Yang's wife, feeling satisfied she finally met Song Chongjin, glared fiercely at him for a good half of the day, but didn't speak.
Song Chongjin allowed him to scrutinize freely, sitting aside, self-assured in his endurance.
So he just drank tea, sipping while examining the confessions, pondering their credibility.
After quite a while, with the winter chill biting hard, and it being night, even with two charcoal burners inside the room, they were of limited use, especially with Yang's wife lying on the ground, his clothes soaked with water, forming a thin layer of ice.
The cold seeped deeply into his bones, as much as he mentally believed he could withstand it, his body was shivering uncontrollably, face pale and words stuck in his mouth.
He glanced at Song Chongjin, who was engrossed in his papers, not granting a glance, feeling both embarrassed and anxious, he stammered, "You… you…"
Song Chongjin finally set down the confession, giving Yang's wife a look, "Ready to confess?"
