In the fiery red era of the heavens, refrigerators are refreshed daily.

Chapter 156, page 155: Refusal to Confess, a New Breakthrough, Psychological Tactics, The Dust Settles.

As dawn broke, the November chill in Shanghai, like a damp cloth wrapped in ice shards, seeped in everywhere.

Yang Guangming wrapped his slightly worn navy blue youth suit tighter around his waist. He silently followed the flow of people going to work and entered the huge, rusty iron gate of the Hongxing State-owned Cotton Mill.

The terrifying fire the night before last, the flames that illuminated half the sky, now seem like nothing more than a small pebble thrown into a deep pool.

The water surface rippled violently for a moment, then quickly subsided into its inherent calm, leaving only an indescribable turbidity beneath the surface.

The workers' faces appeared blurry and weary in the dim morning light and the noise of the machines. They walked hurriedly, the rustling sound of their rubber shoes scraping against the cement floor blending together.

Yang Guangming did not turn towards the familiar factory office building as usual.

Deputy Factory Director Zhao Guodong was still suspended from work. When his secretary arrived, he could only stare blankly at the empty table, the cold enamel mug, and the documents covered in a thin layer of dust.

That invisible pressure hangs over your head, and the longer it drags on, the heavier the pressure becomes.

His steps naturally turned towards the edge of the factory area. There stood a solitary two-story red brick building, its walls mottled and its windows small, like a silent, crouching beast.

That was the security office; several bicycles covered in mud and dust were parked in the open space in front of the building.

With something on his mind, he quickened his pace.

Yang Guangming considered himself fairly optimistic, and he had faith in Wang Weidong's abilities. Wang Weidong was a man who had crawled out of piles of corpses on the battlefield, like a piece of hard steel repeatedly tempered by war, sharp-edged and unyielding.

The chain of evidence is so clear—the burned warehouse, the stolen money, the scene of catching Kuang Juncai red-handed—that it is an undeniable fact that he embezzled the goods.

Arson to cover up the crime? The motive is obvious.

After a whole night of interrogation, even if Kuang Juncai was as stubborn as iron, surely a crack should have been broken under the iron grip of the security department, right? He needed this confession, and Zhao Guodong needed it even more. These confessions were key to clearing his name and breaking the deadlock.

The atmosphere in the security office building was even more stagnant than yesterday, with a thick, unyielding smell of smoke and the lingering stench of staying up all night.

The corridor was dimly lit, with only a low-wattage incandescent light bulb casting a dim yellow halo in the murky air.

Wang Weidong's section chief office had its door wide open, but it was empty. Only the enamel ashtray on the desk, piled high with cigarette butts, silently testified to its owner's anxiety.

Without stopping, Yang Guangming went straight up to the second floor.

The second-floor corridor was darker and quieter, and the door at the end with its thick iron railings was tightly shut.

He knew the rules. He wasn't a security officer, and even if he had some connection with Wang Weidong, he shouldn't have barged into the interrogation area at this time.

He stopped in his tracks and stood at the other end of the corridor, near the stairwell, leaning against the cold wall, his eyes scanning the surroundings to see if anyone was coming out.

Just two minutes after I stood still, the tightly closed iron door creaked open with a rough, scraping sound.

Zhang Qiang dragged his weary steps out, gently closing the door behind him with a slow, deliberate movement, as if he had exhausted all his strength.

His eyes were sunken, like two hollowed-out holes filled with spiderweb-like red blood vessels. His chin was stubbled, with dark bluish stubble peeking out, making his cheeks appear even thinner.

The dark blue protective uniform was wrinkled like pickled vegetables, with several dark gray stains on the cuffs and front.

He exuded an exhaustion that seemed to have completely drained his energy, as if he hadn't just been staying up all night, but had actually burned his very bones.

He looked up and saw the bright sunlight in the shadows. His bloodshot eyes widened for a moment, then he quickly walked over, his steps unsteady.

"Officer Zhang, you've worked hard." Yang Guangming took two steps forward to greet him, skipping the small talk.

Zhang Qiang raised his rough hands and vigorously wiped his face. He let out a heavy sigh from deep within his chest, a sigh that was heavy and hoarse, torn apart by staying up all night, and filled with a deep sense of frustration.

"Ugh, don't even mention it. I stayed up all night, the eagle's practically died of exhaustion, but that bastard's beak was still like a welded iron gate! I couldn't pry it open, I just couldn't pry it open!"

His accent was heavier with fatigue, and tinged with resentment.

Yang Guangming's heart skipped a beat, as if a stone had fallen, but he maintained a calm expression: "Still refusing to admit arson?" He asked directly, as this was the most crucial question.

"He's a cunning old fox!"

Zhang Qiang's voice suddenly rose, tinged with resentment and frustration, but then, realizing the situation, he lowered his voice again:
"He spilled the beans about stealing cloth! The list of his accomplices, how many bolts of cloth he had stolen over the years, how he transported and sold the stolen goods, how the money was divided—he told us everything clearly, as if he was afraid we would miscalculate!"

He scratched his already messy hair in frustration, "But when it comes to that fire..."

He shook his head, his lips curling downwards. "It's always the same few phrases over and over again! 'Aging wires,' 'accidental short circuit,' 'God is blind!' And he's still yelling about wanting to see his brother-in-law, Factory Director Dou, and keeps proclaiming his innocence!"

Section Chief Wang's voice was hoarse from talking so much; he laid out a whole bunch of reasons, resorting to threats and bribes, but it was no use! This bastard is like a rock in a latrine, stinking and hard!

Yang Guangming's heart sank little by little, sinking into the cold abyss.

Kuang Juncai readily admitted to stealing the cloth? This was hardly a surprise, or even an unexpected turn of events.

The evidence is irrefutable. The stolen money was seized yesterday, and there are both witnesses and physical evidence. Denying it is meaningless, and admitting guilt is just going with the flow.

What he cared about was the fire that destroyed Warehouse No. 6 and nearly killed Zhao Guodong!

That was the real, deadly sword hanging over Zhao Guodong and himself.

The night passed without resolution... Time slipped away like sand through fingers. The longer it dragged on, the more room Dou Honglang, that deeply entrenched tiger who had been entrenched in the factory for years, would have to maneuver. The biggest fear now is uncontrollable variables.

"Section Chief Wang, he..." Yang Guangming had just opened his mouth, wanting to ask about Wang Weidong's situation.

The heavy iron door to the interrogation room creaked open again.

Wang Weidong's tall figure appeared at the doorway, like a dusty iron tower.

He's no better than Zhang Qiang, and perhaps even worse.

His face was ashen, and his lips were cracked and peeling. His eyes, which were usually as sharp as a hawk's, were now filled with dense blood vessels, like a bow stretched to its limit, ready to snap at any moment.

An intense weariness seemed to seep from every pore of his body.

He saw the bright sunlight in the corridor, his bloodshot eyes flickered, and a slight smile appeared on his face.

He raised his hand and waved at them, his movements somewhat stiff, his voice hoarse as if sandpaper were rubbing against rough wood: "Zhang Qiang, go take a break, drink some strong tea to refresh yourself, and let Xiao Chen come in and take over for a while."

Zhang Qiang felt as if he had been granted a pardon. He let out a long sigh of relief, replied "Yes, Section Chief," and dragged his leaden legs downstairs with heavy steps, his back exuding a sense of exhaustion.

Yang Guangming followed Wang Weidong into the section chief's office.

The office was small and simply furnished. There was an old desk with peeling paint, a few gleaming wooden chairs, and a green metal filing cabinet in the corner.

The most conspicuous thing was the huge enamel ashtray on the table, which was filled with cigarette butts that were almost overflowing, and the strong smell of smoke was foul and pungent.

Wang Weidong didn't say anything, or even look at Yang Ming. He opened the drawer, took out a crumpled pack of "Pegasus" cigarettes, and put one in his mouth.

He took out a match, lit it, and took a deep, forceful drag. Pale blue smoke instantly rose and enveloped his tired and tense face.

Then, he exhaled a long, resonant breath, the smoke billowing as if he were forcibly expelling all the pent-up frustration, defeat, and immense pressure from the previous night.

Yang Guangming sat down quietly on the wooden chair opposite the desk, without rushing to ask any questions.

The only sounds in the office were Wang Weidong's heavy, suppressed breathing, the faint hissing of burning tobacco, and the monotonous ticking of the old-fashioned clock on the wall.

Silence, like a tangible thing, weighed heavily on the two of them, filled with anxiety and an indescribable heaviness.

After a long while, when the cigarette was almost burned out, Wang Weidong finally raised his bloodshot eyes and looked at Yang Guangming.

His eyes were incredibly complex; beneath the heavy weariness surged a strong sense of resentment, but even more so, a deep and indescribable shame.

He opened his mouth, his chapped lips twitched, and he made a dry sound:
"Guangming... has disappointed you, Secretary Tian, ​​and Deputy Factory Director Zhao."

He paused, his fingers unconsciously twisting the cigarette that was almost burning down to the filter, ash falling in a flurry.

"Yesterday... thanks to you, you reminded me about the hidden compartment in the furniture. If it weren't for you, we would have missed it!"
Thanks to your reminder, we finally got off to a good start, catching the suspect red-handed. I... I really thought the case was in the bag.

He gave a self-deprecating twitch, a bitter smile more painful than a grimace. "I swore an oath to Secretary Tian, ​​patting my chest and making a solemn promise... I patted it so hard! But this..."

He pointed towards the interrogation room, his voice filled with helplessness, "In one night, we only managed to get solid evidence of him stealing cloth and arrest a few small fry."

The crucial spark...didn't ignite. Not even a spark was pried out! My face..."

He slapped his cheek hard, making a crisp sound.

Yang Guangming already knew the result from Zhang Qiang, but hearing it from Wang Weidong himself made the feeling even more real and heavy.

He understood Wang Weidong's situation and the pressure he was under.

This is not just a case, but a political power struggle that concerns Zhao Guodong's political life and may even affect the delicate power balance within the factory.

He shook his head, trying to keep his tone calm: "Section Chief Wang, you've done your best. Everyone has seen it. Kuang Juncai is the kind of person who won't shed tears until he's faced with death. He knows perfectly well that admitting to arson means certain death, so naturally he'll fight to the bitter end."

Training a hawk... is a clumsy method, but right now, it's the safest and most foolproof one.

He changed the subject, his brows furrowing slightly, and pointed out the most pressing concern, "But we can't afford to waste time. Director Dou... won't just sit idly by."

"I know!"

Wang Weidong interrupted irritably, as if his most sensitive spot had been touched. He took another deep drag of his cigarette, the embers burning rapidly and brightening, reflecting the suppressed flames in his eyes.

"Damn it, I wish I could... I wish I could use some tricks on him!"

But Secretary Tian has given strict orders; the red line cannot be crossed! We can only endure this and see how long that bastard can hold out!

His bloodshot eyes were fixed on Yang Guangming, filled with anxiety and a glimmer of hope that he himself was unaware of, like a drowning person grasping at the last straw.

"Guangming, you're quick-witted, resourceful, and full of ideas. If it weren't for you yesterday..."

Now, do you have any other ideas? Or... have you discovered any new clues? Tell us, let's discuss it! We're giving it a shot, no doubt about it!

He stubbed out his cigarette hard in the already overburdened ashtray.

Yang Guangming pondered for a moment.

He didn't have any brilliant ideas that immediately came to mind. Interrogation was the specialty of the security department, and as a factory office secretary, he could only offer limited solutions.

But his years of work experience have taught him that breakthroughs often lie in the most inconspicuous details, requiring one to carefully sort through existing information, much like combing one's hair.

"Section Chief Wang, may I take a look at the interrogation files from last night? Especially the statements of those accomplices. Maybe... we can piece something together."

"Row!"

Without hesitation, Wang Weidong seemed to have grasped a direction for action. He immediately stood up, the movement causing the chair legs to scrape against the floor with a screeching sound.

He walked a few steps to the door, opened it, and called out into the hallway, his voice regaining its usual penetrating quality, though still hoarse:
"Zhang Qiang! Bring me all the interrogation records of Kuang Juncai and his accomplices from last night! Hurry up!"

Soon, Zhang Qiang came in carrying a thick stack of files that smelled of ink. He carefully placed them on Wang Weidong's desk, then silently withdrew and gently closed the door behind him.

Without any hesitation, Yang Guangming picked up the top file with the name "Kuang Juncai" on the cover and quickly began to flip through it.

The rustling sound of papers turning over was particularly clear in the quiet office.

He read very quickly, his gaze like a searchlight, calmly sweeping over the lines of text, some messy and some neat.

Kuang Juncai's own testimony insisted that the fire was an accident, which was logically coherent but felt deliberately stiff.

The testimonies of several accomplices—Li Ergou, Liu Asi, and Wang Mazi—mainly focused on the details of how they assisted Kuang Juncai in stealing cloth, using the night shift as cover to transport it, contacting the black market to sell the stolen goods, and finally dividing the spoils. The process was described in great detail, with the amount, time, and location clearly stated.

When asked about arson, they either gave vague answers, claiming ignorance, or said that the warehouse's electrical circuits were old and the accident was not surprising; they went on and on, but their claims were of little value, and they were all trying their best to distance themselves from the fire.

Yang Guangming's gaze froze as he turned to Liu Asi's statement. The statement was written in blue-black ink, and the handwriting was somewhat crooked.

One of the questions caught his attention:

[Q: Besides stealing and selling fabric, what other unusual expenses or behaviors does Kuang Juncai exhibit? For example, does he suddenly become extravagant? Or does he frequently go to places he shouldn't?]

[Answer: ...After he loosened up his belt, he became a bit... um... careless about his behavior. His wife, Mu Qiuxiang, gave birth to four girls in a row, and still doesn't have a son. It seems he has a mistress outside...]

Yang Guangming's spirits lifted, and he tapped the text with his finger, leaning slightly forward as he continued reading intently:

[Q: Your lover? What's their name? Where are they from? What do they do? Be clear! Don't beat around the bush!]

Answer: I think her name is Zhuang Xiaoyu. She also works at our factory, in the fine spinning workshop.

Sigh, she's a woman with a tragic fate. A few years ago, her husband was injured at work in the cotton cleaning workshop. He was caught in a machine, survived, but was paralyzed in bed.

There's also a paralyzed grandmother at home, and three little ones to take care of... the oldest is only ten years old, right? Life is so hard, they only dare to get the cheapest dishes at the cafeteria.

Kuang Juncai had money, and since she was decent-looking, he probably... hooked up with her. Sometimes he'd give her money, sometimes... food coupons, cloth coupons, and things like that.

Q: How do you know this so clearly?

[Answer: Well, once... once he got drunk at a small restaurant outside the factory, and he... Kuang Juncai let it slip while bragging... emboldened by the alcohol, he was quite smug... and even said... that Zhuang Xiaoyu later... later she had another son, you know, if you calculate the time... hehe...]

[Q: Get to the point! What son? What happened to the time?]

Answer: Well... after Zhuang Xiaoyu's husband became paralyzed... about a year later, she gave birth to a boy, who is now... about three years old, right? He's quite chubby-cheeked.

We all privately...privately we all guessed, maybe...hehe, maybe it's Kuang Juncai's bastard child...otherwise, with her man like that, how could she...right?

Yang Guangming's eyes suddenly lit up, like a spark suddenly flashing across the dark night, instantly dispelling the fog before his eyes. He quickly closed the file, raised his head, and stared intently at the person opposite him. Wang Weidong was taking one puff after another of his newly lit cigarette, his brows furrowed into a deep knot, almost locked together.

"Section Chief Wang." Yang Guangming's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a piercing, confident quality that broke the silence in the office. "The breakthrough... has been found!"

Wang Weidong suddenly looked up, his bloodshot eyes instantly focusing, like two searchlights suddenly turned on, fixed on Yang Guangming's face: "Where?" He leaned forward, almost standing up.

Yang Guangming pushed the case file in front of Wang Weidong, his finger precisely pointing to the paragraph of Liu Asi's confession about Zhuang Xiaoyu and the three-year-old boy.

"Look here! Think of Mu Qiuxiang!" He uttered the name clearly, word by word.

"Mu Qiuxiang?" Wang Weidong was taken aback. He quickly looked down at the few lines of text, his mind racing, but he couldn't quite grasp the key point.

"Her? Isn't she locked up? She was so cowardly when they searched her house yesterday, she was so scared she almost wet her pants. She shook her head at every question and didn't know anything..." His impression of Mu Qiuxiang was still that of a timid, cowardly housewife who only knew how to cry.

"It's her!"

Yang Guangming leaned slightly forward, speaking clearly and forcefully, each word like a hammer striking the mark.

"Section Chief Wang, think about it. Mu Qiuxiang gave birth to four daughters in a row. In the Kuang family, which favors sons over daughters, especially in front of Kuang Juncai and his snobbish mother, how could she hold her head high all these years? How deep is this thorn in her heart? What does she care about most? What does she hate the most?" He guided Wang Weidong's thoughts.

Wang Weidong, having been through it all, knows all too well how much pressure a woman faces in this era if she cannot give birth to a son.

As soon as the sunlight brightened, his eyes widened instantly, and he slapped his thigh: "You mean... your son? And Kuang Juncai has a bastard child outside? And that bastard child is a boy!"

"Correct!"

Yang Guangming nodded firmly, his thoughts becoming clearer and smoother. "If we tell her that Kuang Juncai not only kept a woman outside, but also had a son with her!"

Moreover, according to Zhuang Xiaoyu's 'confession'—note that we can say it was Zhuang Xiaoyu's 'confession'—Kuang Juncai had long promised her that all his belongings would be left to her and her son!
What do you think Mu Qiuxiang will think?

He paused, letting the cruel hypothetical scenario ferment in Wang Weidong's mind, "Why did she guard that home, guard the stolen money and cloth coupons, save every penny, and live in constant fear?"
In the end, she discovered that all of this was likely just a stepping stone for that other woman and that bastard child!

She resented not having a son her whole life, only to find out her husband had a son outside the marriage and wanted to take all the family property away!

Wang Weidong gasped, forgetting to flick the ash from his cigarette, letting the long strands of ash fall onto his dark blue trousers.

He completely understood Yang Guangming's intention—to win people's hearts!
Use a woman's deepest fears, most painful scars, and strongest resentments to completely break down her psychological defenses!

This is more deadly than any harsh method of training a hawk!

"Wonderful!"

Wang Weidong couldn't help but let out a low shout, his eyes blazing with the intense light ignited by the new idea. The fatigue of the night seemed to have been largely dispelled by this powerful stimulant, and he even straightened his back a bit.

"Guangming! Your brain... is absolutely amazing! You're incredibly perceptive and hit the nail on the head! That's hitting the nail on the head!" He rubbed his hands excitedly, as if he could already see Mu Qiuxiang's collapse.

Yang Guangming calmly continued to refine the strategy: "Simply stimulating her isn't enough. We need to give her a 'ladder'."

Tell her clearly that she is an insider of Kuang Juncai's embezzlement, and may even have participated in the sale and concealment of stolen goods and money, which makes it impossible to clarify her guilt.

But the policy is clear—reporting crimes, especially serious ones like arson, can lead to leniency!
This is her only chance to reduce her sentence!

He paused, his tone carrying a calm insight into human nature, "Husbands and wives are like birds in the same forest; when disaster strikes, they fly away separately. Moreover, after learning the truth, she probably already hates Kuang Juncai to the core! It's most suitable for her to ignite this 'fire'! And it's also the most satisfying to do so!"

Wang Weidong slammed his hand on the table excitedly, and with a muffled "bang," the ash piled up in the ashtray jumped up.

"Let's do it this way! I'll personally interrogate Mu Qiuxiang!"

He suddenly stood up, like a lion that had been revitalized, and paced back and forth in the small office, his leather shoes making a powerful echo on the cement floor.

He walked around twice, then stopped, a hint of hesitation flashing across his face as he looked at Yang Guangming:
“That Zhuang Xiaoyu… I looked into her yesterday. She is indeed a pitiful person. Her whole family depends on her to support them. She is not directly involved in the cloth theft or arson case, so we didn’t touch her.”

Now... if Mu Qiuxiang only listens to what we say, and that's not exciting enough, and she won't budge... then we can only..."

He gritted his teeth, his jaw tightened, and a resolute determination flashed in his eyes. "We have no choice but to 'invite' her here too! A face-to-face confrontation will be much more effective! Let her embellish Kuang Juncai's promises herself! I'm not afraid Mu Qiuxiang won't believe it!"

Yang Guangming nodded understandingly. He knew Wang Weidong's concerns and understood that this was the most effective solution.

"Section Chief Wang, in extraordinary times, extraordinary measures must be taken."

Zhuang Xiaoyu is pitiful, but the bigger picture is more important, and besides, she is not innocent either.

As long as Kuang Juncai's arson case remains unsolved, Deputy Factory Director Zhao Guodong cannot clear his name, and the mess in the factory will never be clean. However…

He added, with an understanding of human nature, "I believe that perhaps it won't have to come to that. The resentment in Mu Qiuxiang's heart only needs a spark to start a prairie fire. The spark we provided was bright enough."

"Okay! I'll make arrangements right away!"

Wang Weidong no longer hesitated; decisiveness was his true nature.

He grabbed the old, black hand-cranked telephone on the table, cranked the handle vigorously until it buzzed, and then quickly dialed a few internal numbers. His voice regained its usual calm and authoritative tone, carrying a do-or-die determination:
"Hello! It's me, Wang Weidong. ...Yes, bring Mu Qiuxiang from detention cell number one to interrogation cell number two. ...Hmm, you can comfort her and give her a cup of hot water. ...I'll be right there. Also..."

He lowered his voice, speaking in a commanding tone, "That female worker in the spinning workshop named Zhuang Xiaoyu... yes, the one whose man is paralyzed."

"Immediately send two people on bicycles to keep watch near her house. Don't alert her for now, await my further instructions! Report back immediately! Understand?"

With a "click," he slammed the telephone receiver shut.

After hanging up the phone, Wang Weidong nodded vigorously to Yang Guangming, his eyes filled with determination and a hint of gratitude:

"Guangming, you just wait here for news! If it succeeds, I'll give you the credit!"

After saying that, he straightened his wrinkled dark blue security uniform, straightened his back which was slightly hunched from staying up all night, and strode out of the door. His heavy footsteps thudded in the empty corridor before quickly fading into the distance.

The office door was closed, shutting out the sounds from the corridor.

Suddenly, only Yang Guangming was left in the room. The heavy smell of smoke in the air seemed to have lessened a bit, but the invisible pressure did not dissipate.

He picked up the white enamel mug on the table, which had many chips on it and contained boiled water that had long since cooled down, and took a big gulp.

The cool liquid slid down my dry throat, bringing a brief, stimulating sense of clarity.

He sat back down in the wooden chair, closed his eyes, and leaned back slightly against the cool chair back. His fingers unconsciously tapped lightly on his knees, making a barely audible tapping sound, as his mind raced, rehearsing the possible scenarios that might occur on Wang Weidong's side and simulating Mu Qiuxiang's possible reactions.

At critical moments, only success is allowed; failure is not an option!

Zhao Guodong's innocence may be decided in that interrogation room number two.

Time passes minute by minute.

The old-fashioned wall clock, its red second hand moving one tick at a time, made a monotonous but regular "tick-tock" sound, which was particularly clear in the silence.

Yang Guangming didn't look at his watch, but his nerves were like taut strings, feeling the weight of every second.

Occasionally, the sound of security officers rushing past could be heard from outside the corridor. Each sound, coming closer and then receding, made his heart skip a beat. He subconsciously held his breath and listened intently to see if it was Wang Weidong returning.

Not every single time.

I don't know how much time passed. Maybe half an hour, maybe longer. Sunlight streamed through the dusty glass window, casting slanted bands of light on the concrete floor, the position of which kept moving forward.

The office door was suddenly pushed open! The door slammed against the wall with a loud bang!
Wang Weidong burst in, his face no longer showing the previous solemnity, exhaustion, and ashen complexion, but rather a flushed redness that was a mixture of extreme excitement, disbelief, and the release of immense pressure. Fine beads of sweat glistened on his forehead and the tip of his nose in the dim light.

He rushed to his desk and slammed his hands down on it, making the enamel mug, pen, and files on the desk jump and make a jumbled noise.

His eyes were frighteningly bright, still bloodshot, but the light shone with a burning, ecstatic joy.
"Guangming! It's done! It's fucking done! Your method... is amazing!"

His voice was hoarse, yet it was full of explosive power.

He was so excited that he was almost incoherent. He grabbed a half-empty glass of cold water that someone had left on the table, not caring whose glass it was, and gulped it down. The icy water dripped down his chin and onto the front of his dark blue uniform, soaking a small patch, but he didn't care at all.

He wiped his mouth haphazardly with the back of his hand, his chest heaving violently.

"Mu Qiuxiang... that woman, at first she was stubborn and pretended to be stupid, with her head down, twisting the hem of her clothes with her fingers, and no matter what she asked, she would say 'I don't know' or 'I'm not clear'."

Wang Weidong was breathing heavily, speaking rapidly, as if the scene would disappear if he didn't finish quickly:

"I know that Kuang Juncai has a woman outside, a beautiful young female worker in the spinning workshop named Zhuang Xiaoyu, and the two of them even have a son who is over three years old this year. He looks like Kuang Juncai with a chubby face..."

These things are exaggerated and embellished!
The emphasis was placed on the fact that Kuang Juncai had long ago promised that all his possessions would be left to Zhuang Xiaoyu and her son!

Wang Weidong smiled and said, "You didn't see her face. It turned white in an instant, whiter than paper used for wallpapering!"
His eyes were so wide they looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets! His lips were trembling, and he couldn't utter a single word. He just stared straight at me with that look in his eyes…

Wang Weidong rubbed his face vigorously, as if trying to wipe away the chilling resentment that suddenly erupted in Mu Qiuxiang's eyes. "Like a poisoned knife! It can cut a piece of flesh out of a person!"

He took a deep breath and continued, "I'll strike while the iron is hot and explain the policies on reporting and lenient treatment to her in detail!"
Tell her that Kuang Juncai's theft of the cloth is a certainty, and that as a family member who knew about it, she is guilty of covering up and harboring stolen goods!
However, if someone actively reports a serious crime like arson, it would be considered a major act of meritorious service!
Secretary Tian and the factory committee will definitely consider giving her leniency! This is her only chance to reduce her sentence and save her four daughters' lives!

Wang Weidong's voice carried a cold allure, "She...she stood there, frozen like a wooden stake, for several minutes straight."

The interrogation room was eerily quiet, except for the sound of her heavy breathing.

Suddenly, she... she started howling! Not crying, but howling! Like a mother wolf cornered!
They called Kuang Juncai inhuman, a beast! They called Zhuang Xiaoyu a vixen, a wicked spirit! They called that bastard a debt collector…

Wang Weidong's eyes turned sharp and cold, with the sense of control of a hunter watching his prey finally fall into the trap. "That resentment and malice...it gave me the creeps."

"After she finished wailing, she slumped in the chair as if all her strength had been drained, staring blankly at the ceiling, muttering, 'I'll talk... I'll talk... I'll tell you everything...' Her voice was so soft and faint, as if it came from underground."

Yang Guangming's heart leaped into his throat, and he leaned forward involuntarily: "She said it? About arson?"

"said!"

Wang Weidong's voice was resolute, carrying a sense of relief, as if a huge weight had been lifted from the shoulders of an animal.

She said that the fire in warehouse number six was started by Kuang Juncai himself! It wasn't due to old wiring at all!

It was he himself who, on the night shift the day before the fire, took advantage of the fact that no one was in the warehouse and used the pliers he brought to deliberately peel off a large section of the insulation of an old, brittle wire in the innermost corner of the warehouse!

They even gathered some scrap cotton yarn, stained with machine oil, and wrapped it around the exposed copper wire! They were just waiting for a short circuit and a fire to start when no one was around in the middle of the night!
He had timed it perfectly, planning to burn the remaining cloth and completely cover up the huge hole in the accounts!

No one knew! That bastard, he's utterly vicious!

Wang Weidong cursed through gritted teeth.

Yang Guangming let out a long sigh of relief, his tense shoulders and back finally relaxing, and a warm current dispelled the coldness in his limbs.

Become!

The most crucial link has been connected!

As Kuang Juncai's wife with whom he spent every day, Mu Qiuxiang's personal testimony is the most powerful and irrefutable nail in sealing the arson case!
Her testimony is more devastating than any physical evidence or corroborating testimony from any accomplice!

The gloom hanging over Zhao Guodong's head is finally about to dissipate!

"Where is Kuang Juncai? Does he know that his wife sold him?" Yang Guangming pressed, his voice tinged with urgency.

"Hey!"

Wang Weidong sneered, a hint of pleasure flashing in his eyes. He pulled up a chair and sat down heavily, as if he had unloaded a huge burden.

“When we threw Mu Qiuxiang’s signed and fingerprinted confession—in black and white, with her red handprint—in front of Kuang Juncai, you didn’t see the horrible look on his face!”

He still remembers Kuang Juncai's expression at the time: his eyes were unfocused and his face was ashen.

"Kuang Juncai completely collapsed! He was like a lump of mud! He slumped in the chair, his eyes wouldn't move, staring blankly at the statement, as if he couldn't read anymore!"

After a long pause, as if his soul had been ripped from his body, he muttered, "That stupid woman... that spendthrift stupid woman..." and then...

Wang Weidong slammed his hand on the table. "He confessed everything! He described exactly how he stripped the wires, what type of pliers he used, how he wrapped them with oily cotton yarn, what time he sneaked back to the duty room to pretend to be asleep, and what time he heard the noise and ran out to 'put out the fire.' He even told us how fast his heart was beating at the time! All the details match up perfectly!"

Wang Weidong slammed his fist heavily into his palm, producing a dull thud.
"An ironclad case! This time it's truly an ironclad case!"

The arson motive, witness testimonies, physical evidence, confessions, and details of the crime are all there!
Let's see how Dou Honglang can still act so arrogantly! How he can still protect this scoundrel of a brother-in-law!

His eyes were filled with undisguised admiration and sincere gratitude as he looked at Guangming. "Guangming, this time... it's all thanks to you!"
Seriously! If you hadn't been quick-witted and thought of Mu Qiuxiang, we'd still be stuck in this rut! Maybe he really would have pulled through!
Your brain works faster than a bearing! I, Old Wang... am impressed!

He reached out his large hand and patted Yang Guangming's shoulder forcefully.

A relieved smile appeared on Yang Guangming's face; a huge weight had finally been lifted from his heart.

He didn't take credit, but sincerely said, "Section Chief Wang, it was your hard work in the interrogation that allowed me to grasp the key clues and give me the opportunity to think of this."

I was just offering a suggestion. As long as the case is solved and the truth comes out, that's good. And Deputy Factory Director Zhao will be completely exonerated too.

"Yes! You're innocent!"

Wang Weidong's spirits lifted, his fatigue vanished, and he picked up the phone receiver, his dialing motion unusually firm and powerful.

He cranked the handle, a buzzer sounded, and then clearly dialed the number for Secretary Tian's office.

As Wang Weidong, in a powerful and confident voice, reported to Secretary Tian on the phone about Mu Qiuxiang's astonishing testimony and the details of Kuang Juncai's final confession, Yang Guangming walked to the window.

Outside the window, the early winter morning sun finally pierced through the clouds and the dust of the factory area. Although it still carried a chill, it was much brighter, shining obliquely on the mottled walls of the red brick building and also on his face.

This storm, which began with flames in the warehouse, has finally torn away the thickest gloom.

The dust is about to settle.

(End of this chapter)