Public Security Bureau Detention Center.
Chen Wei had been brought into the interrogation room by Tang Qing, who held a pen firmly in hand and fixed her gaze on the paper on the desk, asking, "Name."
"Chen Wei."
"Age."
"Haven't all these questions already been asked? That person beside you just did," Chen Wei felt it unnecessary to repeat himself.
"In here, when I ask you something, you answer!" Tang Qing looked up and gave Chen Wei a stern glance.
Maintaining authority during an interrogation without letting the other party gain the upper hand was crucial; the power had to be with the interrogator. This was the experience Tang Qing had learned.
"Fine, then continue asking," Chen Wei responded.
"Last..." but before she could finish, Tang Qing paused, then corrected herself, "Occupation."
"Many. Lyricist, composer, doctor, investor..."
