Detention Center.
This night was exactly the same as every other excruciating night.
Dinner arrived precisely on time: rice, stewed tofu, boiled cabbage. Food cooked early in a large iron pot, cold by the time it was placed before Qin Guan. A few drops of oil dotted with some unknown black specks floated on the yellowed, mushy cabbage leaves and the tofu that had long lost its shape. One look was enough to kill any appetite. The rice was clearly old, from the previous year or the year before—yellowed, rough to the bite, and giving off a smell like a damp corner during the rainy season.
But Qin Guan ate every last scrap.
He ate it slowly, deliberately, savoring each bite. Enjoying it.
Calm. Composed.
Just like years ago, on the morning his drunkard father died. He had calmly cooked a pot of corn porridge that day. He made it even better than usual—thick, smooth, fragrant. He ladled out a big bowl, ate it with a plate of fermented tofu, finishing it cleanly. He ate until he was full. Satisfied.
It seemed to be an innate trait of his.
Whenever unexpected changes occurred, they would cause him anxiety, panic, unease, terror. But once he saw the situation clearly, even if it was a major, seemingly hopeless predicament, he became calmer than ever.
In those moments of calm composure, he felt as if a tiger resided within him—a tiger full of spirit, coiled and ready to spring. The retrial was about to begin. His second time in court, defending himself. He was fully prepared.
How to refute, how to strike at the loopholes in the case, how to utterly destroy Xu Ruyi from the roots—he had it all planned out.
His lawyer had also obtained some favorable evidence: Firstly, an eyewitness confirmed that when Qin Guan's car was parked outside Yongfa Supermarket, a young man of medium build, wearing a hat and mask, had furtively climbed out of the car and quickly disappeared.
Secondly, the day after "Qi Min's disappearance," residents on a hillside about a kilometer from Lakeside Charm Hotel witnessed "Zeng Demei" and Qi Min, dressed in black, frantically flagging down a car to go down the mountain.
...
Of course, this evidence wasn't particularly strong.
But this was just the appetizer.
In court, his true opponent wouldn't be the police; it would be Xu Ruyi. What he needed most was to break that bitch.
7:00 p.m.
Qin Guan sat on the narrow, hard bench in his cell, listening to the chimes of an old-fashioned clock nearby. He closed his eyes. His fingers, resting on his knees, began to move silently again.
The trial was tomorrow. Xu Ruyi would undoubtedly lose.
Because, before the trial began, his daughter would have a little "accident."
His daughter was that bitch's life. If his daughter was "in critical condition," could she remain calm and collected in court? Respond with composure?
Impossible.
She would be distracted, anxious, and eventually break down. Then, she would inevitably make a mistake in court.
What happens to a woman already caught in a whirlpool of public opinion with a "complicated" reputation when she makes a mistake in court?
Qin Guan opened his eyes. A layer of contempt and triumph surfaced in their depths—that bitch, and that He guy, they had all underestimated Qin Guan's ability and resolve. They would pay for their underestimation with a humiliating, public defeat.
At that point, the case would return to a stalemate. The police and the prosecutor's office would face immense public pressure…
"1047!"
Just as Qin Guan was thinking this, someone loudly called his number. "1047, Qin Guan, come out."
Handcuffed, Qin Guan was led out of his cell.
The officer led him, walking, walking constantly. Downstairs, through corridors, upstairs, past room after room, office after office.
Where were they going so late at night?
No one answered Qin Guan.
Suppressing the unease in his heart, Qin Guan followed.
Finally, they arrived at an interrogation room.
This was different from the rooms he'd been interrogated in before. It was smaller. The door was covered with a layer of metal, acting like a mirror.
Qin Guan saw himself again—prison uniform, hair shaved extremely short, hands cuffed. He seemed even thinner than during his last court appearance, his posture slightly stooped when standing.
Prison truly could grind down a person's spirit.
Qin Guan straightened his back, lifted his head, and strode in to sit down—even if his edge was dulled, he was still himself. The lawyer with professional criminal defense skills and the ability to evade criminal charges.
He looked around. One wall was a large pane of glass—he knew perfectly well that on the other side, police were watching him.
Let them watch. Whatever trick the police pulled tonight, he could handle it.
Qin Guan sat calmly, closing his eyes to conserve energy. The door opened.
As he expected, the person who entered was Old He.
He Zhisheng, the one who had been doggedly chasing him like a persistent hound.
Judging by the barely concealed hint of excitement on He Zhisheng's tired, puffy face, he must have found some new lead—Qin Guan thought coldly. The guy was stupid, but stubborn as an ox. His face alone showed he'd been digging tirelessly, sleeplessly.
He was just digging in the wrong direction.
Of course, that wasn't entirely his fault for being stupid—Qin Guan took a deep breath, suppressing a wave of annoyance that rose in his heart.
There were two crucial points about Xu Ruyi's role in this case he still hadn't figured out. First, Feng Zhi: he had clearly seen Feng Zhi's back on the surveillance footage. So how could Feng Zhi have been sitting properly in class at the exact same time? How did he have that perfect alibi?
If it was someone deliberately chosen to resemble Feng Zhi's build, how did Xu Ruyi control that person?
It made no sense.
Second, there was Qi Min's body.
Qin Guan had thought of countless possibilities, but he couldn't fathom how that bitch had managed to move Qi Min's body from deep within the reinforced concrete pit beneath the construction site foundation to the bottom of the lake at Lakeside Charm Hotel.
"Alright, Qin Guan," Old He slapped a stack of documents onto the table and sat down casually, looking at him. "Trial's tomorrow. Still not confessing?"
"Confess to what? I've said all I need to say. I can say it again if you like," Qin Guan cooperated readily, launching right in. "I didn't kill Qi Min. That night, I…"
Old He raised a hand, cutting him off.
"Your lawyer found He Junjun, didn't he?" Old He got straight to the point.
Qin Guan's eyelids flickered.
His lawyer had found He Junjun—after tailing Old He and discovering he was looking for her, Qin Guan had advised his lawyer to immediately secure that woman.
Perhaps out of old feelings, He Junjun, hearing about his predicament, had actually taken pity. She agreed to the lawyer's request for help and was willing to testify for him if necessary—of course, this was Qin Guan's backup plan, not needed yet.
This witness was mainly to counter Xu Ruyi—if Xu Ruyi dared to bring up her so-called "truth" about her mother's tragic death in court.
So why was He Zhisheng suddenly bringing up He Junjun?
Did he want her to testify too? Testify to what?
Qin Guan couldn't grasp the other's purpose yet and remained silent.
"Actually, Xu Ruyi also sought out He Junjun," Old He said.
Qin Guan's eyelids twitched again—he knew this. It was precisely this point he intended to exploit. The question was, what game was He Zhisheng playing?
Old He seemed a bit tense. He unbuttoned the top button of his collar.
"According to He Junjun, when you were having your affair with her at the hotel, you were caught red-handed by Xu Ruyi's mother, Min Huifen. Is that true?" Old He asked.
Qin Guan didn't move.
What was this? Dragging him out late at night, not even for the Qi Min case? To dredge up these irrelevant old debts? Old debts with no evidence and no meaning?