Hong Kong.
An overnight interrogation.
After some rest.
Du Qi met with his lawyer.
"Mr. Du, your case is very troublesome. The police already have conclusive evidence and confessions, and the blood on your bodies is the victim's. All evidence is indisputable. You need to prepare yourself."
"What preparation?" Du Qi asked.
The lawyer said, "Over thirty-five years of imprisonment is the best outcome you can hope for."
Upon hearing thirty-five years,
Du Qi panicked.
"The knife... wasn't mine." Having drunk too much wine, Du Qi had no continuity in his memory. He only knew that he indeed was wielding a stick and beating the victim with it.
But where did the knife come from?
The lawyer shook his head.
"Whether the knife is yours or not is irrelevant now. You're the one who killed the victim. And since you're claiming the knife isn't yours while you were drunk, the court won't accept that."
"I... I have money," Du Qi said loudly.
