The confession took three hours. Xiaoling spoke in a monotone, detailing every moment of that night-her mother's words, the weight of the pillow, the silence that followed. Lin Meiying recorded it all, her face pale in the harsh light of the interrogation room.
When it was done, Chen Wei stepped into the hallway to find Zhao Mingxuan waiting. The old man looked smaller somehow, as if the weight of his daughter's crimes had compressed him into something fragile.
"Can I see her?" he asked.
"Not yet. There will be time later." Chen Wei leaned against the wall, suddenly exhausted. "Why didn't you tell us about the argument? About your daughter's investigation?"
Zhao Mingxuan closed his eyes. "I didn't know. Not until it was too late. Xiaoling and I... we haven't spoken in months. She blamed me for staying with her mother, for tolerating her cruelty. She was right to blame me."
"You knew about Su Yue. You knew your wife had her killed."
"I suspected. I didn't want to know for certain." Zhao's voice cracked. "I told myself it was better to live with doubt than to face the truth. I built my empire on sand, Detective. On lies and silence and the bones of a dead girl. And now my daughter will pay the price."
"She made her own choices."
"Did she?" Zhao opened his eyes, and Chen Wei saw a depth of pain that transcended grief. "She grew up in that house, Detective. She learned about power and secrets and the cost of weakness. She watched her mother destroy anyone who crossed her. Is it any wonder she became what she feared?"
Chen Wei had no answer. He thought of Su Xue, waiting twenty years for justice that would never come. He thought of Wu Feng, carrying his guilt like a stone around his neck. He thought of Xiaoling, who had become a murderer to escape becoming a victim.
"What happens now?" Zhao asked.
"Your daughter will be charged. There will be a trial. Given the circumstances-the abuse, the threat to her life-her lawyer may be able to argue for leniency."
"And Wu Feng?"
"We'll reopen the investigation into Su Yue's death. If the evidence supports it, he'll be charged as well."
Zhao Mingxuan nodded slowly. "And me?"
Chen Wei studied the old man-the scarred hands, the silver hair, the empire built on glass and blood. "That depends on what you knew and when you knew it. Accessory after the fact is still a crime, Mr. Zhao."
"I understand." Zhao straightened his shoulders, some of his old composure returning. "I'll cooperate fully. I'll provide any documents you need, testify to whatever you require. Just... please. Help my daughter. She's not a bad person. She's just... broken. Like the rest of us."
Chen Wei watched him walk away, a lonely figure disappearing into the fluorescent-lit corridor. The case was solved, the killer identified, justice served. But as he returned to the interrogation room, he couldn't shake the feeling that the true criminal had escaped punishment-not a person, but a system of silence and complicity that had destroyed lives across two generations.