Chapter 20: Holy Monk, Come Here, Play With Me

In his past life, Lu Zhongxin truly fell victim to this case.

The circumstances then were identical to now: the special task force unanimously believed the missing Kong Lingjie was the prime suspect.

Just a few days later, Kong Lingjie was captured at a nearby hotel.

It went even smoother than expected; during interrogation, the suspect confessed without reservation, admitting he was driven by lust after seeing the victim’s beauty.

He abducted Zhang Yan on her way home from school and took her to a rented apartment intending to assault her.

But Zhang Yan fought desperately, refusing to submit; in a rage, Kong Lingjie strangled her to death.

The special task force believed the facts of the case were clear, and the evidence was definite and sufficient.

It could be determined that the suspect was indeed guilty and must be held criminally responsible.

The case would now be transferred for prosecution review.

In his past life, this case had proceeded this smoothly.

The only thing that made the special task force suspicious was the trial phase.

The defendant, Kong Lingjie, had hired a very famous lawyer.

Citing his good confession attitude and active cooperation with the investigation, the lawyer requested a lighter sentence.

And indeed, he was sentenced to death with reprieve.

Do you think the matter ended there?

Everyone who knew about this case back then thought so.

No one expected that the truly astonishing events had only just begun.

Because Kong Lingjie committed no intentional crimes during his reprieve and behaved well, his sentence was commuted to life imprisonment two years later.

Another year passed—by the third year of Kong Lingjie’s incarceration—he overturned the verdict.

Can you overturn a verdict while serving time?

Of course you can; not only during incarceration, but even after completing your sentence.

The lawyer who had helped Kong Lingjie escape the death penalty three years earlier reappeared.

This time, he presented new evidence: Kong Lingjie’s alibi.

According to the forensic autopsy report, the victim Zhang Yan died between 2:00 p.m. and 5:00 p.m. on June 5, 2014.

Since the body was discovered four days later, the time of death could only be narrowed to within a three-hour window.

The lawyer provided audiovisual evidence: a surveillance video from inside a mall.

The surveillance footage began at 3:20 p.m. on June 5, 2014.

In the video, Kong Lingjie wandered the fourth floor of the mall for at least ten minutes.

Finally, he spent twelve minutes in a men’s clothing store and purchased a men’s coat.

And this mall… was not in Songhai!

The two locations were 240 kilometers apart.

What does this distance imply?

For example, at a speed of 100 kilometers per hour, a one-way trip of 240 kilometers takes two hours and forty minutes.

And that speed is only achievable on a highway.

In reality, the time must be increased by at least another twenty minutes, since entering and exiting the highway also takes time.

That means, during the time Zhang Yan was killed, Kong Lingjie could not possibly have been in Songhai!

That wasn’t all—the lawyer also provided the mall’s receipt and paper invoice from Kong Lingjie’s coat purchase.

He then provided additional surveillance footage from inside the store.

This was enough to prove Kong Lingjie’s alibi was genuine and valid.

So the question arises: if you weren’t at the scene, why did you confess during interrogation?

Kong Lingjie’s explanation: torture during interrogation.

He directly accused Lu Zhongxin, insisting it was this police officer who tortured him, and described the exact methods used.

He even quoted every single word Lu Zhongxin had said.

One of them was: “Speak up—why did you kill Zhang Yan?”

This is a classic example of leading interrogation.

It directly supplies the answer: you are the killer of Zhang Yan; you don’t need to admit guilt—just state your motive.

Of course, it wasn’t just that one line—there were others…

“The landlord has already identified you; whether you confess or not, we can convict you. Poor attitude might make it worse.”

This is deception interrogation.

“If you fully confess, we’ll treat it as a voluntary surrender, and we’ll tell the court you showed good attitude—maybe they’ll give you probation.”

This is inducement interrogation.

All of the above fall under illegal interrogation methods—and Lu Zhongxin had used nearly all of them.

Are you curious why these are so common in TV dramas?

In TV shows, police interrogate suspects exactly like this.

What does that indicate?

The screenwriters don’t understand the law.

Besides, no one expects authentic interrogation scenes in dramas—most people just want a good plot.

You can enjoy anti-Japanese fantasy dramas, let alone crime thrillers.

Three years later, Kong Lingjie could recite Lu Zhongxin’s exact words from the interrogation, nearly word-for-word.

During the retrial, the court reviewed the original interrogation footage—and it matched Kong Lingjie’s account perfectly.

Do you think that’s terrifying enough?

Not yet—the worst is still to come.

He also claimed Lu Zhongxin subjected him to severe torture.

Please... c...o...l...l...e...c...t... 6...9... b...o...o...k...s...!

But the court found no evidence of any violent behavior by Lu Zhongxin in the interrogation footage.

Kong Lingjie, however, described the precise methods.

During interrogation, he said he was hungry, so Lu Zhongxin gave him a cup of instant noodles.

While eating, he noticed the broth was unusually salty—someone must have added extra salt.

The water he was given was also salted, making him thirstier the more he drank.

He also smelled strong sesame oil in his meals, causing him to suffer from diarrhea daily—even after eating, he still felt hungry.

Over time, he couldn’t endure it anymore and confessed to things he hadn’t done.

This is the hallmark of invisible torture.

It’s a two-way game: if you leave no trace, he leaves no trace either—three years have passed, and Lu Zhongxin, no matter how he protests, can’t prove his innocence.

Simply denying it isn’t enough—you must provide evidence.

He’s playing a reverse game.

At that time, Lu Zhongxin had already been promoted to head of the criminal investigation unit, and his promotion was indeed due to the successful resolution of this case.

But when the backlash came, this rigid, old-school detective couldn’t withstand it.

He might not care about his life, but he cared deeply about his reputation.

When a massive accusation fell from the sky, staining him with disgrace, Lu Zhongxin chose to end his life to clear his name.

He committed suicide.

Before dying, he placed all police equipment—including his firearm—back at the station, and even folded his uniform neatly on his bed in the dormitory.

He wore his usual casual clothes and jumped from a bridge.

In his past life, Yu Dazhang was stunned for over a month because of this.

Later, after reviewing the case, he reached the following conclusions.

When Lu Zhongxin first took on this case, he was at a critical point in his career advancement.

So this case was extremely tempting to him at the time.

This caused Lu Zhongxin to become overly eager for results, leading him to use unconventional interrogation methods during questioning.

It’s like a fox spirit tempting Tang Changlao: “Holy monk, come here, play with me!”

But once Tang Changlao fell for it, the fox spirit revealed her true face: “Nope, holy monk, show some respect.”

Can you guess if Tang Changlao would swallow that insult?

But Yu Dazhang was certain his master would never use such low tactics as adding salt to instant noodles.

Lu Zhongxin might make verbal mistakes, but he would never violate principles.

He also firmly believed his master would never cross the moral line.

If Lu Zhongxin had truly been that kind of person, he wouldn’t have chosen suicide so decisively in his past life.

Therefore, Kong Lingjie was lying.

To trap Lu Zhongxin and secure his own acquittal, he spent three full years setting the trap.

Since he wasn’t a member of the special task force in his past life, Yu Dazhang could only make these deductions.

This life is different—he not only knew the outcome but had also joined the special task force.

Since his master still chose to take on this case, he might as well go along with him this time.

“Master…” Yu Dazhang murmured to himself, standing in the hallway:

"This lifetime, I’ll do my best to keep you from becoming Tang Changlao."

(End of chapter)