Inside Interrogation Room No. 1, the cold white light made the cramped space as bright as day.
Wang Yang and Zhou Yong sat once again at the interrogation table, exchanging a knowing glance as they embarked on a new round of questioning.
He fixed his eyes on the young man opposite, named Wang Ming, trying to find a breakthrough in every subtle change in the young man's expressions.
However, the next half-hour of continuous interrogation felt like hitting cotton with a fist.
No matter how they changed their interrogation strategy, Wang Ming maintained an annoying calm.
This dark-skinned young man only mechanically repeated the same set of words: "I really just hauled some fruit and don't know anything else."
His voice was as calm as still water, without any change in tone.
At that moment, Wang Yang subconsciously tightened his grip on the pen in his hand, his knuckles whitening from the pressure.
