Shen Wuxiao had no restraint at all.
He lifted his hand and gave Hong Ye a light tap. “You’re so mean. You really called me shameless?”
“Pfft…” Hong Ye almost burst out laughing, but she managed to hold it in.
“I mean, you’re a department director. Coming all the way here to do this kind of thing—did your idiot father send you?” Shen Wuxiao teased.
Hong Ye puffed out her cheeks and glared at him with those bright, beautiful eyes, motioning for him to stop spouting nonsense.
“He’s really a fool. Said I was flirting with you before. I call it—getting close to you,” Shen Wuxiao whispered with a smirk.
His words were too soft for anyone else to hear, but the gentle rustling sound was still noticeable.
Zhou Sheng, seated nearby, grew irritated.
This so-called tea server hadn’t poured a drop for him, and now he was flirting with someone—right inside the interrogation room?
Unforgivable.Zhou Sheng was already in a bad mood, and this was the final straw.
“Stop! That’s enough!” he shouted, his voice loud and authoritative.
Everyone in the room froze—including Lin Fan and Hong Ye.
Zhou Sheng stood abruptly, the chair screeching across the floor behind him. He glared at the man in the mask—Shen Wuxiao—with fire in his eyes.
“This is an interrogation room! Who the hell are you? Whispering during a formal process—do you think this is a joke?”
“Call your director in here right now. I want to see what kind of place allows this behavior!”
With each word, Zhou Sheng slammed his fingers on the desk with force.
Shen Wuxiao, who had been quietly joking with Hong Ye, was suddenly called out. His expression instantly darkened.
He stood up slowly and pointed to himself. “Are you talking to me?”
Zhou Sheng’s scowl deepened. “Who else would I be talking to? Don’t act dumb. Go get your director—now!”
Shen Wuxiao let out a laugh. “Zhao, you’ve got guts.”
Lin Fan’s ears perked up.
That voice… it was all too familiar.
Just as he was about to place it, Shen Wuxiao stepped in front of the interrogation table, his back turned to him, and locked eyes with Zhou Sheng.
“What are you staring at?” Zhou Sheng snapped. “I’ll say it one last time. Bring your superior—immediately!”
But Shen Wuxiao didn’t reply.
He moved in a flash, grabbing Zhou Sheng by the hair and slamming his face down onto the desk.
BANG!
The sound of skull hitting wood echoed through the room.
Zhou Sheng’s face smashed into the table, sharp pain spreading across his cheek and forehead. But Shen Wuxiao wasn’t done. He pressed harder, bending down, whispering into his ear with a wicked grin: “Keep talking.”
Zhou Sheng had never been so humiliated. Blood pounding in his head, he roared, “You’re finished! I’ll make sure you pay dearly for this!”
Assaulting a special investigator—this was enough to land Shen Wuxiao behind bars for a decade.
But Shen Wuxiao only scoffed.
Tsk~
He grabbed a pen from the table and raised it—aiming it straight for Zhou Sheng’s temple!
“Wuxiao, don’t!” Hong Ye rushed forward, grabbing his wrist just in time.
She knew how terrifying Shen Wuxiao’s temper could be. That wasn’t a bluff—if she hadn’t stopped him, that pen would’ve gone through Zhou Sheng’s skull.
It wasn’t worth it.
Hong Ye quickly snatched the pen and dragged him back. “You still haven’t changed your bad habits!”
Her voice carried a trace of anger.
This man was as dangerous as he was devoted. He could be gentle and warm to the people he cared for, but to his enemies? Ruthless didn’t begin to describe it.
Zhou Sheng, now released, staggered back to his feet, drenched in sweat.
He had been so close—he almost wet himself.
For a moment there, he had truly felt death breathing down his neck.
Shaking, he pointed a trembling finger at Shen Wuxiao. “You… how dare you?!”
“What do you think?” Shen Wuxiao sneered—and calmly took off his mask.
A flawless, impossibly handsome face came into view. His expression carried a mocking smirk.
“You…” Zhou Sheng’s voice caught in his throat as he instinctively backed away. His mind went blank.
How could he not recognize this man?
The prince of the Imperial Capital.
For a split second, he doubted his own eyes—until Hong Ye’s earlier words rang in his ears.
“Wuxiao…”
That confirmed it.
Zhou Sheng stammered, “Shen… Young Master Shen…”
His voice trembled, lips dry, and sweat trickled down his back.
“I didn’t expect you to recognize me. I’m honored,” Shen Wuxiao replied with a smile.
“I… I…” Zhou Sheng couldn’t form a full sentence. His body shook like a leaf in a storm.
Only now did he realize how stupid he’d been.
If Hong Ye hadn’t intervened, he wouldn’t even be alive to regret it. Shen Wuxiao could’ve killed him, and no one would’ve said a word.
“By the way,” Shen Wuxiao added with mock admiration, “you did a great job during the interrogation. Very professional. Very loyal.”
“You kept trying to clear Lin Fan’s name and blame me instead.”
Then, his smile widened as he turned to Lin Fan—who sat in the interrogation chair, stunned.
Their eyes met.
Shen Wuxiao took a few leisurely steps forward, stopping right in front of him. He leaned on the small metal desk, grinning.
“Brother Lin Fan, we meet again.”
“Shen Wuxiao…” Lin Fan growled, teeth clenched, his hatred boiling over.
“Yep. That’s right this time. Don’t call me Brother Sikong anymore,” Shen Wuxiao chuckled.
“Shen Wuxiao, you’ll die a horrible death!” Lin Fan roared, eyes bloodshot.
All the memories came flooding back—his brother’s death, being deceived like a fool, Jiang Huaiyue taken from him—rage filled every inch of his soul.
“Die miserably? Maybe in a few hundred years,” Shen Wuxiao said casually, pulling out a cigarette and placing it in Lin Fan’s mouth.
Lin Fan spat it out immediately.
Shen Wuxiao didn’t mind. He lit one for himself, took a long drag, and blew the smoke straight into Lin Fan’s face.
The insult couldn’t have been more direct.
“Brother Lin Fan, I know you’re angry, full of questions. Let’s settle everything right here.”
At his words, Hong Ye glanced toward the one-way mirror and gave a signal.
Ye Jiancheng, watching from outside, instantly understood.
“Cut all video and audio feeds. Everyone, clear out!”
The command was carried out immediately. No one dared stay.
Some things were not meant to be heard—and those who heard too much often died faster.
Shen Wuxiao didn’t care either way. He turned back to Lin Fan.
“You must be wondering how your brother died… and where the body is.”
He raised his fist and mimed a strike.
“His neck was snapped underfoot. Then he was beaten to death—blow after blow.”
“His skull? Shattered.”
“And before he died, he kept screaming—” Shen Wuxiao imitated a pitiful voice, “Brother, help me! It hurts! I don’t want to die!”
Then he burst out laughing.
“Ha! Hahahahaha!”
His wild laughter echoed in the room. It was arrogant, cruel—inhuman.
“Shen Wuxiao, you bastard!” Lin Fan roared, trembling all over. The fury, the hatred—he could barely keep himself from lunging forward.
He wanted to kill him. Tear him apart.
But not yet.
He didn’t know where his brother’s body was. He had to wait.
He had to endure… for now.