Chapter 363: Interrogation

The Yi Yuan corridor was filled with a mixed scent of disinfectant and faint blood.

Pale white light shone on the bare concrete wall, reflecting trembling, anxious silhouettes.

The emergency room door was tightly shut, and the red light above blazed glaringly.

Li Ping'an leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed, his expression as calm as iron.

A craving for a cigarette rose, but he only let his Adam's apple twitch slightly, suppressing the impulse.

Chen Jianghe hurried down from the stairwell, his footsteps echoing through the spacious corridor.

"How's it going?" Li Ping'an asked, his voice a bit hoarse.

"Temporarily stable." Chen Jianghe wiped sweat from his forehead, his face uneasy; he had lost too much blood, the wound was deep, hitting vessels and tendons. The doctor said that a few minutes later, or if he stopped the bleeding improperly, the leg wouldn't be saved and his life would be at risk.

"And now?"

The anesthesia hasn't worn off; he's still unconscious. The doctor said that if he can survive tonight's infection and hemorrhagic shock, his life should be saved. But the leg… might be crippled afterward.

Li Ping'an fell silent for a moment.

Limping is still better than dead.

Xu Damao's life has been rescued.

The price is a leg and an unforeseen disaster.

"He brought it on himself," Chen Jianghe added in a low voice, his tone complex, with a hint of frustration at iron that won't become steel, and a trace of lingering fear.

If Li Ping'an hadn't arrived in time, Xu Damao would now be a cold corpse.

"What about Lao Sun Tou?" Li Ping'an asked.

Wang Dahu handled the interrogation himself. Chen Jianghe lowered his voice; that old fellow was very stubborn, and after waking pretended to be clueless, claiming he was just watching the bathhouse, saw Xu Damao sneaking in, thought he was a thief, and acted in a moment of panic. As for anything else, he answered with "I don't know" to every question.

"What about the items in the bathhouse's storage room?"

That set of work clothes and shoes, their size and style were ordinary; many workers in the factory had them. The rations and water bore no special markings.

The empty Wooden Box and the powder inside have been sent for analysis. Most crucially, at the bottom of the cloth‑wrapped bundle, a small item was discovered.

Chen Jianghe carefully fished from his chest a small object wrapped in a clean handkerchief.

It was a button.

Made of copper, its design was antiquated, the edges slightly worn, and the back bore fine, hand‑carved, vine‑like patterns.

It wasn't a common style.

Li Ping'an took the button, holding it up to the light for a close look.

The pattern was distinctive, unlike mass‑produced machine work.

It seemed like a personal mark, or perhaps… a token?

Before losing consciousness, Xu Damao said he had seen Lao Sun Tou speaking with that woman from the library, Su Xiulan. Li Ping'an tucked the button away, asking how Su Xiulan was now.

"She's still under control, her emotions unstable," Chen Jianghe replied, without mentioning Lao Sun Tou.

Perhaps she doesn't know Lao Sun Tou's true identity, only that she was contacted.

Or perhaps she knows but dares not speak.

Li Ping'an nodded.

When Xu Damao wakes, they'll ask immediately.

Also, inform Sun, we need to merge the cases, focusing on the button's origin and Lao Sun Tou's full background, especially his life before and early after the Liberation. He's just a bathhouse gatekeeper—where does he get such skill and ferocity?

Chen Jianghe took the order and left.

Li Ping'an remained leaning against the wall, his gaze fixed on the emergency room door.

Xu Damao…

This guy who never gets anything done and only creates trouble, this time by sheer accident, may have actually touched a critical node of the Shopkeeper Network.

The clue he bought with his blood might be priceless.

But the price is perhaps too harrowing.

Time drifted slowly amid the scent of disinfectant and the occasional footstep.

In the late night, the emergency room door finally opened.

The doctor emerged, exhausted, removing his mask.

"Li Chief, the patient has awakened. The anesthesia has worn off; he's in severe pain but his consciousness is relatively clear. He can't speak much for now; if you have questions, make them quick."

Li Ping'an instantly sat up straight.

"Thank you, doctor."

He hurried into the ward.

The lights in the ward were dimmed.

Xu Damao lay on the bed, his complexion paler than the sheet, lips chapped, his forehead covered in cold sweat.

One leg was bound in heavy plaster and bandages, raised high.

When he saw Li Ping'an enter, his eyes first shrank in fear, then a complex expression rose—lingering dread, grievance, and a hint of inexplicable… dependence?

"Li… Li Chief…" his voice rasped weakly, like a cracked bellows.

Li Ping'an went to the bedside, pulled a stool over and sat down.

"How does it feel?"

"It hurts…" Xu Damao breathed the cold air, tears welling up, the leg… my leg…

"Your life was saved." Li Ping'an said calmly, "but the leg may be inconvenient later. You shouldn't have gone back on your own then."

Xu Damao's lips trembled.

"I… I just wanted to prove… I'm not talking nonsense… about Lao Sun Tou…"

"You said before you lost consciousness that you saw Lao Sun Tou speaking with Su Xiulan from the library." Li Ping'an cut him off, "When? Where? Give the specific scene, recall as much as possible."

Xu Damao struggled to recall, his brows knotted tightly together from the pain and weakness.

Maybe… maybe a little over a month ago? I can't remember the exact details…

That day I… I went to the Logistics Department to run an errand; on my way back I took a shortcut, walking along the narrow path beside the scrap heap behind the boiler room.

That path was narrow, with hardly anyone around.

I saw… I saw Lao Sun Tou and that female librarian, namely Su Xiulan, standing and talking in the shade behind the scrap heap.

The two were a bit far off, so I couldn't make out what they were saying.

But Lao Sun Tou's demeanor then was nothing like his usual meek self in the bathhouse.

His back was straight, his hands gesturing, as if… as if he were giving instructions about something.

Su Xiulan kept her head down; I couldn't see her face, but she seemed… very tense, her hand constantly clutching the hem of her clothes.

At the time I didn't think much of it, assuming it was just an acquaintance chatting.

Later… later, after so many things happened, I forgot about this.

It wasn't until yesterday in the bathhouse, seeing Lao Sun Tou's gaze and his moves… that it suddenly came back to me!

Xu Damao blurted it all out, gasping hard, with more cold sweat beading on his forehead.

Li Ping'an handed him a cup of water and helped him take a couple of careful sips.

That's it? Did you see them passing anything? Or hear a word or two?

Xu Damao tried to shake his head.

No… they were too far away; I really didn't hear anything. As for objects… it seemed there weren't any.

Just talking.

But Lao Sun Tou's demeanor made me, the more I thought about it, feel that something was off.

He usually in the bathhouse nods and bows to everyone, but that day… that day his back was ramrod straight, his manner of speaking had the air of… like a leader?

Li Ping'an took note of that.

In front of Su Xiulan, Lao Sun Tou showed another side.

This confirms that Su Xiulan was indeed being deeply contacted and controlled via the network, and Lao Sun Tou's role in it was probably not just a simple liaison but rather a minor head with some authority.

Anything else? Regarding Lao Sun Tou, or the bathhouse storeroom, do you have any other findings?

Xu Damao's gaze was somewhat unfocused, clearly he was running out of strength.

The storeroom… dark… there was a smell… like machine oil and rust… he said haltingly, that bag… I couldn't see it clearly… Lao Sun Tou just…

He suddenly remembered something, and strained to widen his eyes.

Right! The button!

What button?

When Lao Sun Tou lunged at me… I grabbed him… it seemed… seemed like I pulled off a button from his shirt? Or maybe it fell from his pocket? I can't recall… it was all so chaotic…

But on the ground… there seemed to be a little shiny thing… round…

Li Ping'an's heart stirred.

The special copper button that Chen Jianghe discovered!

It's very likely the button that Xu Damao knocked off Lao Sun Tou during the struggle!

Could this button be Lao Sun Tou's identity marker? Or does it belong to the shopkeeper, or some higher‑ranking person as a token?

You did well. Li Ping'an looked at Xu Damao and, rare for him, spoke a word of affirmation—though the manner wasn't right, the information you provided is important. Now rest well and cooperate with treatment.

Hearing this, Xu Damao's pallid face actually flushed with a hint of something like satisfaction.

It felt as if all the fright and pain had been worth it.

Li… Li Chief, then… does this count as… merit? he asked, eyes pleading.

Li Ping'an rose to his feet.

Yes. Just heal up.

He left those words behind, turned, and walked out of the ward.

Xu Damao watched his retreating back, cracked his dry lips trying to smile, but the motion tugged at his leg wound, making him grimace in pain.

But in his heart, it felt as if a great stone had been lifted.

He even started to calculate, once his injury healed, what benefits he could trade this 'merit' for.

The hardness of the hospital bed and the sharp pain in his leg could not, for the moment, dispel the eager fantasies about the future that had reignited in his heart.

Li Ping'an walked out of the inpatient building.

The pre‑dawn wind carried the chill of deep autumn, blowing in his face and refreshing his spirit.

Xu Damao's testimony, together with that button, made the pointer clearer.

Lao Sun Tou is the key.

We must pry open his mouth.

He didn't go back to the Security Department, but went straight to the Interrogation Room.

The Interrogation Room is underground, the light dim, the air damp.

Lao Sun Tou was handcuffed to a chair, head lowered, his gray‑white hair somewhat disheveled.

Hearing footsteps, he slightly lifted his eyelids, glanced at Li Ping'an, then lowered them again.

His gaze was cloudy, but deep down lay something cold and stubborn.

Li Ping'an sat opposite him, saying nothing.

He simply placed the copper button, wrapped in a handkerchief, gently on the table between them.

Lao Sun Tou's gaze fell on the button.

His body tensed imperceptibly.

Although it was extremely subtle, it could not escape Li Ping'an's eyes.

"Do you recognize it?" Li Ping'an asked, his voice calm, found among the bathhouse's clutter. Xu Damao said it had fallen from you.

Lao Sun Tou let out an indistinct sound from his throat.

"No… don't recognize… an old button… I don't know where it came from…"

"Is that so?" Li Ping'an picked up the button, holding it under the dim light; the vine pattern on it became clearer, the craftsmanship quite fine. Not like the ones you can buy on the street.

He paused, his gaze like a knife, stabbing at Lao Sun Tou.

"Do you recognize Su Xiulan?"

Lao Sun Tou jerked his head up, a flash of panic flickering in his eyes, but he immediately concealed it.

"Who… who? Don't recognize…"

"Over a month ago, at the waste pile behind the boiler room." Li Ping'an said slowly, "You spoke with her. You were hunched over, she was trembling. Do you want me to bring her here to confront you?"

Lao Sun Tou's complexion changed.

His lips pressed together, his cheekbones slightly puffed.

Clearly his heart was in a fierce struggle.

Silence spread in the cramped Interrogation Room.

Only the sound of the wall clock's second hand ticking—tick, tick—hit the nerves.

Li Ping'an was not in a hurry.

He knew Lao Sun Tou's mental defenses had begun to crack.

What was needed now was pressure, sustained pressure, and… something to shatter his lucky mindset.

"We have investigated your background." Li Ping'an changed the subject, his tone still steady, "Geng Fugui, fifty‑five, from Cangzhou, Hebei. In the 28th year of the Republic he entered Yongli Machine Factory as an apprentice. In the 37th year, the year before liberation, a minor accident occurred in the Workshop you were in; your master was injured, and because you displayed 'calmness' and assisted, you earned the appreciation of a foreman at that time."

Lao Sun Tou's eyes flickered.

Later, that foreman disappeared on the eve of liberation. Some say he went south, others say… he stayed.

Li Ping'an stared at him.

Your master recovered from his injury, but not long after died of illness. The cause of death was suspicious.

And you, during the post‑liberation reckoning, remained unharmed, even being assigned to guard the bathhouse because your "history was clear and your conduct honest."

The job was idle, remote, and not easy to draw attention.

It was a position well suited for… hiding and relaying.

Lao Sun Tou's breathing began to grow heavy.

Fine beads of sweat seeped from his forehead.

Li Ping'an leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping lower, bearing an undeniable penetrating force.

"What was the foreman's surname? Was it Tan?"

Lao Sun Tou shuddered all over!

His eyes suddenly widened, looking at Li Ping'an in disbelief.

"You… how did you…"

"How would I know?" Li Ping'an leaned back against the chair, his tone turning cold, "Lao Dao is dead. His bones are hard, but some matters don't need him to speak. Your network has been weaving for over a decade, from Yongli Factory to Steel Rolling Mill, from Foreman Tan to Shopkeeper. You thought that with Lao Dao cut off, Geng Fugui dead, you were safe?"

"What did the Shopkeeper give you? To guard this shabby nest of a bathhouse, to relay for fugitives like Lao Dao, to watch over and even control pitiful pawns like Su Xiulan?"

The muscles on Lao Sun Tou's face convulsed violently.

His mental defenses, under Li Ping'an's successive blows, teetered on collapse.

But he still forced himself to hold on.

The stubbornness in his gaze, mixed with fear, was like the final feral glint of a dying beast.

Li Ping'an stopped pressing.

He stood, walked to the wall, opened a cabinet, and took out a file folder.

Returning to the desk, he removed the contents of the folder one by one, placing them before Lao Sun Tou.

A faded old group photo from the Yongli Machine Factory era, with a young man of indistinct features circled in red.

A summary of an internal investigation record from the early liberation period concerning the disappearance of the foreman surnamed Tan, with several names annotated.

A photocopy of the accident report of Su Xiulan's brother Zhang Jianguo, with red‑pen markings at the crucial points.

Finally, a close‑up photo of the copper button, and a photo of a small piece of metal ornament with the same vine pattern found on Lao Dao.

These items, like heavy hammers, struck the already overburdened mental defenses of Lao Sun Tou.

His face turned as pale as paper, sweat poured like rain, and his body began to tremble uncontrollably.

His pupils dilated, breathing rapid.

Li Ping'an knew the moment had arrived.

He sat back down, his voice slowing, yet bearing heavier weight.

"Sun Fugui, you are just a pawn. Whether the Shopkeeper used old favors or a lever, he has tied you to this ship for over a decade. Now the ship is sinking, and the first to drown are you, the lower‑level pawns."

"Lao Dao is dead, it is a release. Geng Fugui is dead, it is a silencing. And you?"

"Do you want to die as they did, obscurely, with your whole family stained? Or do you want to seize the last chance, atone and earn merit, leaving a way out for yourself and your family?"

"The choice is yours."

Li Ping'an finished speaking and fell silent.

He simply stared quietly at Lao Sun Tou.

In the Interrogation Room, only Lao Sun Tou's heavy, labored breathing remained.

The wall clock's second hand kept moving tirelessly.

Tick.

Drip.

Every second felt as long as a century.

Finally.

Lao Sun Tou seemed to have had all his bones drained, going limp in the chair.

He lifted his head; in his cloudy eyes, the last stubborn spark of light was utterly extinguished.

Only endless exhaustion and fear remained.

He opened his mouth; his voice was dry, hoarse, and barely recognizable.

I… I said…

Shopkeeper…… I…… I've never seen…… really…… it's all…… a single line…… through the Dead Letter Box…… or…… like someone like Old Dao…… passing messages……

But…… the button…… is a token……

Seeing the button…… is like seeing the Shopkeeper……

Li Ping'an's spirit lifted.

Holding his breath, he listened carefully.

Lao Sun Tou's halting testimony was like tearing open a corner of a heavy curtain, revealing a deeper, more mysterious scene beyond.

Meanwhile, the sky outside the window had, unnoticed, already shown a hint of grayish-white.

Dawn was approaching.

But the densest part of the darkness seemed only just beginning to reveal its outline.