Anjing.
It was already past two in the morning.
There weren't many people left in the conference room. For everyone involved, it had been a marathon interrogation session.
The atmosphere was heavy. The only sound came from the speakers—a woman's cries of "no," one after another, mixed with sobbing.
There was also a man's screams, which had become hoarse from shouting.
And, of course, the perpetrator's torrent of shameless, filthy curses.
"Bastard!"
Minister Liu slammed the table and shot to his feet in anger.
Xu Jinguang remained silent, wondering who that "bastard" was aimed at.
'Wang Shulin?'
'Or Lu Weihong, who had killed six people?'
Minister Liu waved his hand, signaling for a pause. He irritably undid a button on his shirt, as if that could relieve the suffocating unease in his heart.
"Jinguang, we have to get to the bottom of this case."
He had set the tone.
It was a heinous crime.
