Facing his rigid features and scorching stare, Chu Lingyun felt an unprecedented pressure. Sweat beaded on her temples.
She understood the immense gravity now – this involved human lives. There was no room for error, no tolerance for lies. The stakes had just skyrocketed far beyond a simple interrogation.
His next words hit like a sledgehammer against her already frayed nerves:
"You need to understand this clearly: Matters of life and death are sacrosanct. Fabricating stories about them is absolutely unacceptable. Human life and the dignity of the law are supreme; they cannot be trampled by anyone!"
"If I find you've uttered a single lie," he gritted out, jabbing a finger towards the bodycam on his shoulder, "I *will* arrest you immediately. Charges could include disorderly conduct, obstruction of justice, and interfering with police duties!"
Chu Lingyun instantly grasped that she couldn't bluff her way out of this.
She took a deep breath, fighting to control the tremors wracking her body. Maintaining a semblance of calm composure, she addressed his questions with deliberate patience:
"The first question, I've already answered. I truly saw it in the dream. I'm not lying."
"As for the second question," she continued, meeting his intense gaze, "I'm not entirely sure which body you're referring to as the seventh. I imagine… it might be the one hidden in a more concealed location."
"Hmm, let me recall…" Chu Lingyun murmured, mimicking his earlier gesture by touching her chin thoughtfully. Gao Muyang didn't rush her, but he stayed close, a constant, watchful presence.
He tapped the bodycam on his shoulder again, a silent, potent reminder that every word was being recorded, urging her to choose carefully.
Chu Lingyun gave him a small, grateful nod. She replayed the dream in her mind like a film reel, then offered her deduction:
"In the middle apartment… the bedroom facing the street. The door collapsed. A child… a boy, less than ten years old… was trapped beneath it."
"He was still clutching one long ear of a stuffed rabbit toy. Everything… everything was completely charred. And the body… crushed and deformed by the weight of the door… That's why the firefighters couldn't find the remains…"
Chu Lingyun was certain this was the truth. She'd seen it with her own eyes in the dream—a fiery hellscape etched into her memory, making her hair stand on end and cold sweat break out across her skin.
Armed with this critical lead, Gao Muyang paid no heed to Chu Lingyun's ghostly pallor. He abruptly released his grip on her shirt.
In one fluid motion, he grabbed his radio, punching the call button with sharp efficiency, and rapidly relayed the information to his teammate, Gazi, who was inside the building.
The entire sequence was executed with practiced precision—no hesitation, no wasted movement—a stark display of his training and competence as a detective.
It didn't take long for Gazi's crackling voice to respond, filled with stunned awe: "Yang-ge, you're a damn prophet! Seventh body found. Total fatalities confirmed at seven."
"Coroner Yao just confirmed the new one. A little boy, seven or eight years old. Damn shame… still holding onto his favorite wubby…"
"Found fragments of a charred stuffed toy at the scene. Kid's bones… crushed under the door slab, mixed in with the burnt wood. It's a mess, boss. Real bad."
"Remains were buried like that, which is why the fire crew almost missed him. Holy hell…"
"Thank god you figured it out, or we'd all be screwed… Yang-ge, spill! Where'd you get this lead? Who's your source? This is unreal!"
"You're killing me here! Are we looking at a commendation? I swear I can see that Meritorious Service Medal waving at us! Hey? You there, Yang-ge?!"
Gao Muyang silenced the radio with a sharp *click*. He couldn't stomach Gazi's effusive praise any longer. Because as Gazi spoke, confirming every chilling detail, Gao Muyang felt his own heart sink like a stone.
His face darkened to a thunderous scowl. The scene evidence matched Chu Lingyun's account point for point, solidifying her connection to this tragedy beyond doubt.
A complex storm of emotions churned within him – suspicion warring with a strange sense of pity and regret towards this fragile-looking girl, mixed with a dawning apprehension about the strange, unsettling depths of human nature.
In all his years on the force, he'd never encountered a case this perplexing, nor one that veered into such bizarre territory. His judgment felt momentarily paralyzed.
A deep-seated resistance flared against simply condemning the girl. Irrationally, instinctively, he felt she was innocent, *wronged*, even as the evidence piled up against her.
He grasped for a pretext. "Need to verify the family details with the neighborhood committee," he stated brusquely, using the excuse to avoid directly confronting Chu Lingyun again.
The girl exerted a strange pull on him, an instinctive urge to believe her, to shield her, warring fiercely with the cold, rational demands of his profession.
Logic and emotion pulled him in opposite directions, a relentless tug-of-war that left him feeling like his head was splitting. There was no joy in the potential commendation, only profound unease.
He spent an uncomfortably long time ostensibly verifying the victims' identities, ignoring the girl beside him. Chu Lingyun watched him, utterly bewildered by his sudden distance, a fresh wave of nervous uncertainty washing over her.
Soon, the confirmation came through. The neighborhood committee members corroborated Chu Lingyun's account once more:
The middle apartment *had* housed a family of four: parents with two children. A little boy, the older brother, had just turned seven and started primary school. A baby girl, the younger sister, was just shy of a year old…
With the dual confirmation from the neighbors and the fire scene itself, the last shred of hope Gao Muyang had been clinging to evaporated. Chu Lingyun's account was undeniably true.
*Who else could know such unreleased details about the scene—details even the rescue teams missed?* The grim conclusion settled upon him: *Only the perpetrator. And maybe not even the perpetrator knew as much as she does.*
What now? What could he do? Gao Muyang recoiled at the thought of arresting Chu Lingyun, yet she was undeniably the prime suspect. Was there any wiggle room left?
He racked his brain, desperately searching for any justification, any reason *not* to take her into custody immediately.
Meanwhile, Chu Lingyun stood nearby, blissfully unaware, naively believing that her honest answers meant she'd be free to leave any moment. She had no inkling of the immense trouble she was truly in.
Cases involving human life were never simple, anywhere, anytime. And this involved seven vibrant lives. It was clear: Chu Lingyun wasn't walking away today.
Frustration gnawed at him. He felt like tearing his hair out, but no plausible excuse for her emerged. With profound reluctance, he steeled himself to escort her back to the station.
The news struck Chu Lingyun like a thunderbolt. She froze, then uttered in a voice thick with despair, "You said… you said if I told the truth, I could go! Why break your promise? I don't want to go! Not to the station!"
She twisted away, her whole body radiating resistance. Gao Muyang couldn't meet her eyes, a pang of guilt stabbing him. She was right. He *was* going back on his word.
But this was about human lives. It was far bigger than him, a mere detective. He didn't have the authority to let this go.
He'd truly tried to find a way out for her, but every path led to a dead end. His dark eyes filled with struggle and exhaustion.
Just as Gao Muyang reached for his handcuffs, Chu Lingyun's eyes widened with sudden inspiration. She dodged his grasp with surprising agility.
"Wait! Wait!" she blurted out, breathless with urgency. "I… I have an alibi! You can't arrest me!"
Gao Muyang's eyes snapped to hers, a flicker of hope—and a barely perceptible curve touching his lips—before he could suppress it.
*An alibi!* Why hadn't *he* thought of that? The girl was sharp. Maybe there *was* a way out after all.
The old saying echoed in his mind: *Seek without success, then find without effort.* Just moments ago, he'd feared they'd reached a dead end (*no way through the mountains, no ford at the river*), yet now, unexpectedly, a path opened (*willows darken, flowers brighten—another village appears*).
His admiration for her grew involuntarily. Not only did she keep her cool under pressure, but it seemed *fortunes favor the bold*, and *the boat straightens when it reaches the pier* – she found a way through.
He had a sudden, inexplicable premonition: this girl might be the key to cracking this case, perhaps even play a significant role in his life beyond it.
The thought brought an uncharacteristic lightness to his expression, a hint of relief breaking through the tension.
Chu Lingyun, oblivious to the complex storm of thoughts he'd just weathered, only saw the strangely pleased look on his face, the near-smile directed at her. She stared back, utterly bewildered and more than a little confused.