Leng Zhao was handcuffed to a chair. Sitting opposite him was a middle-aged man in his thirties. His skin was pale, his fingers were slender, his gesture of holding a pen was standard, and there were two stars on his broad shoulders.

The man lowers his head and writes something on the document. He has been in the same position for at least half an hour since he came in. He writes something, which is not at all like the person who comes to interrogate the prisoner.

Ye Cheng knows Leng Zhao is looking at him. He has many ways to make people speak, but this time, he intends to...