The interrogation room at the Municipal Prosecutor's Office was always washed in cold white light.
It flattened the gray walls into something almost lifeless. The air carried the faint scent of printer ink and disinfectant—clean, sterile, controlled.
It smelled like Summer Wen.
She sat behind the table in her dark charcoal prosecutor's uniform, immaculate as ever. Silver insignia caught the overhead light. Her sleeves were rolled neatly to her forearms, revealing a slim wrist and a minimalist black mechanical watch. The steady tick of its second hand became the only rhythm in the room.
Her dark amber eyes were steady, unreadable as she studied the case file before her. A slight crease marked her brow. Her sharp features held a natural distance—cold enough to keep strangers away.
Only the small mole behind her left ear, half-hidden beneath a loose strand of hair, softened her in ways no one ever noticed.
A knock.
"Prosecutor Wen. The witness has arrived."
Arden Lin's voice came from outside the door—professional, efficient, with the faintest hint of impatience. The tablet in her hand still displayed fragments of evidence: Lu Corporation Smuggling. Overseas Transit Warehouse.
She was about to enter when Summer lifted her gaze.
That was enough.
"Leave the file. Wait outside. No interruptions."
Her tone was even. Controlled.
Her finger tapped lightly on the name printed in bold on the page.
Victor Qin.
Head of a subsidiary under Lu Corporation. A key link in the smuggling investigation.
And today's witness—
Nian Su.
Arden nodded and withdrew. The door clicked shut softly, though the sound felt louder than it was.
Summer closed the file.
Her fingers lingered over the embossed gold lettering on the cover.
Ten years.
She had spoken that name in silence for ten years. Avoided it for ten years.
And yet, here it was again—returning to her world in the most unforgiving way.
The door opened once more.
Soft footsteps.
Measured. Elegant. The kind of composure trained under cameras and flashing lights.
Summer looked up.
And her breath stalled.
Nian Su stood in the doorway.
An ivory knit sweater softened her pale complexion. Her long dark hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders. She was delicate, refined—except the dimples that should have appeared when she smiled were barely there now. A faint distance lingered in her eyes.
When she closed the door behind her, the movement exposed a thin scar on her right wrist.
Small.
Faded.
But unmistakable.
Summer's gaze locked onto it.
Ten years ago.
Shattered glass.
Blood.
She had thought she'd forgotten the details.
She hadn't.
Nian saw her too.
Her steps faltered almost imperceptibly. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag.
Ten years had changed Summer.
The softness of youth was gone, replaced by the precision and authority of a prosecutor. The distance in her eyes felt like a wall built brick by brick.
But Nian recognized her instantly.
The mole behind her ear.
The tight line of her lips when she was holding something back.
Some things never changed.
"Miss Su. Please, have a seat."
Summer looked away first.
Her voice returned to its official chill, as if the woman before her were nothing more than a witness.
Only the pressure of her fingers against the tabletop betrayed her.
Nian sat down smoothly, composed.
"Prosecutor Wen," she said evenly, eyes steady on Summer's face, "is this about Mr. Qin?"
"Yes."
Summer opened the file and slid a photograph across the table.
Victor Qin stood beside an unfamiliar man at a harbor. Behind them: a cargo ship. The markings matched those linked to the overseas smuggling transit route.
"You've collaborated with Mr. Qin for six months. Endorsed one of his subsidiary brands. During that time, did you observe him meeting unfamiliar individuals? Visiting ports, warehouses, or other questionable locations?"
Nian studied the photograph. Her expression didn't shift.
"My relationship with Mr. Qin is strictly professional," she replied calmly. "I've had minimal private contact with him. I've never seen him meet anyone suspicious, nor have I visited any such locations."
Summer lifted her eyes.
There was scrutiny there.
And something else.
"Miss Su, I remind you that testimony must be truthful. Concealing evidence carries legal consequences."
Her voice was soft—but firm.
Yet somehow, when directed at Nian, it lost a fraction of its edge.
Nian met her gaze.
The distance in her eyes thinned, revealing something more complicated beneath—hurt, restraint, something unsaid.
"I understand the importance of testimony," she said quietly. "What I'm saying is the truth."
Her fingers brushed unconsciously over the scar on her wrist.
"After all… I wouldn't risk my career."
A pause.
"Or gamble on what happened ten years ago. Not again."
Ten years ago.
The words struck like thunder.
Summer's fingers trembled.
Her composure fractured for half a second before she forced it back into place.
That old misunderstanding—like a shard lodged too deep to remove. Touch it, and it bled.
Silence filled the room again.
The ticking of the watch grew louder.
Then—
Summer's phone vibrated.
An anonymous message.
Prosecutor Wen. Don't investigate too aggressively. What happened to your mother back then isn't over yet.
—Victor Qin
The air shifted instantly.
The softness in Summer's expression vanished. Her grip tightened around the phone, knuckles pale.
Nian noticed the change.
"You okay?" she asked instinctively.
The words left her mouth before she could stop them.
She should hate her.
For leaving. For the silence. For the cold finality back then.
And yet—
Summer avoided her eyes.
"I'm fine."
She closed the file. Slipped the phone away.
"That concludes today's questioning. Miss Su, please remain available. Do not leave the city without notice."
Nian stood.
Her gaze lingered briefly behind Summer's ear.
"Whatever happened back then," she said softly, "it wasn't the end."
A beat.
"And Victor Qin isn't simple. Be careful."
Then she left.
The door shut.
Only then did Summer press a hand to her brow, exhaustion breaking through the armor.
Nian hadn't lied.
But she hadn't told everything either.
Victor was meticulous. If Nian had been drawn into this case, she had seen something.
The smuggling routes.
The overseas warehouse.
Her mother.
Ten years ago.
Threads pulling tight again.
The door opened. Arden stepped in, tablet in hand.
"Prosecutor Wen. Victor Qin has been contacting individuals in Southeast Asia. Likely coordinating overseas transit. There's also a large fund transfer to an anonymous offshore account. We haven't cracked it yet."
Summer looked up.
The steel returned to her eyes.
"Keep digging. Whatever it takes, trace that account and locate the overseas warehouse."
A pause.
"And put discreet protection on Nian Su. If Victor's threatening me, she's next."
Arden nodded.
She turned to leave—
"Wait."
Summer's voice softened, roughened at the edges.
"Look into the wrist injury Nian sustained ten years ago. And… gather everything related to my mother's overseas academic exchange that year."
Arden blinked but didn't question it.
"Yes, Prosecutor Wen."
When she was alone again, Summer stared at the door.
She reached up, brushing her fingers lightly against the mole behind her ear.