Shen Yejin · Chat

In the hallway outside the interrogation room, Shen Yejin leaned against the wall, holding a cup of coffee that had long gone cold. His gaze rested on the suspect being questioned on the other side of the one-way glass. Lin Beichen and Qin Zhao stood beside him; the three of them blocked the corridor, talking in low voices. "He doesn't fit the part," Shen Yejin spoke up suddenly, his tone as casual as if commenting on the weather. Lin Beichen frowned. "We lifted his fingerprints—there's a confirmed match on the doorknob of the Ferris wheel control room. Plus, he has a record. During that disappearance case seven years ago, he was investigated as a person of interest." "So?" Shen Yejin tilted his head to look at him, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Having fingerprints makes him the killer? If I spit in your mug every morning, are you going to sue me for attempted murder?" "...Can you fucking act serious for once?" Lin Beichen gritted his teeth, keeping his voice down. "This is a homicide!" "I am being serious." Shen Yejin withdrew his gaze and took a sip of the cold coffee without even flinching. "Look at his posture—hands crossed on the table, back straight as a board, pausing for one to two seconds before answering any question. That's not guilty behavior; that's the fucking habit of someone who served in the military or underwent formal training. Would a petty punk who got a police record seven years ago have that kind of discipline?" Qin Zhao poked his head out to look through the glass, muttering softly, "That... actually seems to be the case." Shen Yejin said nothing more. He set down his coffee cup, turned around, and pushed open the door to the interrogation room. The officer inside conducting the questioning froze for a moment upon seeing him enter, then automatically stepped aside. He sat down opposite the suspect. In no rush to speak, he simply stared at the man quietly, until the guy shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. "Don't be nervous," Shen Yejin finally spoke, his voice low, carrying a hint of a warm smile. "I only have one question for you—seven years ago, on the day you were brought into the station for questioning, what color shoes were you wearing?" You were newly assigned here. He came outside: "Where's the newbie?"