This was not the first time Song Qinghuan had been to a police station, nor was it her first time in an interrogation room.
Even though both times she had been brought in for inexplicable reasons, this time was clearly more depressing than the last.
The police officer taking her statement was a middle-aged man, his expression stern, not given to laughing or jesting. As he questioned her, she continually felt as if she were back in school, having a talk with the head of discipline.
Song Qinghuan relayed everything about her meeting with Han Qianqian today, the conversation they had in the cafe, and then how Qianqian drove her to the coastal highway.
The middle-aged officer was typing every word she said into a document on his computer as he listened.
After printing it out, he placed it in front of Song Qinghuan.
But before that, he had made a copy and sent it out via email.
