Chapter 5: I Am Not the Murderer

“Is the suspect in any life-threatening condition?”

“I’ve checked his breathing, heartbeat, and blood pressure; his vital signs are stable. His pupils respond clearly to light, so intracranial hemorrhage is unlikely. He should be out of danger.”

“However, he has injuries on his hands and head. It would be best to send him to the hospital for further examination.”

“We’re short-handed right now. Please just provide some basic treatment. As long as he’s not in critical condition, that will suffice.”

“I’m just a forensic doctor. I’m only responsible for the deceased.”

“Uh…”

“How about this: if he hasn’t regained consciousness within half an hour, then send him to the hospital.”

“He is likely the murderer. I want to interrogate him as soon as he wakes up.”

In a haze, Zhou Yi seemed to overhear a conversation between a man and a woman, accompanied by the sharp smell of disinfectant and a faint trace of smoke.

He thought he was in a hospital, but when he forced his eyes open, the surroundings were clearly not a hospital.

It resembled more the detention room of the police station he was familiar with—a room used to temporarily hold criminal suspects.

Only, it had a more nineties vibe, with peeling paint on the walls and slogans like “Confess for leniency, resist at your peril” painted on them.

Zhou Yi’s head throbbed painfully, and his left hand ached severely.

He was lying on a hard wooden bed without even a pillow.

Just as he reached to rub his head, he realized his uninjured right hand was handcuffed to the iron frame at the head of the bed.

He scrambled up abruptly. Was he being held captive?

Sure enough, this was a detention room. The bed frame he had been lying on was welded to the floor with iron pipes.

This was to prevent suspects from using anything to self-harm.

But that design had flaws—suspects might still injure themselves by banging against the wall or the iron frame, even attempt suicide.

That’s why later detention rooms were redesigned with padded walls.

The detention room had no windows, only an iron-barred door.

Zhou Yi couldn’t tell what time it was or how long he’d been unconscious.

However, he noticed that his wounds seemed to have received some emergency treatment—the disinfectant smell he’d sensed was from his own body, and his left hand was bandaged.

“Is anyone there?” Zhou Yi called out loudly.

After about ten seconds, hurried footsteps approached.

Outside the iron-barred door appeared two policemen in light green uniforms—one old, one young.

Zhou Yi was about to state his identity when the older officer glanced at him coldly and said, “Oh, you woke up just after being brought in? That saves us the trouble of sending you to the hospital.”

“Officer, my name is Zhou Yi. I am—”

“Don’t rush. Let’s move somewhere else to talk. You better explain yourself properly.”

“Explain myself?” Zhou Yi was stunned, then instantly understood—they were treating him as the murderer of Du Xiaolin.

…

In the interrogation room, Zhou Yi was strapped into a restraint chair.

Opposite him, behind a desk, sat the same two policemen—the young one and the old.

The younger officer began by running through the standard interrogation protocol.

“We are detectives with the Criminal Investigation Unit of the Municipal Public Security Bureau. We are now questioning you according to the law. You must answer truthfully and not…”

Hearing this routine struck Zhou Yi as oddly familiar—he’d always been on the other side of the table before. This was the first time he was the one being interrogated.

After the formalities, the interrogation officially began.

It was clear the young officer was just the secondary interrogator, responsible for taking notes; the older officer was the lead interrogator.

This matched usual procedure—lead interrogators were officers with more case experience.

As expected, the older officer slammed his pen down on the desk with a sharp snap and said coldly, “Tell us, why did you kill her?”

Zhou Yi wasn’t surprised that they suspected him of murdering Du Xiaolin, but he hadn’t expected them to be so blunt.

His memory stopped at the moment he lost sight of the killer and saw two patrolling militia members.

In other words, the killer had escaped, and Du Xiaolin was dead.

A life as beautiful as a flower had withered and died.

To Zhou Yi, this outcome was disastrous—he failed to save the victim, failed to catch the killer, and ended up injured himself.

The only consolation was that his sudden involvement had altered the trajectory of the cold case numbered 316.

Du Xiaolin’s body must have been found by now, and the crime scene surely examined before the heavy rain arrived.

Crime scene investigation and collecting clues left by the culprit were key to solving the case.

Back then, the lack of such crucial evidence had caused the investigation to stall.

So now, clearing his own name was of utmost importance.

“Officers, I am not the murderer. I am a police officer from the Nanhu Street Police Station. My name is Zhou Yi, badge number 361810. You can verify this,” Zhou Yi said as calmly as he could.

The two officers exchanged a glance.

The older officer remained expressionless; the younger one looked surprised.

The older officer nodded, and the younger one immediately understood and left the room.

The older officer’s gaze was sharp and piercing as he stared at Zhou Yi.

“I warn you, impersonating a police officer is a serious crime.”

Zhou Yi nodded.

“I know. Article 279 of the Criminal Law.”

“Impersonating state officials for fraud is punishable by up to three years in prison, criminal detention, control, or deprivation of political rights.”

“In severe cases, the sentence ranges from three to ten years.”

“Impersonating a people’s police officer for fraud will be punished more severely under this clause.”

A flicker of surprise flashed in the older officer’s eyes.

“Oh? You came prepared.”

A few minutes later, the young officer returned and whispered something in the older officer’s ear.

Zhou Yi expected the content perfectly.

The young officer had called the Nanhu Street Police Station.

In 1997, there was no interconnected database system, so even if the station confirmed a Zhou Yi existed, that didn’t prove this man was truly him.

Verification took time, especially in the dead of night.

“Bang!” The older officer suddenly slapped the table, making a ceramic cup clatter loudly.

“I warn you, your situation is serious! Think carefully. Don’t imagine that staying silent will let you escape the law! We already have sufficient evidence. Don’t delude yourself with false hope!”

His face was stern, exuding undeniable authority, as if Zhou Yi were already a criminal.

Then the younger officer’s tone softened. “But if you confess voluntarily, the circumstances will be different. The court will take that into account during sentencing.”

He tapped the table with his pen. “Think it over.”

Zhou Yi felt helpless. After spending most of his life interrogating criminals, on the very first day after his rebirth, he was being treated like a suspect.

And the interrogation tactics were all too familiar: one playing the hard cop, the other the soft cop.

The hard cop applied psychological pressure with a tough demeanor; the soft cop acted gentle, fostering trust and dependence to ease the suspect’s defenses and encourage cooperation.

Despite the older officer’s forceful words, none contained actual substance—it was all psychological pressure.

This revealed the officer’s rich experience; he skillfully controlled the intensity to avoid false confessions or coercion.

But this tactic wouldn’t work on Zhou Yi because he knew he was innocent.

Psychological pressure only works if the suspect is truly guilty.

The law places more weight on evidence than on confessions.

But that requires a complete chain of evidence.

Often, evidence doesn’t present itself, so interrogation becomes a crucial method to obtain it.

Zhou Yi looked sincerely at the two officers.

“Officers, I really am not the murderer. I can prove my innocence.”