Chapter Seven: Wronged

Yesterday, oh yesterday, how wonderful you were.
But yesterday is gone, and today brings only fruitless worries.
People spend their days regretting the past, forgetting that today too slips quietly away.
Time will not linger for anything, nor show mercy to anyone.
All that is left to us are beautiful or desolate memories.

In the blink of an eye, a pale light crept along the eastern horizon, and the earth gradually brightened.

Thump... thump...

A series of urgent knocks sounded at the door.
Who could it be so early? Could it be my cousin?
“Coming, stop knocking!”
I hurriedly grabbed a jacket and threw it over my shoulders to keep her from seeing my injuries and nagging me again.

Opening the door, I found two uniformed police officers standing outside.
“You must be Chu Yun?”
One of them, a woman dressed in a black skirt and stockings, questioned me sharply.

A chill ran through me—could they have discovered what happened last night?
But on second thought, that was impossible. I’d worked at the company long enough to know there were no cameras in the stairwell.

So I replied, “Yes, that’s me. What’s going on?”

The male officer beside her looked about twenty-seven or twenty-eight, with finely drawn features and a handsome air.
He opened a document pouch, took out several photos, and handed them to me.

“The person in these is you, right? Please come with us.”

I flipped through the photos—they weren’t very clear, but my face was still barely recognizable.
One showed me just entering the stairwell, one on the rooftop, and two were of me fighting the weasel in the stairwell.
But in the fighting photos, only I was visible—there was no sign of the weasel.
The images looked bizarre, as if I were having some kind of fit or seizure alone.

When I didn’t answer, they put me in the squad car. On the way, the policewoman kept questioning me.

“What were you doing at the company in the middle of the night?”

Thinking quickly, I made something up.
“I don’t really know—maybe I was sleepwalking. I have a habit of sleepwalking.”

She eyed me skeptically; clearly, she didn’t buy my story.

The male officer, driving, spoke up.
“I suggest you tell the truth when we get to the station, or you’re going to have a hard time.”

Who was he trying to scare? My education might not be high, but I knew the basics of the law.
Besides, I hadn’t killed anyone or broken the law—what right did they have to threaten me?

I stayed silent for the rest of the trip, no matter what they asked.

At the station, they led me into an interrogation room.
It turned out the policewoman was in charge.

She was attractive, with a good figure.
I couldn’t help but think that good looks really are an advantage for women—everything seems easier for them.
So young and already in such a position—most people would have to work twenty more years to get there.

A sharp smack on the table snapped me out of my thoughts.

She sat across from me, face stern, and banged the table.
“Stop daydreaming and explain yourself. What were you doing at the company so late? What happened in the stairwell? Why were you covered in blood when you came out?”

“How should I know? I told you, I have a sleepwalking problem, but you don’t believe me.”

I stuck to my story—sleepwalking. Let’s see what she could do about it.

“So you think if you say sleepwalking, you can get away with murder?”
Her voice was furious, fists clenched, as if warning me that if I didn't come clean, she’d use force.

But I wasn’t worried about her hitting me; what caught my attention was her mention of murder. Did someone die in the stairwell last night?

So I asked, “Who’s dead? How did it happen?”

Her face twisted with rage; she couldn’t hold back and punched me hard in the face, sending me sprawling.
Don’t be fooled by her delicate appearance—when she hit, she was fierce, splitting my lip.

“What’s wrong with you? Hitting someone without even asking questions. I’m going to report you for assault,” I shouted, climbing up.

No sooner had I spoken than she knocked me down again with a hook punch.

She said, “I’ve seen your type before. Go ahead and report me if you have the guts. You killed someone and still try to act tough.”

Hearing that, I felt a wave of injustice. Who could I reason with here? This was more unjust than Dou E’s wrongful execution.

So I lay on the floor and didn’t get up. If I stood, she’d just hit me again.

After all, this was her turf. If I fought back, it would count as assaulting an officer. Even if it turned out I wasn’t the murderer, that alone could ruin me.

“I really didn’t kill anyone—I don’t even know who died. Can’t you believe me just this once?”

Hearing my tone soften, she kicked me hard.
“If you didn’t do it, then what about Sun Wenwen’s death? You were the only one at the company last night.”

Sun Wenwen was dead? The news shocked me. She was such a kind girl, always caring toward others. My cousin told me she’d visited me in the hospital many times.

Who could be so cruel, to harm even someone like her? I felt anger and grief well up inside.

“How did she die?” I asked coldly.

“You’re asking me? I should be asking you. You were the only one there.”

She looked about to kick me again, but as she raised her foot, I grabbed her ankle and yanked upward.

I thought I’d pull her off balance, but I’d underestimated her flexibility—she simply slid into a perfect split.
If she hadn’t been wearing black safety shorts, her underwear would’ve been exposed.

With two sharp slaps, heat flared across my face—each cheek now bore a red handprint.

Her reflexes were incredible. Being slapped repeatedly, I finally began to lose my temper.

“Are you even listening to reason? I told you, I didn’t kill her. We were colleagues and got along well. Why would I hurt her? Use your brain—how did you even become a cop?”

She snorted and pointed at me.
“I’m warning you—stop playing games and confess truthfully. Believe me, even if you didn’t do it, I can still ruin you.”

She wasn’t wrong—someone in her position could pin a crime on me with a word.

I wiped the blood from my mouth, dragged over a chair, and sat down heavily.

“I truly don’t know how Sun Wenwen died. I swear, I didn’t kill her.”