V2 Chapter 12: The Man Who Thought He Killed Someone—But Didn't
Zhang Yunxiang took a deep breath, as if steeling himself.
"The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. So... I went to the back door to confront him."
"Confront Chen Wan?"
"Yes." Zhang Yunxiang's eyes changed. When answering questions about "that woman" earlier, his gaze had been evasive, flickering, unstable. But now, his focus suddenly solidified. Not determination—something dark, almost obsessive.
Yin Wuwang recognized that look immediately. He'd seen it too many times—the struggle of a kind person pushed to their limit, with nowhere left to turn. Nothing to do with murderous intent.
He thought to himself: This man doesn't hate Chen Wan. He's afraid of losing his wife. He wasn't "seeking revenge"—he was "protecting." Only his method of protection had become extremely twisted.
"I saw Chen Wan come out the back door." Zhang Yunxiang's speech quickened. "I rushed up and confronted him, he said he didn't know my wife. I didn't believe him and pushed him. He pushed back, and I fell down."
His hands stopped trembling.
"Then I... got up and saw an empty bottle on the ground nearby. I picked it up and smashed it against his head."
He said this very calmly.
Yin Wuwang watched his eyes, listening to every single word.
"What happened after you hit him?"
"He fell." Zhang Yunxiang's voice began to shake—not the wooden calm of his earlier narration, but panic suppressed to the extreme. His breathing grew rapid. "Blood... so much blood, pouring from his head, flowing across the asphalt. I was still holding the broken bottle neck, covered in blood."
"You thought he was dead." Yin Wuwang repeated.
"He wasn't moving! I called out to him and he didn't respond at all!" Zhang Yunxiang suddenly became agitated, hands clutching his face in anguish, tears seeping wretchedly through his fingers. "I didn't mean to kill him... I was just so angry, I just wanted to warn him to stay away from Xiaoqing! I didn't know it would turn out like that..."
A man in his thirties, breaking down crying in an interrogation room, like a child who'd made an irreversible mistake and was completely terrified. "I killed someone... I ruined Xiaoqing, ruined our family..."
Yin Wuwang watched his breakdown with cold eyes, silently tapping his knee three times.
"Zhang Yunxiang." His tone suddenly changed, carrying an inexplicable pressure that made spines stiffen involuntarily. "You say you killed Chen Wan."
Zhang Yunxiang lowered his hands, tear-streaked face looking at him, nodding as if resigned to his fate: "I killed him."
"With a bottle?"
"Yes."
"How many times did you hit him?"
"Once."
"And then you ran? Didn't check his breathing, didn't see if he was still alive?" Yin Wuwang's gaze cut like a tangible blade.
Zhang Yunxiang's eyes flew wide, filled with fear and resistance: "I didn't dare... so much blood, how could I touch him? I saw he wasn't moving and I knew it was over..."
A man so terrified he didn't even dare check for breath. A man who'd completely break down at one more look at the body. How could such a person calmly remove a necktie and strangle someone covered in blood to death?
Yin Wuwang already had his answer. Zhang Yunxiang had no idea Chen Wan had been strangled. He thought his single bottle blow had ended everything, so his confession came naturally.
But yesterday's autopsy results from Xie Qingyan were crystal clear—the blunt force trauma from the bottle wasn't fatal. What actually killed Chen Wan was mechanical asphyxiation. A soft ligature pressed into the neck—most likely a necktie.
And Zhang Yunxiang, from start to finish, hadn't mentioned a necktie once.
Yin Wuwang decided not to expose him on this point. There was something else he wanted to confirm first.
"One last question." Yin Wuwang stood, looking down at Zhang Yunxiang from above. This angle, combined with his height advantage, created immense pressure on an exhausted man who hadn't slept properly in days. "After you ran, did you look back?"
Zhang Yunxiang froze.
This question was clearly outside his anticipated range. He shifted uneasily, then shook his head.
"No. I didn't dare look back."
"You kept running?"
"Kept running. Ran to the alley entrance and hailed a taxi."
"Was there anyone else in the back alley?"
Zhang Yunxiang opened his mouth but made no sound. Two seconds later, he shook his head: "I... don't know. I didn't notice. My mind was completely blank."
Yin Wuwang held his gaze for three seconds, then looked away, asking nothing more.
"All right. That's enough for today. Rest well. We may need to speak with you again."
Yin Wuwang's tone returned to the casual air from the start. He gathered the case file and turned toward the door.
"Officer." A hoarse call came from behind.
Yin Wuwang stopped but didn't turn around.
"My wife... is she okay?"
Yin Wuwang turned to look at him. Zhang Yunxiang lifted his head, bloodshot eyes filled with pleading—the only moment in all these days that he'd shown such intense emotion.
"Officer, all the blame is mine. I'm the one who killed him. I'll pay with my life." Zhang Yunxiang's voice shook terribly, yet carried a desperate determination. "Please don't bother her. Don't let her know... that I'm a murderer."
He would rather die than let his wife know he'd become a monster.
Yin Wuwang suddenly understood. This man's entire logic, from start to finish, centered on one thing: his wife. He'd believed the words of a strange woman, gone to hit a man, then thought he'd killed him—but after being imprisoned, the first thing he asked wasn't how many years he'd get. It was "Is my wife okay?"
Collapse Point Two. The original author had forced a kind, soft-hearted good person to become a murderer, with "hatred" and "impulse" as the motive. But in the world's self-repair process, it had given Zhang Yunxiang a more realistic, more tragic logic—he didn't hate Chen Wan. He was just afraid of losing Su Xiaoqing.
"She's fine." Yin Wuwang said.
He pulled open the door. Before walking out, he looked back at Zhang Yunxiang one last time. In that glance was something approaching compassion, accumulated from three thousand years of experience—but only for an instant.
The door closed behind him.
[End of V2_Chapter 12]
Next: Back at the forensic office—and three fingers that lay out the truth of manipulation.