Compared to the last interrogation, Han Wenxing was much calmer today.
Because his family had already told him many times: as long as he stubbornly refused to admit anything, if the police couldn't find a complete chain of evidence, then there was nothing they could do about him.
"Your old family butler is already dead, you know that, right?"
He looked up, a bit surprised as he stared at Lin Miaoke.
"No need to look so shocked. If I'm not mistaken, that butler was also at the scene that night. For the sake of self‑preservation, your Han Family just killed him, even though he'd worked for you for more than twenty years?"
"You're talking nonsense."
"Here, this is the last photo. Take a look."
"What?"
Han Wenxing took the second photo and glanced at it; it was much blurrier than the previous one.
"What?"
"Look more carefully."
"This photo and me… this, you…"
When Han Wenxing saw the watch on the wrist in the photo, his whole body went slack.
