Lin Zhiyan remained silent for a long while.
Jiang Yi simply flipped through documents quietly.
The room was utterly still, filled only with the sound of their breathing and the faint hum of the desk lamp’s current.
"Buzz—"
A terminal vibrated.
Jiang Yi answered the call, his tone calm. "Yes, I’ll be there shortly. The matter will be resolved soon—I won’t be late. He’s there too? Doesn’t matter. Ignore that lunatic."
The call was brief. After hanging up, he returned to reviewing the documents.
At that moment, Lin Zhiyan realized Jiang Yi was employing the "homeroom teacher tactic"—summoning her into the office but ignoring her entirely, letting her stand there indefinitely before finally sparing her a glance.
Sigh. Seems Jiang Yi has the patience of a saint.
Perhaps playing weak was the better option.
Lin Zhiyan leaned forward, resting her arms on the table, her hair cascading from her neck onto the surface like a flowing river. Tilting her head up, the river seemed to reverse its course.
She gazed at him intently, her posture delicate as a climbing vine, trembling like a flower in the wind. "If both options lead to punishment, then there’s no difference for me."
Jiang Yi noticed her fingers curling slightly, quivering like an unnamed white flower brushed by the breeze. He remained reclined in his chair, one arm draped over the table, the other pressing lightly against his waist.
His voice was flat, his eyes mocking. "Sit up straight. I can draw my gun faster than you can attack me."
Lin Zhiyan: "..."
What kind of logic is that?
Wait—was that a double entendre?
What a humorless double entendre!
Lin Zhiyan feigned confusion but then smiled. "I don’t understand what you’re implying, but I wasn’t trying to attack you. I moved closer to make myself clear: I believe I’m innocent. I have nothing to confess."
Seeing Jiang Yi’s brow furrow, she quickly cut in before he could speak. "You’re right—the bag strap could have snagged on the decorative edge of the wall. But how can you prove the other party wasn’t there? If he and I were struggling over it, the strap would’ve been taut, making it easier to accidentally catch on something. Maybe he realized it too?"
Jiang Yi almost laughed in exasperation. "If you insist on being obstinate, once this goes to court, jurisdiction won’t lie with the Military-Political Academy anymore."
"If you hadn’t suddenly informed me the case was transferred to you, I’d already be back at my hotel asleep," Lin Zhiyan retorted. Finally, she added, "At least wait until you have more evidence before harassing me, alright?"
Jiang Yi said coolly, "Why would I harass you? I’m just following procedure."
Lin Zhiyan lifted her gaze, staring deeply at him. "What are you trying to dig up from me? Something to use against the police? Even if we’re from the same academy, even if by interest, the Military-Political Academy and Cultural Studies should stand united."
"The Military-Political Academy has never been a monolith," Jiang Yi leaned in, his tone light but arrogant. "Getting into the academy from District Sixteen proves you’re clever. So, as a Cultural Studies student, comply with the Military-Political Department’s investigation."
Lin Zhiyan: "..."
Unbelievable. He’s the living embodiment of the 'elitist' stereotype.
On the StarNet, rumors claimed the United Military and Political Academy was divided into two: the Military-Political Department and everyone else. Resources and power skewed entirely toward the former—like "the elites and their five dogs," where even the Wealth Management heirs were just pedigreed mutts.
Lin Zhiyan had once wondered, Then what does that make Cultural Studies, with all its obscure majors? Now she knew: the village mutt tied outside, surviving on scraps—or worse.
Jiang Yi checked his wristwatch again—his time was clearly expensive, given the glitter of gemstones on it. Soon, he looked up. "You’re confident I lack evidence."
It wasn’t a question. He clearly had no intention of interrogating her further. Standing, he paced slowly to the side of the table, looking down at her. "The victim has a 5-8 cm blunt-force wound on the head, no wood splinters. Likely caused by a metal rod over ten centimeters long."
"The surveillance footage shows I wasn’t carrying anything like that," Lin Zhiyan replied evenly, tilting her head up. "My luggage is still at the hotel. You’re welcome to search it."
Jiang Yi smirked, bracing a hand on the table corner. "The wound pattern is irregular, discontinuous—suggesting the weapon was collapsible, with inconsistent force application. You could’ve easily carried it away."
"You’re free to think that—if you can find it," Lin Zhiyan shot back, smiling. "Search my luggage, review the footage, dig through trash, even strip me. Go ahead."
She even stood, spreading her arms.
Jiang Yi glanced down, meeting her near-embracing stance and her smile that didn’t reach her eyes. He raised a hand, clamped it on her shoulder, and shoved her back into the chair.
The moment he did, his brow twitched. Beyond the warmth of her skin, his first thought was that he’d used too much force—her expression darkened as she landed.
Jiang Yi dismissed the thought, coolly stating, "Bluffing won’t work on me. Years ago, regulations mandated that personal defense tools must meet minimum size requirements and have special coatings for traceability. In theory, your weapon shouldn’t be a collapsible rod. But—"
His hand still pinned her shoulder. "Before those rules, a batch of pseudo-defense tools existed—palm-sized, no traceable coating. Some still circulate, especially in District Sixteen, where security is abysmal."
Lin Zhiyan scowled. "Did you turn off the recordings to sexually harass me?"
Jiang Yi ignored her, continuing, "You might still play dumb. But the victim’s medical report mentions possible electrocution. And coincidentally, those tools have a stun function."
His words were measured, but his hand slid down her shoulder.
Lin Zhiyan gritted her teeth, raising her hand to strike—"What the hell—"
Jiang Yi caught her wrist, leaning down to press his other hand against the inside of her arm. Almost instantly, his fingers brushed something hard, palm-sized. His gaze turned icy. "Keep lying. I’ll have someone inspect what’s strapped here. And just so you know—your movements, locations, and residence have already been searched. Bluffing is pointless."
Lin Zhiyan: "..."
In such a short time, he’d pieced everything together—even predicting she’d carry the weapon to avoid detection. Just how much power did he wield to bypass all barriers this fast?
Could the elites stop playing righteous judge for once?!
Seriously, just let me go!
Fuming internally, Lin Zhiyan kept her composure.
Jiang Yi released his grip, showing little interest in her facade crumbling after being exposed. "Now, explain the sequence of events," he said.
Lin Zhiyan withdrew her hand and met his gaze. "Can’t you figure it out yourself? I didn’t know self-defense counted as a crime."
"You struck him in the head. He’s still in critical condition." Jiang Yi paused, then smirked, his expression laced with disbelief. "Maybe you tried disguising this as a robbery to escape—even took his terminal. But… you even emptied his accounts."
The smirk faded. "This has escalated beyond self-defense."
"Shouldn’t he pay a price?" Lin Zhiyan’s dark eyes held a quiet intensity.
Jiang Yi countered, "You already sent him to the emergency ward."
Lin Zhiyan laughed. "That’s not the price."
She stood, tilting her chin up to face him like a student answering a teacher. "He acted on his intentions. Success or failure—those are just outcomes. Him getting injured by my retaliation is an outcome, not a price. But stripping him of his last penny? That’s the real cost."
Jiang Yi turned to her. "The act being stopped is the outcome. What comes after is revenge, not justice."
Lin Zhiyan circled the interrogation table and sat on the opposite side, leaning back into the chair. "Exactly."
The oversized jacket draped over the chair seemed to swallow her as she settled in.
Jiang Yi’s brow twitched. "You—"
She cut him off, as if she were the one conducting the interrogation.
Lin Zhiyan locked eyes with him. "Fundamentally, he faced zero consequences for attempting to harm me. The worst outcome for him? He fails and walks away. For me? If I don’t fight back, I’m violated. If I do, I might escape—or suffer worse. Where’s the fairness?"
…This was bandit logic.
Jiang Yi exhaled, refusing to debate. "You’re trying to convince me to let you go."
Lin Zhiyan smiled and leaned forward. "Yes."
"Then you shouldn’t argue. I don’t like chatter." Jiang Yi’s voice turned icy. "So you stand by your stance? Refuse to admit guilt?"
"Not guilty." She sank deeper into the chair, oblivious to his jacket beneath her. "My ‘crime’ is lighter than holding an entire airport hostage for an hour. If I’m guilty for acting in self-defense, what does that make you?"
Jiang Yi’s gaze sharpened. "Are you comfortable in my seat? Get up."
Lin Zhiyan didn’t move. "It’s definitely comfier than the suspect’s side."
Amusement flickered in Jiang Yi’s eyes, his lips quirking as if hearing a joke. "So you just lack the power to make hundreds wait for you—not the desire, right?"
His smile carried a haughty elegance, more cutting than his frown. Done with the exchange, he pressed a button. Officers filed in and restrained her.
Jiang Yi grabbed his coat. "Search her. Secure the weapon, finalize the evidence chain, and send the report to me. Then forward it to the committee."
He cast her a dismissive glance. "Congrats on getting into the United Military and Political Academy. Shame you’ll miss the opening ceremony. But consider this your first lesson: learn obedience, drop the sophistry, and remember your place."
What place?
Top scorer in the 16th District’s quadrennial exams? Orphan? School valedictorian? Ex-girlfriend of a criminal? Incoming freshman at the Military-Political Academy? A commoner who tried to out-swindle a swindler and failed? A test-cramming dreamer whose ambitions were crushed by three planes?
This interrogation room wasn’t big enough for all her identities.
Lin Zhiyan should’ve said something poetic—to flaunt her defiance or evoke pity for her lonely struggle. But pride won out. She grinned. "Why bother with the parting shot? Feels like haggling—walking away just to hear me cave and say, ‘Fine, I’ll confess, let’s be friends.’"
Her sharp wit glinted in her eyes, her cold features lit with a smirk that wasn’t bitter but fragile, like embers fighting to stay alive.
…Not what she’d said when playing meek earlier.
Jiang Yi nearly retorted but caught himself. This wasn’t an interrogation; it was a squabble. He turned on his heel and left, his stride effortless, as if strolling through yesterday’s corridor. Behind him, Lin Zhiyan was escorted to the search room.
As two officers prepared to pat her down, she asked softly, "Before we start… can you tell me what happens next?"
One replied, "The evidence chain is solid. Once we confirm the weapon, it’ll be processed, documented, and evaluated for disciplinary action."
"What kind of action?"
"Depends. Minor offenses get community service or academic penalties. Severe ones? Expulsion and criminal charges."
Ah. The privileged get a slap on the wrist; the rest get the gallows. All roads lead to glory.
Lin Zhiyan accepted her fate calmly.
The officer tapped her shoulders. She glanced at the surveillance drone hovering nearby, then spread her arms and turned, like a Jesus figurine missing its cross.
Well. Judas made it into the alumni too.
And no one warned her lunch might be her last. Should’ve eaten more.
