Chapter 2: The Interrogation Room
Lin Mian sat alone in the cold interrogation room, the red marks from the handcuffs still visible on her wrists. The interrogation had ended two hours ago, yet she was still confined to the dimly lit room, waiting for the next move. The soft ticking of a wall clock seemed to stretch each second, its sound heavy in the silence.
Suddenly, there was a faint metallic click from the door lock. Lin Mian snapped her head up, her body tensing instinctively. The door opened, and a tall figure stepped inside—Qin Zhao'an, the man who had interrogated her earlier. He casually locked the door behind him, leaving the overhead lights dim, the room bathed in a faint yellow glow.
Qin Zhao'an pulled out a chair and sat across from her, the legs scraping against the floor with a sharp screech. Under the weak light, his expression was as cold as before, his eyes sharp, like a hawk watching its prey. Lin Mian stiffened under his gaze, her heart rate quickening.
After a brief silence, she spoke, her voice hoarse. "Can I leave now?"
Qin Zhao'an gave her a long, unreadable look before responding in a calm, almost detached tone. "There's something new we need to discuss."
Lin Mian glanced at the file folder on the table, her stomach sinking. She knew they had found something. Her worst fears were confirmed as Qin Zhao'an opened the folder and slid a document across the table towards her. Lin Mian's heart skipped a beat when she saw what it was—her name was on the top, but there were also marks indicating something far more serious.
"We found this in your luggage," Qin Zhao'an said softly. Lin Mian looked down at the paper, her blood running cold.
The document was a diplomatic agreement, its title partially redacted, but enough of it remained visible to make her heart race. It was a translation she had worked on in the past, one she had taken great care to hide. The very existence of this document in her possession was damning.
Before she could respond, Qin Zhao'an spoke again, his tone now colder than ever. "This unfiled copy of a confidential treaty—how did you come by it?"
Lin Mian swallowed, struggling to steady her breath. "I—I was hired to translate it," she stammered. "I don't know what the contents mean, only that I was asked to translate the text."
Qin Zhao'an's eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a faint sneer. "So, you just 'translated' it without understanding its significance? That's convenient."
Lin Mian felt a rush of frustration, but she kept her composure. "I don't know anything beyond what was in the text," she insisted, her voice low but steady.
Qin Zhao'an leaned forward, his eyes never leaving her face. "Then explain these." He slid several passports across the table, each with a different name, and a few other items: a satellite phone and some documents she couldn't quite make out. "These were also found in your luggage. You're telling me this is all part of the same 'translation job'?"
Her pulse quickened, but Lin Mian was quick to cover her anxiety. She had prepared for this. "Those passports… they're for different countries where I've worked. I needed them for legitimate reasons. They're just documents for travel purposes. Nothing more."
Qin Zhao'an's gaze remained unyielding. "And the satellite phone?" he pressed. "What's that for?"
Lin Mian clenched her hands under the table, feeling a cold sweat start to form on her skin. "I—" She hesitated. "I was just helping someone with a delivery. It's not mine."
He didn't respond immediately, but the contempt in his eyes was unmistakable. "Helping someone? With what?" His voice was a low growl, as though savoring the discomfort in her words. "You expect me to believe you?"
Lin Mian met his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn't afford to make a mistake now. "I don't expect you to believe anything. I just want to go home."
Qin Zhao'an leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, his eyes never leaving her face. "You want to go home, huh? Then you'll have to answer some questions."
Lin Mian's throat tightened, but she didn't back down. "I've answered everything already."
He let out a soft laugh, but it was empty, cold. "Not everything, Lin Mian. Not yet." He paused, letting the silence stretch. "You've been in this country illegally, under false pretenses. What is it you're really after? And who are you working for?"
Lin Mian felt a chill run through her, but her voice remained calm. "I told you, I'm just a translator. I have no idea what you're accusing me of."
He eyed her for a long moment, and then, with a sudden movement, he pushed the photographs toward her. "You sure about that? Because we have proof that you've been involved in something much larger than just translation work."
Lin Mian's fingers twitched involuntarily, her thoughts spinning in a whirlwind. The photographs on the table were of her, clearly from surveillance footage at the port, and they made her blood run cold. She hadn't been careful enough to avoid them, and now the evidence was undeniable.
"Now you're going to tell me the truth," Qin Zhao'an said, his voice hardening. "Tell me why you're here. Who are you working for?"
Lin Mian's mind raced, but she couldn't afford to slip up. "I'm not working for anyone. I don't know what you want from me, but I don't have anything to hide."
Qin Zhao'an's expression was unreadable, but his voice was a low hiss. "That's not good enough."
He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "You want to go home? Fine. But you'll be staying here longer unless you start talking. There's no escape for you now."
With that, he turned and walked out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. The silence in the room was deafening, and Lin Mian was left to contemplate her next move. She knew one thing for certain: things were only going to get worse from here.