[Police Station · Interrogation Room]
This was Yin Wuwang's second time in this interrogation room.
Last time they'd questioned Su Xiaoqing. This time it was her husband. Same room, same metal table and chairs, but the atmosphere was completely different—last time it was a woman barely holding herself together; this time it was a man who had completely fallen apart.
Xie Qingyan sat on one side of the interrogation table, flipping through a folder, his expression calm. But Yin Wuwang knew that beneath that calm surface, a meticulous mind was running through layer upon layer of deductions.
The door was pushed open, and Lin Zhiyuan led a man inside. The man was around thirty, his hair a tangled mess, his beard unshaven for days, dark circles under his eyes so deep he looked like he'd been beaten. He wore the gray clothes of the detention center, his entire being drained of vitality, his gaze unfocused.
Zhang Yunxiang. Murder suspect.
Little Deer Assistant 9527's voice echoed in Yin Wuwang's mind: "Zhang Yunxiang, suspect in the murder of victim Chen Wan. His character setting is... weak and insecure? But also capable of impulsive murder? Anyway, he's both—the author wrote both."
Yin Wuwang ignored it, only grumbling internally: This useless author can't even write a character's personality clearly. Weak and impulsive are two completely different traits—how can you stuff both into one person? But then again, this world was already falling apart, so having contradictory settings like this wasn't that strange.
Yin Wuwang stroked his chin. Just like how this sovereign suddenly felt like starting the Great War between Immortals and Demons for no reason—that was completely inexplicable too... This must be that idiotic author's doing!
Zhang Yunxiang was led to a chair and sat down. His gaze was hollow, staring blankly at the table, oblivious to everything around him. Lin Zhiyuan stood to the side and nodded at Xie Qingyan, indicating he could begin.
"Mr. Zhang." Xie Qingyan got straight to the point, his tone conversational. "Why did you kill Chen Wan?"
Zhang Yunxiang raised his head, his gaze shifting to Xie Qingyan. He seemed confused for a moment, as if trying to figure out who this person in front of him was. Several seconds passed before he answered, his voice dry and hoarse, like he hadn't had water in a long time: "I already said... he seduced my wife."
Xie Qingyan observed his demeanor without any visible reaction. When this man spoke, his shoulders hunched slightly inward, his chin dropped low—his entire posture was defensive, like a startled rabbit. This was indeed the behavior of someone weak and insecure, matching the character data the Little Deer Assistant had provided. Looking at it this way, writing him as impulsive wasn't wrong either—someone this weak, when drunk, had a high probability of impulsively smashing someone's head in.
"How did you know he seduced your wife?" Xie Qingyan pressed.
"Someone told me."
"Who?"
Zhang Yunxiang paused, his gaze drifting down and to the left before snapping back. "A... woman." When he said this, his voice carried a note of uncertainty, a kind of hazy confusion.
Yin Wuwang's eyes narrowed. That look was all too familiar—not the look of someone lying, but the look of someone genuinely confused. Zhang Yunxiang wasn't lying, but there was a foggy blank spot in his memory, and even he didn't know what was hidden there.
Xie Qingyan noticed this too. He made a mental note of this detail and continued pressing: "What did that woman look like?"
"I... can't quite remember." Zhang Yunxiang shook his head, his brow furrowed tightly as he struggled to search his memory. "I only remember her voice was lovely."
"Was she from the bar? A customer? Or an employee?"
"I don't know... I was drunk." Zhang Yunxiang's hands, clasped together on the table, twisted unconsciously—a sign of anxiety.
Xie Qingyan didn't press further immediately, giving him some time instead. Interrogation was like fishing; sometimes you needed to let out more line. He watched Zhang Yunxiang's face, analyzing his psychological state—extreme insecurity, deep fear, and a kind of prolonged numbness.
"But you remember what she said?" Xie Qingyan finally asked again.
Zhang Yunxiang's fingers stopped their fidgeting. His whole body seemed to freeze, as if someone had pressed a pause button. The interrogation room fell so quiet that only the hum of the air conditioning could be heard—that white noise made the atmosphere even more oppressive.
After a long while, Zhang Yunxiang finally spoke. His voice became strange, carrying a mechanical rhythm: "She said... 'Your wife is having an affair. With Chen Wan. She often waits for him by the bar's back door for their dates.'"
Yin Wuwang's pupils contracted slightly.
Zhang Yunxiang had said those words far too smoothly—not the smoothness of recollection, but the smoothness of recitation. Like a curse carved into bone, it rolled off his tongue without any thought, without any pause. Every word was crystal clear, the intonation as if he'd practiced it countless times.
Xie Qingyan had clearly noticed this too. His expression grew slightly grave, his gaze lingering on Zhang Yunxiang's face for several seconds. This man spoke haltingly and vaguely about everything else, yet when saying this particular sentence, he was abnormally fluent. That in itself was a massive tell.
"What happened that day?" Xie Qingyan asked, his tone carrying no edge, as if it were just a casual question.
Zhang Yunxiang lowered his head and began recounting the events of that day: "That night I was already on my way home, but the more I thought about it, the angrier I got, so I turned back to the alley behind the bar to confront him. I saw Chen Wan come out the back door, so I went up to question him. We started arguing, he shoved me, and I fell. When I got up, I saw an empty liquor bottle on the ground, so I picked it up and smashed it over his head."
"So you attacked him?"
"Yes. It was impulsive." Zhang Yunxiang's voice was very low. "I was so angry at the time, I didn't think..."
"How many times did you hit him?"
"Once. Just once. He went down and stopped moving. I thought he was dead, got scared, and ran."
Yin Wuwang observed Zhang Yunxiang's subtle expressions from his corner. When the man said "it was impulsive," his voice wavered; when he said "I was so angry at the time," his gaze went distant—the telltale sign of someone accessing genuine memory. But when he said "he went down," he became strangely calm, showing no fear or regret.
Very odd. Unless he didn't believe he had "actively" hurt anyone.
Xie Qingyan continued pressing: "That woman—how many times did you see her?"
Zhang Yunxiang froze, clearly not expecting this question. "What?"
"The woman with the lovely voice—how many times did you see her?" Xie Qingyan repeated, his tone unchanged.
Zhang Yunxiang's expression became somewhat dazed. His gaze began to lose focus, staring at some distant place. "I... maybe more than once?"
"How many times?"
"I don't remember... every time I got drunk, I seemed to hear her talking."
"You heard her every time you got drunk?" A hint of sharpness entered Xie Qingyan's voice.
"Yes... she would lean in close, whisper... about my wife..." Zhang Yunxiang couldn't continue, but his lips kept moving, as if pulled by some invisible force, automatically uttering those words: "'Your wife is having an affair. With Chen Wan. She often waits for him by the bar's back door for their dates.'"
His hands began to tremble—not from fear, but more like something suppressed was trying to surge out.
Yin Wuwang sneered internally. Every time he got drunk, he would hear it. Not once, but many times, the same words repeated over and over. This wasn't "accidentally overhearing"—this was "deliberate indoctrination." Exactly like the heart-bewitching technique he'd been thinking about last night.
Zhang Yunxiang's current state was identical to those puppets controlled by heart-bewitching curses.
"Mr. Zhang." Xie Qingyan's tone grew serious. "You remember every word she said, yet you can't remember her face. Doesn't that strike you as strange?"
Zhang Yunxiang's body went rigid. He raised his head, looking at Xie Qingyan, a flash of panic in his eyes, as if someone had struck a nerve. "I... I was drunk..."
"Being drunk might explain not remembering her face, but you remember every word she said, not a single one wrong." Xie Qingyan leaned forward slightly. "You just said it twice, and each time was exactly the same—even the punctuation didn't change."
Zhang Yunxiang's breathing became rapid, his chest heaving violently. "She said it many times... so many times..."
"How many times?"
"I don't know... every time I went to the bar, when I'd had too much to drink, she would appear... and say the same thing every time..."
"The same thing?"
"'Your wife is having an affair. With Chen Wan. She often waits for him by the bar's back door for their dates.'" He said it again, still word-perfect, the intonation exactly the same as the previous two times.
Yin Wuwang watched this scene, his judgment already formed—this man had been brainwashed. The principle was exactly the same as the heart-bewitching curse.
Xie Qingyan stood up and walked over to Zhang Yunxiang, looking down at him from above. His voice was calm, but every word carried undeniable weight: "Mr. Zhang, are you certain? When you were drunk?"
Zhang Yunxiang's body trembled violently. His eyes reddened, but no tears fell. That expression wasn't anger or sadness—it was bewilderment. He was beginning to doubt himself, to doubt his memories, to doubt his decisions, to doubt his reasons for attacking.
"I..." He opened his mouth but couldn't say anything.
Xie Qingyan didn't press further. He turned and nodded at Lin Zhiyuan, indicating the interrogation could pause. He had already formed a theory.
[End of V2_Chapter 18]
Next: The woman without a face—a blade doesn't choose who wields it...