Episode 16: The Showdown of the Two Peaks

Outside the police station, crowds of protesting fan groups had gathered — fans of Xia Zilan and Fan Zhiqi, the two camps at daggers drawn, each fighting tooth and nail for their own idol. But Fan Zhiqi's fans were clearly outmatched in numbers by Xia Zilan's fan group; with Fan Zhiqi's scandals recently exposed, only a few “die-hard fans” refused to believe the online revelations, insisting they were mere rumours.

But the moment Xia Zilan's fans produced evidence, they were instantly struck dumb. The officers keeping order were also at their wits' end — in recent days they had already been driven to distraction by enthusiastic members of the public, to the point that the mere sound of a telephone ringing gave them psychological trauma.

Today, with these celebrities' fan groups causing a stir, the whole police station was very lively — there were even more onlookers than fans. Wang Yuan stood between the two camps, shouting at the top of his voice: “Everyone, don't rush! Whatever it is, let's talk it over slowly!”

One fan said angrily, “If we have to apologise, what are the police for?”

Another fan said, “Exactly! Fan Zhiqi is just a liar!”

“You're talking nonsense!” retorted a fan in a flowered outfit. “Our Fanfan is not at all like you say...”

“You're the one talking nonsense!” a fan in white shot back. “Fan Zhiqi is just a drinking-companion boy...”

Wang Yuan really couldn't stand it any more. He had never felt so miserable — this was harder than mediating for the neighbourhood aunties in the street. He shouted, “Stop arguing, all of you! If you keep arguing, your big stars won't get to go home.”

Instant silence fell, and he breathed a sigh of relief, whispering to the officer behind him, “Fans chasing idols all the way to the police station — what kind of thing is that?”

At that moment, Bai Yujing walked out of the police station. She gave Wang Yuan a cold look, took the loudspeaker from his hand, and called out softly, “Dear fan sisters, I know you're very anxious. Don't worry, Xia Zilan is fine.” She shifted her tone, easing the tense atmosphere. “On Xia Zilan's behalf, I thank all our fan friends for your concern!”

Wang Yuan was stunned by her commanding presence. He said quietly to the officer beside him, “Truly a strong woman — that aura is simply queen-level.”

Bai Yujing turned to look at him. She put away that stern expression and said gently, “Don't be misled by the rumours online. Treat this matter rationally, and don't let your thinking be led.”

One fan shouted, “Sister Bai, we're just afraid Zilan is being bullied. All those entertainment-industry scandals online are true, and we...”

Another fan said hurriedly, “Yes! Zilan is such a good brother. We don't want anything to happen to him, and we're afraid the police will cover up for criminals.”

Wang Yuan looked embarrassed and blurted out, “Our police will handle cases according to the evidence.”

One fan retorted, “Then why hasn't the truth of the Yu Mengge case been made public?”

The scene fell completely silent, so quiet it was chilling.

The interrogation room lights were glaringly bright. On the table lay two very different statements — one was Xia Zilan's testimony, the other was Lu Zilan's confession.

The pen in Situ Hengyi's hand spun between his knuckles and, with a ‘clack’, fell onto the table. The dim light was very uncomfortable, and the clock on the wall ticked away second by second. He had never handled a case arising from a fight like this. He looked up at Xia Zilan, whose face was bruised, with Qin Shaohua sitting beside him, looking very refined. “Lawyer Qin, your artist beat and injured someone. The video from the scene is all there — what is there left to argue?”

Qin Shaohua sat upright opposite him, in a crisp suit and neat shirt, gold-rimmed glasses giving him a distinctive air, his tone so flat it was almost cold: “Officer Situ, I haven't come to argue, but to make sure his rights are not over-‘reasoned’ away by you.”

“Rights?” Situ Hengyi sneered. “The man who was beaten is still lying in hospital with an intracranial haemorrhage. You call that rights?”

Qin Shaohua looked up, meeting his gaze directly: “Then why don't you ask who provoked first? Who bought the trending searches in advance? Who is behind the scenes pushing this script of ‘fans tearing each other apart’?”

He pushed a file across, his expression unchanged, his look focused, his fingers tapping lightly on the cover, and said coldly: “Tianze Entertainment's PR department — shouldn't they also come in for questioning?”

Situ Hengyi put down his pen and leaned back in his chair, his eyes darkening: “Where do you want to steer this case?”

“Toward the truth!” Qin Shaohua said, looking at him with a stern face, coldly: “It's just that your ‘truth’ never includes capital.”

Situ Hengyi thought for a moment, his expression showing, and replied coldly, “Lawyer Qin, you want to overstep again?”

Qin Shaohua smiled faintly. “You and I are both in the middle ground — that grey zone. Overstep? It was never me overstepping; it is power that keeps overstepping.”

Xia Zilan, listening to their conversation, was completely bewildered. He pressed his lower lip and said quietly, “You knew each other already?”

Situ Hengyi regained his calm expression, turned to Xia Zilan, and said quietly, “Xia Zilan, have you no brain? That Lu Zilan is a professional troll — he just wanted to provoke you and manufacture a topic for public opinion.” He glanced at Qin Shaohua again and sneered, “Is Tianze behind this?”

Just then, Bai Yujing, having dealt with the station's fan groups, pushed open the door. The moment she entered, she heard them saying someone had deliberately manufactured public opinion and even hired professional trolls. A tremor ran through her, and she said faintly, “It was Jiang Yanzhou. I know his methods.”

Situ Hengyi repeated, “That agent?”

Qin Shaohua was not at all surprised. He leaned back in his chair, turned to look at Xia Zilan, and said gently, “Has he taken a fancy to you?”

Xia Zilan felt goosebumps all over. He shook his head, swallowed, and said quietly, “Lawyer Qin, what do you mean by that?”

Qin Shaohua rested his chin on one hand, his face icy yet carrying a hint of chill, and replied, “Hunting! They are looking for prey!”

The air instantly tensed. For a time, only the ticking of the clock on the wall could be heard. The whole atmosphere seemed murky, as if a layer of fog covered their eyes, so they could not see the road ahead clearly.

Situ suddenly stood up and lowered his voice: “What are you covering up?”

Qin Shaohua also stood up, so the two stood almost face to face.

“I'm protecting evidence,” Qin Shaohua said coldly. “But if you really want to investigate, investigate this properly — the assistant beside Xia Zilan at the time was sent by Tianze to watch him. Look into that person.”

Situ Hengyi was taken aback. That assistant's file was indeed incomplete, a blank record, long since wiped clean. “Is Tianze an agency at all? Or a man-eating demon's den?”

He narrowed his eyes. “What do you know?”

Qin Shaohua smiled slightly, his left hand clasped on the table, tapping once. “Tianze assigns an assistant to every artist, and those assistants are all there to watch them.”

Bai Yujing calmed down and asked again, “Impossible. Xia Zilan's assistants are all chosen by me. How could they be arranged by Tianze Entertainment?”

Qin Shaohua's eyes held a cold glint as he said coldly, “Xia Zilan is now a top trending star, so popular he's almost overripe. Look at how crazy his fans are — when something happens, they run straight to the police station. If we don't release him soon, they'll probably smash up the station.”

Hearing this, Situ Hengyi couldn't help feeling a little awkward. He coughed lightly: “Lawyer Qin, you seem to really want something to happen to our police station?”

Qin Shaohua kept a cool head, his expression suddenly shifting, with a cold smile: “I don't know. I only know that if you investigate too fast, you'll die too soon.”

A vein throbbed at Situ Hengyi's temple: “Are you threatening me?”

“A reminder.”

Qin Shaohua turned, gathered his briefcase, his tone as calm and unhurried as if reciting a verdict.

“I'm different from you, Officer Situ. You want to find the truth; I want to destroy the system.”

The door was pushed open with a ‘bang’. As he left, the rush of air lifted the statement papers on the table, and the words fluttered in the lamplight — like some torn-apart truth.

Situ Hengyi stared at his retreating back and said quietly, “A lawyer? No, you're simply a sinner who has barged into the law.”

The sound of the door closing echoed down the corridor for a long time. Qin Shaohua left with Xia Zilan.

Bai Yujing calmly left one parting remark: “Officer Situ, be careful of Jiang Yanzhou!”

The whole interrogation room was strangely quiet, with only the white lamp on the wall flickering slightly, like breathing.

He had crossed swords with Qin Shaohua several times before. He had always walked in the grey zone of the law. In his eyes, Qin Shaohua was not a qualified lawyer, but he was indeed an outstanding advocate. He had never really understood him, yet he always gave off a distinctive air.

Situ Hengyi stood where he was, his fingers still gripping the edge of the table, as the words “If you investigate too fast, you'll die too soon” circled round and round in his mind.

He loathed threats — especially from someone who looked refined but was icy to the bone.

But he equally disliked intuition, because his intuition told him — Qin Shaohua was not just a lawyer.

He sat down again and opened Xia Zilan's statement. A corner of the paper was lifted by the wind, revealing a small note pressed underneath, unsigned, with only a few words written in fountain pen: “Zone 17B underground warehouse — don't trust the surveillance.”

The handwriting was cold and severe, the strokes sharp and decisive. Situ Hengyi froze for an instant. That was Qin Shaohua's handwriting.

He looked up at the surveillance camera in the corner. The red dot was still blinking.

He reached out and switched off the recorder. At once, everything around him fell into an eerie silence.

That silence felt as if someone were watching him from the dark, as if the whole police station were holding its breath. There had always been a mole inside the station — it seemed they had long been watching the case he was investigating.

He slipped the note into his pocket and murmured quietly, “So you were laying bait...”

Xiong Shubo poked his head in: “Team leader, Lu Zilan's family is making a scene over there. Should we step in?”

Situ Hengyi's expression calmed, though his tone was cold and hard. “Let them make a scene for now. Notify the technical investigation team to check Tianze Entertainment's PR department intranet, especially the surveillance port codenamed ‘Zone B Warehouse’.”

“Check it now?” Xiong Shubo froze. “But that's inside Tianze Company — we haven't applied—”

“I'll approve it.”

He looked up, his gaze like a blade.

After the man left, he turned again to the case file on the table, blown into disarray by the wind.

At the very bottom of the page, a note was printed with a mark he had never noticed before — HX-17.

Meanwhile, inside Tianze Entertainment, things were already in a complete bustle. The Judge's livestream had set them suspecting each other internally, and public doubts, and even Tianze itself, had been hit by a storm of public opinion, while its parent company, Xingyao Media, saw its stock plunge, wiping more than 18 billion from its market value. He Yuchuan still wanted to dilute the public opinion with various online scandals, but he had not expected that this storm simply would not stop — it only grew fiercer, until it was completely out of control.

Several artists under Tianze Entertainment were also accused of immoral conduct, even of taking part in the money-laundering scandal and helping the murderer do evil. Fan Zhiqi, frightened out of his wits by the Judge a few days earlier, had already been completely abandoned by Tianze Entertainment. He faced cancelled contracts, and advertisers demanding compensation for losses, while the public boycott continued, and the company bosses, for the sake of profit, could only sacrifice a pawn to save the rook.

Song Yiyi and Fan Zhiqi, after the Judge exposed their crimes, were like evil spirits in the human world — alive, yet mere walking corpses, becoming objects of public condemnation.

To recover some losses, He Yuchuan, faced with public accusations and multiple homicides, all implicating Tianze Entertainment, with the storm dragging them into endless hell, could only shelve the two of them. This storm had already stirred up a raging tempest across the whole entertainment industry.

Fan Zhiqi's mental state had reached repeated panic. Seeing Shen Yao and Du Feng executed by the Judge, seeing them publicly judged, had become his daily nightmare. He could hardly sleep. Every night he would see Yu Mengge's hateful eyes just before death. Highly strung, he was almost going mad.

He had originally thought that soon no one would remember him, but fate seemed to have played a joke on him. He had come back like a ghost to take revenge on every one of them. He gazed at his dishevelled reflection in the mirror — the once high-spirited young man was gone, and the person standing in the mirror was instead a shell swallowed by the times.

The Judge had installed surveillance in his apartment, and knew his every move very well, and had even installed in his home that recording of Yu Mengge crying out for help just before death. His memory seemed to return to that moment three years ago.

He had been driven completely mad, his mind full of that cry for help...

When he woke from his dream, he found himself in a sealed space. He did not know when he had been brought here. He smiled bitterly at his life, recalling everything — from when he entered show business, he had stopped at nothing to get ahead, even selling his own dignity, becoming a plaything kept by the powerful. But he only wanted fame; he did not want to be an unknown nobody, but a public figure in the spotlight. Where exactly had he gone wrong?

From the other end of the electronic broadcast, a voice asked, “Have you ever regretted it?”

Fan Zhiqi laughed wildly: “There is no medicine for regret in this world. To get ahead, you have to stop at nothing. This world was always like this. I'm not wrong! He was too foolish, insisting on obeying some morality. He was just too naive. I kept using him, and in the end he died anyway.”

The Judge asked coldly through the electronic voice, “Then what did you gain?”

Fan Zhiqi's eyes shifted. He froze for a moment, tears in his eyes, then laughed wildly: “I gained fame and profit, benefits. This circle was always like this. He was too foolish, unwilling to bow his head.” He gritted his teeth, muttering hatefully: “I hate him — hate him for being too outstanding, hate him for not understanding how the world works. I could clearly have been better than him, so why did so many people still like him!”

The Judge said coldly through the electronic voice: “Today, I have not come to judge you, but to send you to hell. You killed his most beloved dog...”

Before he finished speaking, Fan Zhiqi turned and saw that the cages held several hunting dogs. They had been starved for days, and seeing Fan Zhiqi was like seeing prey, letting out roars. Frightened, he shouted, “I don't want to die! I was only following orders. Please don't kill me, I'll tell everything.”

The Judge looked coldly at Fan Zhiqi in the camera, without any sympathy, and said sternly: “Whether you tell or not no longer matters. You don't deserve to live. Hell is where you most belong!”

With that, he pressed the button. The cages opened, and the hunting dogs charged out madly, staring with blood-red eyes at the prey before them, drooling. Fan Zhiqi stepped back several paces, screaming loudly, “Don't come over! I was wrong! Please don't kill me...”

By now he looked exactly like a prey animal — tearing sounds, wild barking, pitiful cries, all echoing through the whole night sky in broken sounds —

The Judge was unusually calm. He turned, picked up a photograph, and drew an × on Fan Zhiqi's face. He gazed at the moon in the night sky, now bright, now dim. The truth was drawing closer step by step, while the Yu Mengge case returned to public view and became a hot topic, and another storm was about to arrive.