Chapter 355: Traced back to you
Chen Li’s sobs echoed harshly inside the interrogation room, but the more she cried, the more distorted and pitiful she looked. Years of careful grooming, expensive skincare, and cultivated elegance crumbled under the fluorescent lights, leaving behind a woman whose desperation could not be hidden. Her voice cracked, her makeup streaked messily down her face, and her once-proud posture collapsed in on itself. Yet for all her wailing, not a single officer looked moved. The only person who reacted was Hua Mingrong.
He rushed forward as if pulled by instinct, clasping Chen Li’s trembling hands through the metal bars. His fingers fumbled as he tried to wipe her tears away, his voice low and urgent, filled with panic he could no longer suppress. Chen Li clung to him desperately, gripping his sleeves as though he were the last piece of driftwood in a raging sea. "Husband," she cried hoarsely, "that illegitimate daughter of yours called the police on me. I didn’t do anything wrong. You have to get me out of here. You must."
She had lived her entire life wrapped in privilege. Born into wealth, married into power, she had never known what it meant to be cornered with nowhere to retreat. The moment she was brought into the police station, the illusion of dignity she had relied on shattered completely. The cold bench, the iron bars, the stale air—it all made her skin crawl. She could barely breathe, barely think. Staying here even a moment longer felt unbearable.
Hua Jing watched the scene quietly, her gaze sharp and unyielding. When she finally spoke, her voice was calm, almost cold, cutting cleanly through Chen Li’s hysterics. "You don’t want to be here?" she asked flatly. "Then you shouldn’t have committed a crime as serious as murder."
The word landed like a thunderclap.
Chen Li froze for a split second before her expression twisted into something feral. She suddenly lunged forward, rattling the bars as she screamed, "Murder? Murder? Who did I murder? How dare you accuse me!" Her eyes were bloodshot, her voice shrill. "It was your stupid mother! Her life was short-lived. What does that have to do with me? I didn’t do anything!"
Hua Mingrong stiffened, shock and anger flaring across his face. "Enough!" he barked, turning sharply toward Hua Jing. "What nonsense are you spouting? There is no way she killed your mother. Who do you think you’re fooling? Your mother died young, yes, but how could that possibly be anyone’s fault?"
For a brief moment, Hua Jing was speechless.
She stared at the man in front of her—the man who had once been her father in name, the man whose choices had set everything in motion. It was he who had pursued her mother relentlessly when she was nothing more than a servant in the Hua household. He had admired her beauty, coveted her gentleness, and in doing so, planted the seed of hatred that would later grow into something monstrous. He had turned a blind eye, again and again, to Chen Li’s malice. And in the end, his indulgence had cost her mother her life.
How could she explain all of that to him now?
Hua Jing inhaled slowly, forcing down the storm of emotions threatening to surge free. When she spoke again, her tone was steady, but every word carried weight. "It doesn’t matter whether you believe me or not," she said. "The evidence has already been submitted. There’s no escaping it."
Chen Li shook her head violently, her lips trembling as she muttered, "Impossible. Impossible. This is all impossible." Her eyes darted wildly, as though searching for an escape that no longer existed.
Hua Jing stepped closer, her gaze locking onto Chen Li’s face. "There’s one thing you seem to have forgotten," she said quietly. "On the day my mother died, someone witnessed everything."
Chen Li’s breathing hitched.
"That person," Hua Jing continued, her voice unwavering, "was me."
All the color drained from Chen Li’s face.
Memories came crashing back in a horrifying rush—the faint sound behind her that day, the sudden unease she had felt, the way she had ordered the servants to search the area afterward. They had found nothing. She had assumed it was paranoia, brushed it aside, convinced herself she was safe. What she never knew was that Hua Jing had been taken away that very day by Fu Jingrong, still young, still powerless, shielding her from the aftermath she could not yet bear.
Hua Jing herself had buried those memories deep. The pain had been too great, too overwhelming for a child to endure. It was only after waking from the coma, after piecing together fragments from another life, that the truth had surfaced again—clear, sharp, and unforgiving. And with it came a hatred so profound that it left her hands trembling.
Chen Li’s lips moved soundlessly as she whispered over and over, "Impossible... impossible..."
Hua Mingrong looked between them, his mind reeling. "Stop this," he shouted hoarsely at Hua Jing. "This is madness. You’re lying. You must be lying."
Hua Jing met his gaze, and in her eyes, there was nothing left but icy resolve. "You were the beginning of all of this," she said. "If you hadn’t gone after my mother, if you hadn’t brought her into this house, none of it would have happened. Her death, my suffering—every bit of it traces back to you!"
Hua Mingrong’s face drained of all color.
He staggered back a step, his mind reeling as fragments of the past came crashing down on him one after another. Ling Mu’s gentle smile, her quiet beauty, the way she used to lower her head shyly whenever he approached. Back then, he had told himself it was fate. He had told himself that feelings could not be controlled, that even as a married man, he was still human. He had wanted her—wanted her badly—and he had never truly denied it.
But no matter how much he searched his memories, no matter how hard he tried to connect the dots, he could not accept this.
He could not believe that Ling Mu’s death had anything to do with Chen Li.
"No," he muttered, shaking his head as if that alone could erase the accusation. His eyes snapped toward Hua Jing, bloodshot and desperate. "It’s not my fault. This isn’t my fault." His voice rose, trembling with both anger and panic. "Your mother and I... we loved each other. It was mutual. You were born from that love. So how can you say such things to me?" He took a step forward, almost pleading. "I am your father!"
