In early spring, the temperature is unpredictable.
The stairway where the crime took place is crowded with onlookers—some in short sleeves, some in sweaters, and others in shorts.
Each of them stretched their necks, wanting to see what's happening with Wang Hui, who was identifying the scene at the doorway.
It's as if everyone isn't recognizing a colleague of over ten years but rather a man-eating gorilla escaped from a zoo.
Suddenly, someone becomes an object of public spectacle.
But the glaring police cordon, with what seemed like barbed spikes, deterred anyone from getting too close—they all kept their distance.
Wang Hui stammered, facing Wang Yishan's questions, he hesitated, then pointed to the sofa in the living room.
"It was... it was from the sofa. She was standing by the coffee table, I was on the sofa, she threw something, and I went to the kitchen from the sofa."
