Something is off, definitely off.
Nan Zhan's intuition told him that Yuan Xiaoqian must have been murdered.
But where's the evidence? Where's the method of the crime?
Nan Zhan took the note to Qin Yong and Feng Guang, who were brought to another room by Leng Shaoqing, to identify it.
Upon seeing the writing, Feng Guang covered his face again, weeping inconsolably: "This is Xiaoxian's handwriting. Why—she was never a greedy girl. Why would she steal a bracelet and even commit murder? I can't believe it."
"Feng Guang, where were you fifteen minutes ago?"
Feng Guang lifted his swollen eyes: "I went outside to gather fireworks."
Qin Yong said, "Yes, it was me who asked him to. Many people must have seen him."
"And what about you, Housekeeper Qin?"
"I was also gathering fireworks."
Nan Zhan nodded: "Secure the scene, wait for the police."
He returned to the room upstairs, sat down on a chair, and lit a cigarette.
Soon, a cup of coffee was placed on the table in front of him.
