After the case was closed, Zhen Ai returned to her dorm to send Jiang Xin's belongings back to China.
Before getting out of the car, Owen suddenly said, "Ai, don't be scared; it's all over now."
Zhen Ai didn't react at first: "What was there to be scared about?"
"You were worried, weren't you? That the people around you died because of you?" He reached out, patting her thin shoulder in his characteristic way. "Now that the truth is out, it has nothing to do with you."
Zhen Ai gazed into his blue eyes, suddenly moved to the point of being speechless.
She had indeed thought that perhaps those people had come for her, intending to kill her but accidentally killed Jiang Xin instead. She knew very well that if it weren't for Owen's request, Yan Su wouldn't have gotten involved in such a minor case.
Following Yan Su, she had managed to distance herself from the idea that she brought disaster and hadn't suffered any mental torment.
Everything was thanks to Owen's thoughtfulness and consideration.
Zhen Ai smiled brightly: "Thank you. Because of you, these past few days have been quite easy for me. You know, feeling at ease is something I've always considered a luxury."
Owen suddenly blushed. It was the first time he had seen Zhen Ai truly smile, her joy radiating from the corners of her lips to her eyes, a little shy, a little awkward, yet unable to conceal her purity and cleanliness.
He knew she looked beautiful when she smiled like that.
He turned his head to look straight ahead and said, "I had S.A. check all the evidence related to Jiang Xin and Zhao He. No other passwords were found, and nothing related to you, so you don't have to worry about that."
"Yeah, I know."
Still blushing, Owen watched as Zhen Ai got out of the car. He quickly rolled down the window, but the near-zero air couldn't disperse the warmth on his cheeks.
Upon reaching the dorm, the police tape at the entrance had already been removed. Pushing the door open, she was met with the smell of disinfectant.
Zhen Ai closed the door and was just starting to sort through Jiang Xin's belongings when her phone rang—it was an unfamiliar number.
"Hello?"
There was a moment of hesitation on the other end, and after a while, the voice came through with some annoyance: "Why didn't you save my number?"
Zhen Ai rolled her eyes: "Who are you?"
The person sounded surprised and frustrated: "You can't recognize my voice?"
Zhen Ai: …
"I mean, you didn't even tell me your number!"
The other side calmed down, saying "oh" in a flat tone before slowly continuing, "I'm calling to tell you that Zhao He has been released."
After days of silence, his voice was both familiar and strange, carrying a low, seductive quality through the phone line.
Actually, Zhen Ai had already learned the outcome from Owen at noon—
Despite video evidence showing Zhao He wearing Tyler's clothes and carrying a sports bag containing blood-stained clothing into the gym, and his locker revealing the same bag with blood-stained gloves and the deceased's missing jewelry box, along with a baseball card that matched the blood spots at the scene, the jury still did not unanimously find Zhao He guilty.
The reason was that the prosecution had violated the most basic and inviolable principle in evidence collection—justice and truth.
Jasmine and her colleagues, representing the state, had influenced witnesses to provide unfavorable testimonies against the defendant. Because of this taint, all the evidence was shadowed by doubts about fairness and truth, casting suspicion of framing the defendant.
Since the time of *Twelve Angry Men*, the twelve members of the jury leaned towards a principle: it is better to let go of a 99.9% likely guilty person than to wrongly convict even 0.01% of an innocent one.
Yan Su's voice on the phone was leisurely: "Who can be sure that the solid evidence wasn't fabricated by the police?"
Zhen Ai was at a loss for words; she knew Yan Su was actually quite certain, yet he could accept this result so calmly. His mindset was truly perplexing... or perhaps it was a form of strong tolerance.
"You anticipated this outcome all along, didn't you?"
"Yeah, Zhao He would definitely be released, and then he would continue to kill."
Zhen Ai was puzzled: "Why would he continue to kill?"
"Zhao He didn't self-defend at the trial. He lacks a sense of right and wrong, has no compassion, and acts solely on impulse while being extremely unorthodox. Such people often become more paranoid after significant stimulation, and this murder will become the key to unleashing evil."
Zhen Ai pondered this deeply: acting on impulse and being unorthodox—wasn't that describing him as well?
Yan Su's voice turned serious: "Stop those boring thoughts in your head right now!"
Zhen Ai pouted, feeling that even through the phone line, it was impressive how he could sense her thoughts.
Suddenly, Zhen Ai thought of something and teased him: "So the person you caught is just going to be let go; won't you feel regret and frustration?"
Yan Su replied calmly: "No."
Zhen Ai was surprised: "Why not?"
On the other end, his tone was exceptionally steady yet filled with tension: "Because that's the rules of the game. Those on the side of justice cannot use unjust means to strike against what they see as evil; that's the rule and it's fair. You have to understand, justice is right, but the people representing justice are not necessarily right. Or rather, no one can truly represent justice."
Zhen Ai fell silent for a moment, then smiled slightly. Yes, everyone makes mistakes.
Was this the difference between human governance and rule of law?
She opened the window, gazing at the faint blue sky in the distance, smiling as she asked, "Do you think that if Zhao He had been convicted this time, it would have been a failure of the law?"
"Yes!" His response was emphatic, "He's guilty, but justice must be fair."
"And," his tone was stubbornly defiant, "next time, I will still catch him."
Zhen Ai looked at the sky, taking a deep breath. This man truly resembled what her gaze could see at this moment—vast, clean, transparent like the sky, timeless like space itself.
However, the sky also had another quality: it was unpredictable. "Hey, it's your turn to talk now!"
Zhen Ai was taken aback: "Huh? What?"
There was a brief pause on the other end, and he contained his protest: "After I finish a sentence, you don't say anything. Hmph, you should learn more about sociolinguistics. Ha, putting all the responsibility for maintaining conversation on me doesn't create a harmonious and engaging dialogue."
In conclusion, he said, "Miss Zhen Ai, you really can't chat!"
Oh, so he called just to talk. But for someone like Yan Su, choosing this kind of topic was rather strange...
Zhen Ai felt a sense of duty and responded, "So, you went to the trial?"
"Of course," he replied, slightly raising his voice, sounding arrogant and pleased. "A case of police misconduct? It's thrilling!"
She knew he had a quirky focus.
"And Jasmine? Will she face any punishment?"
"Her colleague was fired for misleading testimony, but she's untouched."
Is this what Yan Su referred to as "politics"?
After deliberating, Zhen Ai asked, "What's your relationship with her?"
"No relationship," came his flat reply.
"But she shares your mother's last name..."
"Oh, right! After my parents divorced, my mom, feeling lonely living in China, adopted a Chinese girl."
Zhen Ai felt a bit exasperated; could the world around him be so insignificant?
Yet, why was she suddenly so happy?
She couldn't help but smile secretly, forgetting to respond.
After a long pause, Zhen Ai realized the atmosphere had turned cold, and it was time for her to speak again. She hurriedly added, "Jiang Xin's parents must be heartbroken."
As soon as she said that, it seemed to grow even colder.
Zhen Ai tugged at her hair—why was she so bad at chatting!
But Yan Su picked up the conversation without a hitch: "I contacted her parents through a lawyer, asking them to come to the U.S. for a civil lawsuit. Even though the criminal court ruled not guilty, the civil court can determine intentional homicide and impose hefty compensation. If Zhao He has no money, he has a valid life insurance policy."
Zhen Ai was taken aback; she had almost forgotten that criminal conviction and civil compensation were independent. What surprised her even more was that Yan Su would do this for a stranger.
He might be aloof and strange, but he was still kind-hearted and upright!
She felt a swirl of emotions, leaving her speechless again.
After another peculiar silence, Yan Su sounded annoyed: "Zhen Ai!"
"Hmm?" she replied, curious.
"You're a terrible conversation partner; I don't want to talk to you anymore."
Zhen Ai smirked, deciding to tease him: "Yan Su!"
"...Hmm?" came his haughty tone.
"You're terrible too! Everything you said, Owen already told me; you didn't need to call. Hmph, your information isn't timely at all and doesn't meet the principles of informativeness in sociolinguistics!"
As a result,
The other end fell into a frustrating silence, really silent.
Zhen Ai felt a pang of regret; she hoped she hadn't hurt his self-esteem and enthusiasm for learning to chat.
After an unsettling quiet, his tone returned to its usual cool and arrogant demeanor: "I called to remind you to stay away from Zhao He; be careful he doesn't come to kill you."
"You jinx!" Zhen Ai hissed, making a ruckus as she sorted through her things.
"What are you doing? Demolishing your room?" His tone turned unfriendly; she could tell he was frowning.
"I'm cleaning up Jiang Xin's things."
His voice suddenly turned cold: "Are you at the crime scene?"
"Of course I—"
He hung up on her.
Zhen Ai stared at her phone screen, utterly incredulous.
During the time they were on the call, she had already packed the box. It had been days since anyone stayed in the dorm, and a layer of dust had settled, leaving her hands dirty.
She opened the bathroom door to wash her hands and caught her reflection in the mirror, instantly startled.
Written in bright red lipstick on the mirror were several sinister words, resembling blood at first glance:
"for you, a thousand miles!"
He was here!
Zhen Ai's face turned pale, her legs felt weak as she gripped the doorknob tightly, taking several seconds to regain her strength. Instinctively, she checked her waist; the gun was still there.
A moment of calmness washed over her.
Leaning against the door, she scanned the room. It was empty and silent, yet it suddenly felt terrifyingly unfamiliar.
Then, the room door slowly creaked open with a soft groan.