Suddenly, a harsh metal scraping sound pierced the silence of the night.
Chen Biao strode forward and forcefully pulled open the rusty roll-up door.
A dozen pairs of eyes turned simultaneously, and the air was thick with a suffocating tension.
Seeing Wang Yang's Adam's apple move slightly, he took a deep breath and turned to Li Changhe, his gaze sharp as a knife.
"Li Changhe!"
Wang Yang's voice was low and powerful, each word piercing the ears of everyone present like nails.
"You'd better confess honestly."
"Did you hit the victim with your car and then dispose of the body at North Mountain?"
Li Changhe's body visibly swayed.
Instinctively, he looked towards his wife in the corner, her pale face full of terror.
Silence weighed heavily on everyone's hearts like a stone, and after a dozen seconds, Li Changhe spoke hoarsely: "No... I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't know?"
Wang Yang sneered, "Where were you on May 18th?"
"I... I was at home farming."
