"You don't remember something that Xu Ruyi knows?"
The young officer rested his arm on the car window frame, smiling at Qin Guan, but there was no trace of warmth in his eyes, only probing. "Such a big event, she remembers it clearly, yet you've forgotten? That's quite surprising."
Xu Ruyi had told them.
Qin Guan sat in the back seat, looking at the two faces before him, dense as nets—Xu Ruyi telling the police about his crazy mother being beaten and hospitalized had one obvious purpose.
She was trying to prove he came from a violent home, that his biological father was violent, savage, nearly killed someone, and that he, sharing his father's blood, would naturally commit murder against his lover.
That bitch was truly leaving no stone unturned to pin the crime on him.
This was her theoretical basis.
She also had evidence—stockings, Qi Min's stockings. How did she plan to use them?
Qin Guan didn't know, and he could no longer see clearly through her schemes, but he knew the crucial thing now was Qi Min—Qi Min, whom Xu Ruyi would never find. And without Qi Min, without the body, what meaning did those so-called pieces of evidence hold?
As long as he refused to admit anything, the police had no direct evidence to convict him.
"Well? Remembered now?"
Seeing Qin Guan remain silent, the other officer pressed him. He sipped tea from his cup, his gaze scanning every micro-expression on Qin Guan's face through the steam.
"Such a cautious big lawyer, not saying an extra word. Afraid you'll let some secret slip to us? Hah, we're just chatting right now. It's been a long drive, too tiring. A little chat helps us relax!"
Relax? Chat? Using this method?
This trick might work on others, but Qin Guan wouldn't fall for it.
He wouldn't step into any more traps—
First, the term "domestic violence" – they could forget about pinning that on him. From the time he married Xu Ruyi, or more precisely, from the moment they met, there had never been a single violent incident.
No matter what happened, no matter how angry, frustrated, or wronged he felt, in front of others, Qin Guan could always endure.
This ability to endure seemed innate, as if there was an enormous air sac in his belly where he could stuff all his emotions, then seal it shut. No matter how turbulent the storm inside, on the surface, it remained perfectly calm.
He could even perform a completely different emotion—
When his drunkard father rushed forward to beat his crazy mother, Qin Guan had been unnervingly calm like this.
"You ruined my liquor!"
His drunkard father's newly bought bottle of liquor was speckled with dung residue—of course, Qin Guan would never tell his father that he had done it, that he had framed the crazy mother.
He acted like any helpless child caught in such a situation: cowering to the side, neck hunched, eyes wide in apparent shock, body "stiff," watching with "fearful," "panicked" eyes as his drunkard father savagely beat the madwoman.
His crazy mother had no power to resist. She lay crumpled on the ground like a dog waiting for death, enduring the kicks and punches, the objects hurled at her head and body.
Hit her. Hit her harder.
Qin Guan shrank into the corner, holding his breath as he watched the scene. His heart was eerily calm. The thought sprouted uncontrollably in his mind—after all, his drunkard father beat her often. It wouldn't be strange however badly she was beaten, right?
Hit her. Best if she couldn't speak.
Yes, unable to speak, unable to make any sound. Then she couldn't tell anyone the secret.
Ah, no, she could still gesture. She could still pick up that cleaned sickle and show people. She could even take people to the dung pit where the dog was thrown and point things out...
So, what if he hit her harder? Would she—
If his crazy mother's piercing shriek hadn't brought the neighbors running, Qin Guan didn't know when his performance would have ended. The instant the neighbors rushed in at the sound, Qin Guan let out a loud "wah!" and burst into tears.
"Your mother was beaten very badly that time, right? I heard if the neighbors hadn't happened to hear and run over to pull your father off, your mother's life might have been lost. Is that true?"
"You were so scared you cried loudly. After that, you took care of your mom in the hospital every day. Your school teacher even went to the hospital to tutor you. You've forgotten all that?"
The officer smiled, his gaze sharper still. "I heard you even wrote about it in an essay back then. Your teacher recommended it to the newspaper, and it got published. It was very moving. How could you possibly forget?"
Qin Guan's Adam's apple bobbed.
Annoying. Truly annoying.
Xu Ruyi had told the police all these details—he shouldn't have let her know in the first place.
But it was impossible to hide from Xu Ruyi—after his crazy mother was hospitalized, Xu Ruyi's father learned the news from the teacher's phone call and immediately rushed to the hospital.
He paid the hospital fees. He also gave the drunkard father the definitive word—he would sponsor Qin Guan's education through university, covering all tuition fees.
The drunkard father expressed "remorseful" gratitude, thanking him profusely in simple, rustic terms, and also apologized to the crazy mother.
As for Qin Guan, he was grief-stricken—how devastated he acted! He cried until his eyes were swollen in the hospital. He sat on the cold floor crying; no one could console him. Only when his crazy mother was wheeled out of the operating room did he rush over like an arrow. "Mom—Mom—"
Those mournful cries moved doctors, nurses, teachers, neighbors—everyone.
During the days his crazy mother was in the hospital, Qin Guan ignored his drunkard father with hatred. He refused to eat a single bite of the food his father made, preferring to go hungry. He busied himself taking care of his crazy mother until she woke up.
He lost a lot of weight and poured his heart out into writing a deeply moving essay that made anyone who read it weep.
Yes, this ability to endure and perform—he discovered he'd had it since childhood and was exceptionally good at it.
No one detected any flaw. No one saw he was merely acting.
The sponsor, Mr. Xu, was heartbroken. He brought him books, money, many new clothes. When leaving, he gripped Qin Guan's thin shoulders. "Poor child..."
His teacher praised him and came to the hospital despite the hardship to tutor him.
His classmates sympathized, making cards wishing him a speedy return to school.
Even the village gossips softened their tongues: "With parents like that, that poor boy! At least he didn't get beaten. That little frame, one kick and he probably wouldn't get up!"
No one knew he had orchestrated it. Not even his drunkard father.
That stupid oaf never suspected a thing. His meager sense of remorse ended with his hospital performance. He quickly sank into the satisfaction of receiving sponsorship. He went through the motions at the hospital a few times, but as soon as no one seemed to be paying attention, he hurried home to lie down.
"Your mom stayed in the hospital for two weeks before being discharged, right? You took care of her the whole time. Lawyer Qin, so filial from such a young age," the officer smiled again, then swiftly changed tack. "Huh? I heard she recovered quite well when she was discharged, right? So how come she declined so quickly afterward—"
What did this mean?
A tidal wave of fury surged violently inside Qin Guan, but his face remained expressionless. He even raised his eyes, meeting the officer's gaze openly and calmly—What are you trying to ask? How many years ago was this? Who could still investigate anything? Who has any evidence?
Trying to scare him with this?
Dream on.
"Captain Zhang's back." Seeing Qin Guan turn his face away, the young officer called to his partner and opened the car door to get in.
Qin Guan turned his head back. In the distance, Captain Zhang, who had gone to buy drinks, was returning with a bag. His other hand held his phone—he was on a call.
The night wind carried his words to Qin Guan in broken phrases.
"What? Qi Min once told someone... about Xu Ruyi's father's death?"