Blazing Armor

The two men walked into the interrogation room. Chen Pei raised his head at the sound, his face expressionless, and his tired eyes didn’t even register their presence. He seemed completely empty.

Gong Yingxian sat down opposite Chen Pei, staring at him intently.

Ren Yi leaned against the wall to the side. He still remembered the scene the last time Gong Yingxian faced Chen Pei; he had to be on guard to prevent Gong from losing control again.

Soon after, Qiu Yan also walked in, holding a stack of documents, and took a seat on the other side.

Gong Yingxian stared coldly into Chen Pei’s eyes. “Haven’t you been wanting to see me? Didn’t you say there were things you could only tell me in person? Well, now’s your chance. Speak.”

Chen Pei lazily shifted in his chair. “Is what I did a guaranteed death sentence?”

“The police only investigate the case; the court hands down the sentence.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” Chen Pei sneered. “My lawyer told me that there’s a big difference between intentional arson and accidental manslaughter. I really didn’t mean to kill anyone. For the few thousand he gave me, it wasn’t worth taking a bullet. How was I supposed to know the fire would spread so far?”

“That’s something you can explain to the judge.”

“I don’t want to die either. Who wants to die, right?” Chen Pei looked at Gong Yingxian. “I know a lot of things you guys want to know, but if I’m already a dead man, why should I tell you?”

“You want to make a deal.” Qiu Yan laughed coldly. “Someone just tried that before you. You know him well—Zhou Chuan. He gave you all up in exchange for being held in a hospital instead of a detention center. And guess what…” Qiu Yan leaned forward slightly, his sharp eyes piercing into Chen Pei’s, forming the word “bang” with his full lips.

Chen Pei’s face grew darker. “I’m dead either way. Might as well go out with a bang.”

“If you were really ready to die, you wouldn’t have asked to see me,” Gong Yingxian tapped the table. “And before you try to negotiate, you should think carefully about whether your bargaining chips are worth anything. Why should we believe your information has any value?”

Chen Pei chuckled lightly. “Cut the act, Officer Gong. I’m banking on your reaction when you heard about the bird mask last time.”

Gong Yingxian’s eyes narrowed.

“I’ll give you a freebie. That man with the bird mask? Hong Yan knows him.”

Gong Yingxian’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his fists clenching beneath the table, his gaze practically devouring Chen Pei.

Usually, Gong Yingxian was a calm, almost excessively composed person. But when it came to the massacre that happened to him years ago, controlling his emotions became much more difficult.

Afraid that Chen Pei might provoke Gong again, Ren Yi quickly interjected, “You’re not the arsonist, and you’re not with Seraphim. You only had contact with Hong Yan, so obviously it was him who told you. That makes what you just said worthless. We already figured that out a long time ago.”

Qiu Yan nodded. “Still no value.”

“Wrong.” Chen Pei said, “He didn’t tell me. And if I don’t say anything, you’ll never figure out how I know.”

Qiu Yan said, “Chen Pei, you seem to misunderstand the situation. It’s not us begging you to talk, it’s you begging us. You don’t want to die, so you need to do everything in your power to earn yourself some merit. Our investigation results will have a significant impact on your sentencing.”

Chen Pei stayed silent.

“You don’t really have a choice. If you don’t talk, it’s almost guaranteed to be a death sentence. If you do, there’s a chance you might live. Knowing that you’re as good as dead either way, shouldn’t you at least try to save yourself? And yet, you still hold a grudge against us?” Qiu Yan shook his head and sighed softly, his tone suddenly softening. “Chen Pei, are we really your enemies? Yes, we arrested you, but we were just doing our jobs. We have no personal grudge against you. Think about it carefully—are we really your enemies? The law won’t help you, and Hong Yan just wants to kill you to cover his tracks. Right now, we’re the only ones who can truly help you.”

Inwardly, Ren Yi silently applauded.

He had listened in on several interrogations and realized that Qiu Yan’s interrogation skills far surpassed those of Gong Yingxian. Gong was incredibly smart, adept at spotting logical flaws, and skilled at using his sharp judgment and solid evidence to break down suspects. However, he wasn’t great at social interactions; he struggled even with regular people, let alone criminals. His confrontational approach with suspects often made them afraid to speak, or at the very least, made it more difficult to extract useful information.

Qiu Yan, on the other hand, could switch between hard and soft tactics seamlessly. She could apply pressure or soften her approach as needed, and in certain situations, she even used her identity as a woman to lower the other party’s defenses. She clearly knew how to extract the most value at the least cost.

As expected, there was a slight shift in Chen Pei’s expression.

Qiu Yan said, “If you tell us everything you know, it will significantly help reduce your sentence.”

“How do I know you’re not just bluffing me?” Chen Pei looked Qiu Yan up and down, leering. “With a look like that, I bet you’re pretty good at stringing men along, huh?”

Gong Yingxian’s face darkened, and he was about to speak when Qiu Yan raised a hand to stop him. She smiled, curling her lips. “Right now, your only option is to trust us. Trust us, and there’s hope; if not, you’ve got nothing.”

Chen Pei’s facial muscles stiffened, and his gaze became unsteady.

“Come on, tell us the whole story from the beginning, and try to make a deal for yourself.”

Chen Pei was silent for a moment before saying, “I want a smoke.”

Qiu Yan pulled out a pack of cigarettes, took one, and placed it in Chen Pei’s mouth, lighting it for him.

Chen Pei took a deep drag, relaxing into his chair as if savoring the smoke.

The three of them watched him quietly.

“When I was in prison, I met a fellow inmate,” Chen Pei said. “Don’t bother trying to track him down; the guy had a stroke in prison and died.”

Gong Yingxian gripped his pen firmly, his voice commanding. “Name.”

“Liu Dayong. He was a gas thief, got locked up for slashing a truck driver.” Chen Pei exhaled smoke rings as he spoke. “We shared a cell and got along well. During one of our bullshit sessions, he told me about something that happened back in the day. He and his crew used to target long-haul trucks at highway gas stations, stealing fuel from their tanks.”

“Where did he usually operate?”

“Mostly in nearby cities. They picked remote, quiet gas stations,” Chen Pei continued. “One night, they were staking out a gas station, waiting for some night drivers to stop for a break, around three or four in the morning. A car pulled up for gas. It was a black sedan, the kind that was pretty expensive back then.”

“Does he remember what kind of car it was or the license plate?”

“He didn’t know cars, and he didn’t pay attention to the plate. But it was strange—a luxury sedan like that showing up at a deserted gas station in the middle of the night. The guy filled up and drove off. All normal so far.”

Everyone was listening intently, sensing the important part was coming.

“But after a while, the car came back and refueled again.”

“How much time passed between the two stops?”

“About half an hour. No way the gas could’ve run out in that time, but the guy came back and filled up again. Then he pulled over, went to the bathroom, and tossed a big box in the trash before driving away.”

At this point, everyone was still confused.

“Back then, everyone was poor,” Chen Pei continued. “Liu Dayong thought that guy must be rich, so he decided to check out what he’d thrown away. He dug through the trash and found a pastry box. When he opened it, it was filled with food wrappers, drink cans, receipts, maps, and scraps of paper. It was all junk, but it was arranged so neatly, like it was a gift.” Chen Pei paused. “A few of the scraps of paper had drawings on them, done with red paint markers. The drawings were weird—mostly regular shapes like circles, squares, and triangles. Even the more complex designs were perfectly symmetrical. There were also some lines, all meticulously straight. Even the wavy lines had uniform curves and spacing. And on one of the papers, there was a perfectly symmetrical drawing of a bird mask.”

Gong Yingxian’s breathing became heavier.

Chen Pei flicked the ash from his cigarette onto the floor. “Liu Dayong thought it was useless and tossed it back. The guy seemed strange, but Liu didn’t think much of it. The next day, your family made the news.”

Gong Yingxian’s lips trembled slightly. “How do you know about me?”

“Don’t rush, listen to the whole story.” Chen Pei leaned back. “Liu Dayong lived not far from your family’s place. A lot of people went to gawk after they heard what happened. The scene was cordoned off, but they were still removing things from the site. One of the items was a plastic barrel—just an ordinary white plastic barrel, the kind with different capacities. Liu used similar barrels when he stole fuel. The barrel was half-burned, but there was a red, wavy line painted on it with the same paint marker. The line was exactly like the one on that piece of scrap paper.”

Qiu Yan frowned. “Then why didn’t he report it?”

Chen Pei chuckled. “Report it? How? What would he say? ‘Hey, officer, I was stealing fuel in the middle of the night and saw someone acting strange’? Liu Dayong treated it like just another wild story. Even if he had suspicions, why would he invite trouble? It wasn’t his problem.”

“…And then?” Gong Yingxian asked in a low voice.

“There were all sorts of tall tales in prison, ones even more far-fetched than this. I just treated it as another story and forgot about it,” Chen Pei said. “After I got out, I drifted around looking for work, and somehow, Hong Yan got in touch with me. You know the rest from there.”

“You still haven’t explained how you know about me or why you mentioned the bird mask.”

Chen Pei took the last drag of his cigarette. “After I set fire to 2209, I realized things had gone south. I thought Hong Yan’s few thousand yuan wasn’t worth the risk. He had mentioned that he would buy any surveillance footage, so I waited for him to reach out. Sure enough, he contacted me. I asked him for 200,000, and he said fine, but I’d have to do one more job. He offered me 400,000.”

Ren Yi tensed up. “The target was us?”

Chen Pei nodded and looked straight at Gong Yingxian. “He also said if I could livestream it, the pay would be even higher. He gave me a file on you guys, and that’s when I found out your last name was Gong. You were the kid from that family back then. That’s when I remembered what Liu Dayong had told me.”

Ren Yi felt a chill run down his spine. So, back then, Hong Yan was already plotting against them, but he hadn’t found the right person for the job. Ren gritted his teeth. “And how did you know that guy was part of their organization?”

“I asked. After going through the file, I straight-up asked him: ‘Was that fire back then your doing too?'”

Qiu Yan’s voice lost its composure as he sharply asked, “How did he answer?!”

Chen Pei replied, “He said, ‘You don’t need to know that.’ Doesn’t that make it even more suspicious?”

Gong Yingxian lowered his head, struggling to suppress the fury burning inside him.

“Later, as your crackdown intensified, I just wanted to run. I demanded money from Hong Yan and threatened him, telling him I knew who was behind the case from back then. I dropped a few hints, like the black sedan, the fuel drum with the painted lines, and the bird mask. When I mentioned the bird mask, he reacted and said we should meet to talk.”

“So, all you actually know is what Liu Dayong told you,” Qiu Yan said.

A dangerous glint appeared in Chen Pei’s eyes. “Exactly. It seems like the bird mask is pretty damn important, which is why I used it to mess with you when you arrested me.”