Nan Zhubin observed the changes in Lin Lulin's expression.
"I boldly speculate that after you found out that confessing everything couldn't secure the death penalty, you started making up stories for the police, didn't you?"
"—Yes, very good. On the one hand, you hoped these things would grant you the death penalty; on the other hand, you just wanted to talk to someone?"
"—Yes."
Nan Zhubin nodded, "You were once a professor with social status, the center of attention; now you're just someone lying in a prison hospital, barely seeing anyone other than the caregivers."
"You crave attention, even if it's from the police or the interrogation personnel, you still enjoy the feeling of their gaze fixed on you, don't you?"
"...No?" Nan Zhubin frowned a bit, but soon relaxed, finding a new line of thought, "No, it's partly correct."
"So you were like this when you first arrived, but now your demands have gradually decreased."
