Jian Si sat in the car and continued, "Nan Zhan, don't you find it strange? Someone is still running so late at night? Perhaps he is a psychopath killer hiding among the common people."
Nan Zhan got into the car, saw her analyzing everything systematically, but his face was still as pale as paper, evident that he must have been scared just now.
Only after she finished speaking did he say, "He is not the murderer, and he has nothing to do with the murderer."
"Really, how can you tell?"
"First, the amount he sweated, his upper back was completely soaked—if he were really here as a killer lying in wait, would he waste time and opportunity running around the neighborhood until drenched in sweat? Second, he is not left-handed. He wiped his face twice and put the towel in his pocket once, and he used his right hand for these actions; third, his family life is harmonious."
"Family life is harmonious? How can you tell that?" Jian Si asked, surprised.
