Chapter 1602 - The Interrogation
"In another interrogation room," the interrogator said meaningfully. "You probably don't know—Li Yongxun is quite famous around here. She's very skilled at torturing prisoners, especially female prisoners." He paused, his voice laden with implication. "And the apprentices she's trained aren't bad either."
Lin Ming understood the meaning all too well. He knew Li Yongxun's "skills" intimately. Thinking of his dear sister-in-law enduring who knew what suffering, his heart ached viciously, and cold sweat streamed down his forehead. All composure deserted him. His voice trembled: "What have you done to her?"
"Oh, nothing much—just a taste of her own medicine," the interrogator said coldly. "She confessed: you said there's another Embroidered Guard agent active here. As you know, a single testimony isn't enough. If you won't tell me where and who, I'll have no choice but to ask my colleagues to keep questioning her—to confirm whether what she's said is true, and whether she's told us everything..."
"No, please no." Lin Ming was in complete disarray. He had ventured into the tiger's den for the sake of this sister-in-law. He knew something of the Embroidered Guard's torture methods—the Brocade Prison was like the Hall of Yama. If the Shorn Bandits decided to give her "a taste of her own medicine," she'd be lucky to survive.
If anything happened to her, even death wouldn't bring him peace—to have failed to rescue her and instead caused her death.
Seeing sweat pouring down his face, the interrogator knew they had hit his weak spot and continued in a playful tone: "Rest assured—our great Elder Council of the Song dynasty is the most humane. Torture resulting in death doesn't usually happen here. But sometimes being alive isn't necessarily better than being dead..."
Lin Ming's hands gripped his hair tightly, and he bowed his head in agony. After a long while, he slowly raised it. "Let her go. I'll do whatever you want."
A smile flickered across the interrogator's face. "That can certainly be arranged! But Inspector Lin, words alone mean nothing—you'll have to show some sincerity. Ha! For instance, that question from before..."
Lin Ming swallowed. "Whether you believe it or not, I really did come alone." Seeing the interrogator's face darken, he quickly continued: "But I know there are other Embroidered Guard people here."
"Oh?" The interrogator's interest was piqued. "Go on."
Lin Ming thought: Sorry, brother. Right now I can barely save myself.
"The code you found—that was indeed left by me. I intended to use it to contact Li Yongxun, but instead someone else came to the meeting point."
"Who was it?"
"A woman, about twenty-eight or twenty-nine. I didn't know her. By her dress, she was a streetwalker. She wore a leather collar around her neck—like the kind dogs wear..."
"A twenty-eight or twenty-nine-year-old woman, a streetwalker, wearing a leather collar..." The interrogator thought for a moment, then turned and said something to an assistant, who immediately left the room. Shortly after, the man returned with a paper envelope.
The interrogator said to Lin Ming: "Look carefully—which of these was the woman you met that day? And remember, no tricks, or it won't go well for either of you." The assistant opened the envelope and spread several photographs on the table for Lin Ming to examine. He recognized at once that the woman was Xin Nachun—the same one he had met that day.
When the interrogator saw the identification, he gave a cold laugh. "Just as I thought. Heh, heh." Then he asked: "What did you two talk about that day?"
Lin Ming replied: "When I saw it wasn't Li Yongxun, I wanted to leave. But she clung to me. Just then, some of your officers came by, arrested her for 'illegal solicitation,' and hauled her off for a flogging. I never saw her again after that."
"Write out the full contents of the code."
Lin Ming had no choice but to write out the code in detail. In fact, it wasn't a proper cipher that could form sentences—just a set of marks similar to the signs thieves used among themselves to communicate simple information like time, place, and direction.
The interrogator looked over what he had written, stood up, and ordered: "Hold him for now. Await further orders!" He turned to leave. Lin Ming called out anxiously: "I've told you everything I know. When will you let her go?"
The interrogator paused and looked back. "Inspector Lin, you're an old hand at this. Did you really think it would be so easy to get off the hook? But since you've been cooperative today, she won't be suffering for now. As for later—that'll depend on how you perform." With that, he left.
With this answer, Lin Ming slumped in the interrogation chair like a deflated ball. He couldn't help laughing bitterly at himself: If I'd known this would happen, why did I come in the first place?
Wang Qisuo had been sleeping soundly these past few days. The "cooperative inquiry" was nearly over, and he had answered every question smoothly without any slip-ups. Seeing that no one else was coming to question him, he figured he had passed.
Before the operation, he had killed Xin Nachun. As for the secret letters he had exchanged with Sima Qiudao, he had long since destroyed them all. And the draft of his Notes on Pacifying the Shorn—the intelligence compilation he had put together over time—he had also secretly destroyed.
Now he was safe. As for Master Shi's mission, that was just bad luck for them—nothing to do with him. After this, Master Shi should realize that Lingao wasn't such an easy bone to gnaw—no one learns without chipping a few teeth.
He had already "heroically saved the Chiefs" at the folk music troupe and seemed to have pleased the three Chiefs very much. Next, he would continue to lie low, wait for the storm to pass, then act according to circumstances.
He didn't like Master Shi, nor the "Lord" behind him, and even less the Ming court. If he could, he would have preferred to just muddle along in Lingao for the rest of his life—at least it was stable. But sometimes, fate left no choice. His entire family's lives were in Master Shi's hands; he couldn't afford to think too much.
Fortunately, Master Shi was generous enough. That at least gave him some motivation to continue his cover here.
But one morning, a guard came to his room. "Wang Qisuo! Come with me!"
Wang Qisuo quickly stood and followed the guard out of his soft-detention room. This was a barracks temporarily used to hold personnel undergoing "cooperative inquiry." Interrogations were conducted in the offices.
When he saw the guard leading him toward an interrogation room, he began to feel uneasy: Why more interrogation?
He was nervous, but struggled to maintain his composure.
In the interrogation room, he noticed different faces from before—not just new ones, but several unfamiliar men and women. Some wore blue collar insignia. He startled, then quickly stood at attention with a salute to cover it up, reporting loudly: "Private First Class Wang Qisuo of the Security Battalion reporting as ordered!"
"Sit down," the interrogator said casually.
"Yes, sir!" Wang Qisuo sat down properly, hands on his knees—a perfect military posture.
"Name..."
The questioning began with basic information—name, age. Wang Qisuo knew this routine. He answered each question crisply. Then came questions about his activities on the day of the Cultural Festival. Wang Qisuo relaxed slightly.
"Where were you the day before the Cultural Festival?" the interrogator suddenly asked.
Wang Qisuo's heart lurched—that was the day he had killed Xin Nachun.
"I was at the folk music troupe rehearsal," he answered calmly. This was absolutely true—not only could troupe members vouch for him, but several Elders could as well.
"The rehearsal ended at one in the afternoon. What then?"
"I was assigned as a carriage guard for two young Elders."
"Would that be Elders Lin Ziqi and Zhang Yunmi?"
"Yes. That was the duty assigned to me by the Escort Company."
"You're not a member of the Escort Company. Why were you guarding Elders?"
"The Escort Company was short-handed. I was temporarily seconded."
"Who seconded you?"
"My company commander..."
"Your company commander says you volunteered." The interrogator paused. "Is that so?"
Wang Qisuo swallowed. "That's correct."
"You're a busy man—you were also an erhu player for the folk music troupe. With rehearsals so busy, why did you also apply to the Escort Company?"
"The battalion has a lot of work. I didn't feel right sitting idle..." Wang Qisuo said blandly.
The interrogator nodded and studied him for a while before opening a folder. "Your escort duty ended at five o'clock that evening. You reported back to the barracks at seven-thirty. Where were you during those two and a half hours?"
Wang Qisuo took a deep breath. "I was in the East Gate Market..."
"Doing what?"
"Having a drink," Wang Qisuo said. "Relaxing a bit."
"Which establishment?"
"A food stall in the East Gate Market. They sold oyster omelets, boiled sea snails, that kind of thing... I can't remember exactly."
"Any witnesses?"
"People come and go. Maybe the waiter remembers."
"Nothing else?"
"Nothing."
"Do you recognize this person?" The interrogator handed over a photograph. Wang Qisuo took it. He already had a good idea who was in it, and his heart sank steadily.
"Not really—just knew of her. She's a prostitute." Wang Qisuo knew there was no way to deny knowing Xin Nachun. "I bought her services once. I don't know her name."
"Her name is Xin Nachun. Ring a bell?" the interrogator asked. "Did you see her during those two and a half hours?"
"No." Wang Qisuo flatly denied it. He sensed things were going badly, but he could only stick to his story. "I didn't see her."
"Very well. Then why are your fingerprints in her room?" The interrogator produced a sheet of paper and placed it in front of him. "Your fingerprints are all over the room. They match the ones on file from your registration document."
Wang Qisuo remained calm—he didn't even glance at the paper. Given what he knew: the tea house room had neither ink nor vermilion paste. He had never pressed his fingerprint on any paper. And he had strangled Xin Nachun—no blood meant no blood-stained fingerprints.