed that romantic partners should never share an economic relationship, just like how good brothers shouldn’t launch a company together.”

Running a company was never a simple matter of a joint partnership, nor did operations ever run as smoothly as a web novel. It fundamentally involved capital, investments, profits, and losses. The arguments and friction that naturally arose in a professional setting could very easily act as a blade that severed a romantic bond.

Xie Jia’s logic was entirely sound, and the breakup between the two men had been perfectly normal. He severed ties with Xili and sought out a fresh career path.

Up to that exact point, Xie Jia remained a fiercely confident, brilliant Master’s graduate from the University of Tokyo.

Interrogation required strategy. While ensuring the suspect detailed the exact progression of the crime, one also had to uncover the precise motive and pinpoint the exact psychological turning point that triggered the murderous intent.

Consequently, Zhao Yu pressed further:

“When did you first notice that something was wrong with Xie Jia?”

Guo Chongliang reminisced: “Last year, during the Changsen annual gala. At the time, he kept his shoulders perpetually hunched. If he accidentally shattered a glass, he would become extraordinarily anxious. I initially assumed it was just my imagination—because he was with my brother, my subconscious naturally primed me to assume he was miserable. I even went to see a psychologist over it. Later, I uncovered that my brother kept a vast string of lovers. I hired a private investigator to dig up every single one of those individuals and handed the data to him. But after he found out, instead of breaking it off with my brother, he actually claimed it was normal.”

At the time, Xie Jia had simply pushed the document bag packed with records and photographs back across the table. He kept his hands wedged tightly between his knees, his shoulders slouched low as he stared blankly at the tabletop. His voice had sounded so pathetic, it was like dust on the roadside.

“This is completely normal. He is highly exceptional, so it makes sense that many people would pursue him.”

Guo Chongliang had argued fiercely on his behalf: “Back when we were in school, you had a ton of pursuers too. Did you ever two-time people and ride multiple boats the way he does?”

“It’s different.”

“How is it different?”

“He is just that brilliant and talented, whereas I can’t seem to do a single thing right.”

As the grey memories surged to the surface of his mind, the muscles between Guo Chongliang’s brows clamped tight. His voice echoed with stark clarity throughout the interrogation room:

“At that moment, his entire being was swallowed by an extreme inferiority complex. It was only then that I fully realized Guo Chong’an was systematically breaking him down through PUA tactics. Guo Chong’an didn’t love Xie Jia at all, nor did he love Fang Qing—he didn’t love a single one of his lovers. He simply got off on the sick thrill of seeing exceptional individuals groveling beneath his feet.”

“And then?” Zhao Yu pressed.

“And then, one of his newer lovers used his phone to blast a couple’s photo, which was intercepted by my father. Dad used the corporation to threaten him, forcing him to get married and sire an heir. Because of that pressure, he locked his sights onto Fang Qing. I viewed it as a prime opportunity, so I informed Xie Jia about it.”

“So, that was what gave Xie Jia the courage to step forward and propose a breakup?”

“Yes.”

“But it ultimately failed.”

“Correct.”

“I have a question.”

“What?”

“Even if the breakup collapsed, it still doesn’t seem like enough to suddenly trigger a homicidal urge in you.”

After all, it wasn’t Xie Jia’s first day being subjected to psychological manipulation.

Furthermore, Guo Chong’an was Guo Chongliang’s blood brother. Committing fratricide over an outside individual required a trigger far more severe than a mere “failed breakup.”

The air in the room instantly grew heavy, their breathing turning sluggish and constrained.

Guo Chongliang didn’t offer a word, but Liu Huisheng’s mind instantly connected his tightly pursed lips to another harrowing possibility—

“When Xie Jia was violated by Guo Chong’an, you witnessed it.”

Her tone carried a slight tremor, yet her words were absolutely absolute.

Zhao Yu suffered a violent jolt. She whipped her gaze over to Guo Chongliang, and sure enough, his features didn’t register a shred of shock or confusion. Instead, it was the crushing weight of destiny that arrives when the deepest, darkest secret of a soul is violently unsealed—a total annihilation of his life’s core.

Guo Chongliang deflated entirely, his shoulders slumping as he took a solid five seconds to steady himself before speaking again:

“I was terrified that Xie Jia’s emotions would completely fracture when he confronted him. So, during a prior visit to his office, I secretly planted a pinhole camera.”

He would carry the memory of that day to his grave.

Xie Jia had struggled in pure agony, screaming and weeping until his voice tore apart. By the time Guo Chongliang frantically rushed over from his own company, Guo Chong’an was casually standing to one side smoking a post-coital cigarette, flipping through his phone to find a cleaning service. Xie Jia had already lost consciousness. The blood pooling beneath his frame stained the sofa crimson, his body curled tightly into a ball like a primitive, wounded animal.

The entire floor was a complete shambles.

“He only did this because he wanted to keep me around. He even bought an insurance policy and listed my name as the sole beneficiary.”

When he finally awoke in the hospital bed, Xie Jia’s face was whiter than a sheet of paper. Yet, when Guo Chongliang begged him to report it to the police, he still frantically made excuses to absolve Guo Chong’an:

“This proves he still needs me. It means I’m not entirely worthless.”

He had willingly and entirely transformed into Guo Chong’an’s spiritual s*ave, leaving himself absolutely zero path for self-rescue.

“Brother, that assistant of yours… what do you plan to do with him?” Two days later, Guo Chongliang casually tossed out the question while driving Guo Chong’an along the way.

Guo Chong’an harbored zero knowledge of the history between the two men. To a true s*ave master, there was never any need to care about a s*ave’s inner world; his only focus was finding ways to extract maximum value from the asset.

“He’ll head back to work the second he’s discharged from the hospital. You don’t need to stress over it.”

“What about Fang Qing? What happens if she finds out?”

“It’s already taken care of. She has no choice but to marry me.”

“Aren’t you even a little afraid that the two of them might join forces, or simply walk away one day?”

“Heh… a s*ave never dares to run away—unless, of course, I end up dead one day. Right, Chongliang, help me keep a lid on this matter. It absolutely cannot impact my wedding.”

s*ave, marriage, dead.

The three words stacked heavily on top of one another. They were like maggots feeding on the completely dried-up nutrients of a rotting tree trunk. A freezing autumn wind swept past, and the dense cluster of insects morphed into a flock of black bats, screeching violently as they blotted out the sky like a locust plague. After the piercing shriek subsided, nothing remained but a hollow root.

Guo Chongliang’s eyes narrowed slightly in the rearview mirror, his murderous intent manifesting in a flash:

“Yeah. You’re right, brother.”

On the day of the crime, Guo Chongliang systematically avoided every single wedding videographer’s lens, tracking down Guo Chong’an:

“Brother, someone sent this to me.”

He pulled up the raw footage captured by the pinhole camera on his phone.

Guo Chong’an valued his status as the corporate heir above all else, and he valued his public reputation even more. Consequently, he rapidly fabricated an excuse about feeling unwell, isolating Guo Chongliang into the groom’s dressing room.

They hid it from absolutely everyone.

“The other party is likely after money.”

Guo Chong’an possessed absolute, unshakeable confidence in his own negotiation tactics.

“Chongliang, ask him exactly how much capital he wants.”

Guo Chongliang didn’t utter a single syllable. He kept his hands slid deep into his suit trousers, his fingers clad in surgical gloves. The precise millisecond he saw Guo Chong’an turn his back to walk toward the wine cabinet…

He knew it was now or never.

Snatching up the knife he had planted on the dining table ahead of time, he closed the distance from behind at lightning speed, aiming directly for the heart and plunging it straight in.

“Ugh!”

He vividly felt Guo Chong’an’s frame lock up rigid as the blade sank deep into his flesh, and he heard the choked scream of pure agony tearing from his throat.

“What the hell are you doing!”

Guo Chong’an erupted into a violent, thrashing struggle. Fortunately, Guo Chongliang had prepared meticulously—his other hand used a towel to clamp tightly around the base of the blade, using raw, brute force to pin his brother firmly against the wall. During the chaotic struggle, the blade shifted slightly within the wound, but the geysers of blood were firmly suppressed by the thick fabric of the towel.

He knew he had to finish this swiftly.

Bracing himself, he gripped the handle and pulled the blade out by a fraction.

Squelch—

The heart contracted violently. The sound of a foreign object scraping against compressed tissue and shifting fluids echoed sharply. Crimson blood erupted violently from the chest wound, spraying across the front of his shirt and splashing a full three feet up the wall. The agonizing screams echoed within the confined space, yet they were completely drowned out by the thunderous, celebratory wedding music blasting outside.

Instantly, Guo Chong’an’s entire body went completely limp. The force of his struggle plummeted to zero, and the hand he had raised to desperately claw at his attacker dropped powerlessly to his side.

“Gargle… cough…”

His eyes bulged wide, his mouth hung open, and the jagged rattle of air escaping his throat signaled his final moments. Guo Chongliang knew his strike had been fatal.

The heavy body slumped down like a sack of wet concrete. Guo Chongliang kicked his legs aside, controlling the fall to force him into a kneeling posture, his spine arched forward and his forehead resting flush against the wall.

Following that, a mere second before Guo Chong’an drew his final breath, he leaned down close to his ear to deliver his final verdict:

“What you owe them isn’t money.”

He paused for a beat before adding:

“It’s a life.”

Chime— Chime— Chime—

The wall clock struck the top of the hour. Guo Chong’an knelt dead at the base of the wall, blood continuing to pump out from his chest wound in thick, rhythmic pulses.

The entire floor was a sea of crimson. Standing just beyond the edge of the blood, Guo Chongliang cast a single look at the mural depicting a demon hoisting a massive iron hammer, turned on his heel, and walked away.

The complete operational progression of the crime had been meticulously reconstructed by Guo Chongliang himself. He leaned back against his chair, his head tilted back and his eyes entirely out of focus. Though the interrogation lights cast a vertical beam straight into his eyes, the light seemed completely incapable of penetrating their depths. He appeared to be lost in thought, or perhaps he had simply reached the absolute dead-end of his life’s path with nowhere left to turn—silently waiting for the judge to pass sentence.

“This world is nothing more than a scorching hot furnace. Some people are burned to death, while others simply watch them burn.”

He stated.

The heavy door of the interrogation room clicked open once more, and it was already the dawn of the following morning.

Guo Chongliang’s parents had rushed over the second they received the news, bringing every single scrap of the family’s savings and real estate deeds. First, they argued fiercely that it was utterly impossible for their son to commit murder and that the police had bungled the case. Second, they demanded to use the family’s entire net worth to secure his bail—the Guo family was left with only this single male heir.

Chen Doudou calmly laid out the circumstances to them and informed them that Guo Chongliang had personally confessed to the murder. Only then did the elderly couple accept the reality, their spirits instantly shattering into absolute despair. The father suffered a sudden heart attack on the spot, forcing Han Bing and Xiao Fei to rapidly transport him to the hospital.

Qin Song and Brother Zhong escorted Guo Chongliang back to the crime scene to walk through the physical reenactment. Having fully executed her role in the case, Liu Huisheng made her way toward the Hehai District Psychiatric Hospital—the other victim tied to this investigation, Xie Jia, was still residing there.

As she stood by the curb waiting for her rideshare app to connect, a remarkably familiar sedan suddenly screeched to a halt right in front of her.

Vroom—

The car window rolled down at a smooth, steady pace, framing Zhao Yu’s sharp, clean profile against the early morning light.

“Get in,” she said icily.

“Captain Zhao?” Liu Huisheng intentionally used the detached, professional title. “What is it? Another field assignment?”

“Mm.”

“Then I won’t get in your way. I need to head over to a different location.”

Zhao Yu didn’t say a word. With a crisp click, her seatbelt snapped open. Her long legs swung cleanly out of the driver’s seat, and she rounded the hood of the car to stand directly in front of Liu Huisheng. Leaning across, she swung the passenger door wide open, resting her elbow casually along the top edge of the frame. Her shirt sleeves were rolled up to her forearms, exposing lean, fluid lines that silently radiated a sense of absolute power.

“I’ll drive you,” she stated.