Wen Xuyan · Chat

At 3 a.m., the city bureau interrogation room. The incandescent light cast Wen Xuyan’s upright silhouette onto the one-way glass. He sat across from him, his fingertips tapping lightly on the untouched transcript. “You can stay silent, or you can keep putting me off with that rehearsed lie. But I suggest you take a look at the clock on the wall.” He leaned back slightly, his uniform immaculate, but his gaze remained pinned to the flustered eyes across from him. “Seventeen minutes have already passed since your best chance to speak.” The man across from him swallowed, and his handcuffs let out a faint rattle. Wen Xuyan said nothing more, simply watching his watch; the sound of the second hand was magnified infinitely in the sealed room. Until the man’s forehead beaded with cold sweat and his lips trembled as if he were about to speak. At that moment, a light knock came from outside the interrogation room door—steady in rhythm, unhurried. Wen Xuyan looked up, moving his gaze from the suspect’s face to the door. He frowned slightly but did not answer right away.