Nominal: Starting with an entrance exam for a PhD in Economics at Peking University

“I’ve already explained Cai Chenggong’s matter.” Ouyang Jing’s tone was genuinely weary. “What else do you want me to write?”

Zhong Xiaoai looked at her and slowly uttered two words: "All".

Ouyang Jing was stunned for a moment: "What?"

"All dealings with Cai Chenggong, all dealings with Wang Dalu, all the things you think need not be said, and all the things you think we don't know, everything."

"I've confessed everything."

“No,” Zhong Xiaoai shook her head. “Not at all.”

Ouyang Jing stared at her, and for the first time felt a real pressure on that calm face—not sharp, not angry, just the calmness itself, like a wall without gaps, no matter how you look, you can't find a place to pry it open.

She fell silent, refusing to write or speak.

Zhong Xiaoai stared intently at her, her tone calm but each word carrying weight: "Ouyang Jing, here, there is no right to remain silent."

Ouyang Jing was taken aback.

“You need to understand that this is the Z Discipline Inspection Commission's inspection team. Your ex-husband's influence doesn't extend here. You're not being interrogated by the judiciary; you're being investigated by the organization.” Zhong Xiaoai's tone was flat. “You're a Party member; you understand the difference between the two.”

Ouyang Jing gripped the edge of the table with her fingers.

She thought for a moment, then changed her tone, her voice carrying a calm, factual quality: "What Cai Chenggong gave me is actually industry practice; everyone involved in every project receives it, including our bank manager—"

“Speak your own business,” Zhong Xiaoai interrupted before she could finish, “Don’t ramble on.”

Chapter 141 Interrogation of Ouyang Jing (Part 2)

Ouyang Jing pursed her lips and remained silent.

Zhong Xiaoai pushed the paper in front of her: "Let's change the subject. Is there any financial transaction between you and Wang Dalu?"

Ouyang Jing's expression changed slightly, but she suppressed it, her tone weary: "Wang Dalu is my college classmate. We've known each other for thirty years. We have a normal friendship and no financial dealings."

Write it down.

"How do you write 'We've known each other for thirty years'?"

“We have plenty of time to start writing from the beginning.”

Ouyang Jing picked up a pen, wrote a few lines, and pushed it over.

Zhong Xiaoai looked at it, asked again, pushed it back, looked again, asked again. More than an hour passed, and Ouyang Jing put down her pen, showing no intention of picking it up again. She leaned back in her chair, her eyes filled with the weariness of someone who had exhausted themselves.

"I have nothing more to say." Her voice was hoarse, but the spirit in her bones had not completely dissipated. "I've said everything I need to say. If you have evidence, then produce it."

Zhong Xiaoai gave a cold laugh, paused for a moment, and then said, "It's still early."

"What do you mean 'it's too early'?" Ouyang Jing raised her eyelids.

“Ouyang Jing,” Zhong Xiaoai’s tone suddenly turned serious, not in a harsher tone, but in a way that carried a weight that was otherwise calm, “During your investigation, you repeatedly refused to cooperate, avoided core issues, and gave contradictory statements. Such behavior is clearly defined in the organization’s regulations.”

"What kind of characterization?"

"Resisting organizational censorship."

After those six words were spoken, the interrogation room fell silent for a moment.

“You’ve worked within the system for many years, you know better than I what this characterization means,” Zhong Xiaoai continued, her tone chillingly calm. “The difference between lenient and strict treatment in the final outcome is huge. In addition, in some cases, when the chain of evidence is incomplete, the doubtful parts will be judged by the investigators based on the overall situation—if a clear target cannot be found, we can only handle it flexibly.”

The words were spoken in a veiled manner, but Ouyang Jing, having been immersed in officialdom for over twenty years, understood them immediately.

Any unresolved issues will be your responsibility.

Her expression changed, darkened, she pursed her lips, then picked up her pen again and wrote a passage, longer than before, with much more illegible handwriting, but with much more substantial content.

Zhong Xiaoai took the book and read it, offering no praise, but simply turning to a new page and pushing it forward: "You skipped Wang Dalu's part, continue."

“Wang Dalu,” Ouyang Jing raised her head, a genuine confrontation appearing in her eyes for the first time, “I said, we have a normal friendship, with no financial dealings.”

"Write it down, not to make a definitive judgment, but to write down the details. Starting from your most recent meeting, the time, the place, what you talked about, who was present, and how long it lasted."

Ouyang Jing lowered her head, neither writing nor speaking.

The silence stretched long in the interrogation room.

Zhong Xiaoai waited a few minutes, then stood up and said to the staff at the door, "Shift change, the conversation continues."

The light was always on.

The incandescent light in the interrogation room was more even than the natural light outside, making it harder to feel the passage of time.

The daylight outside changed, but nothing inside changed. Every now and then, the person who came to question them changed their face, but the questions were just the same, circling around the gap in Wang Dalu.

As night fell, Ouyang Jing's hair was disheveled, her coat was off and draped over the back of a chair, and her eyes were bloodshot.

She was leaning on the table when she almost fell over once. She was startled awake, looked up blankly, and it took her a few seconds to remember where she was.

Zhong Xiaoai returned to relieve her shift and sat down opposite her. She began as usual, "Let's continue. Why did Wang Dalu contact you in July 2016, and how?"

"...I don't remember."

"If you don't remember, write that you don't remember, but write when was the last time you remembered it."

Ouyang Jing didn't pick up the pen; she simply lowered her head, her voice hoarse with utter exhaustion: "I want to sleep. You can't stop me from sleeping. This isn't the rule, this is..."

She took a breath and squeezed out the word: "This is a disrespect for human rights."

Zhong Xiaoai paused for a second, then smiled.

It wasn't sarcasm, nor contempt, but rather genuinely unexpected. After laughing, she spoke in a very flat tone: "You've been watching too many foreign TV dramas, haven't you, Ms. Ouyang Jing?"

Ouyang Jing raised her head, a hint of confusion in her eyes.

“The so-called human rights you see are only the parts that others are willing to let you see,” Zhong Xiaoai said, as if discussing an academic issue. “The parts you can’t see are far more terrifying than you imagine. So-called human rights are just a facade erected for others to see.”

She paused, then regained her composure: "Furthermore, Ms. Ouyang Jing, what right do you have to talk about human rights now?"

Ouyang Jing opened her mouth, but said nothing.

A few hours later, a faint ray of light appeared through the crack in the window.

Ouyang Jing's eyes were completely unfocused, her mind was like it was submerged in water, every thought had to be struggled to surface, and then sank back down, impossible to grasp.

Zhong Xiaoai observed her for a while, then circled back to the original question, asking softly as if casually:

"You and Wang Dalu are old classmates. Does your daughter Li Jiajia know him?"

Ouyang Jing's eyelids drooped, unaware that the question was different from before. In that hazy state of mind, she habitually answered, "I know."

"When and where did your daughter last meet with Wang Dalu?"

Normally, Ouyang Jing would immediately be alerted by such a question. But at this moment, her brain was nearing its limit after a long period of exertion, and the rhythm of the questioning had been trained to be almost a conditioned reflex: question, answer, question, answer—

“Last July, in the United States, at my daughter’s apartment, we cooked a meal to thank him for his support.”

After saying that, about two or three seconds later, Ouyang Jing suddenly looked up as if she had been pulled by something.

The adrenaline surged wildly, breaking through the fog in my mind.

“What I just said…” her voice trembled, “I misspoke. My daughter’s tuition was covered by student loans, and that dinner was for something else—”

“Your daughter’s expenses at the University of Chicago Booth School of Business, including her undergraduate studies, exceed six hundred thousand dollars. Moreover, we have already investigated and found that she did not use student loans.” Zhong Xiaoai placed a sheet of paper in front of her, her tone calm, as if she were reading a list that had been prepared in advance. “And neither Li Dakang nor you have converted a single penny of your salary into foreign currency and sent it out; it has all been spent on domestic consumption.”

Ouyang Jing stared at the paper, her lips moved as if trying to find a way out, but that way was blocked.

She gritted her teeth, trying to throw out her last excuse: "It was... the money I embezzled, which I gave to my daughter."

“We have verified your daughter’s accounts,” Zhong Xiaoai said without any change in tone. “This figure is not included in the bribery you confessed to.”

Ouyang Jing closed her eyes.

The interrogation room was quiet for a while.

Zhong Xiaoai pressed further: "Don't lie. We need to verify every single thing you tell us."

Then she opened her eyes, her throat felt heavy, and she said in a low, broken voice, "...It was Wang Dalu who sponsored it."

Zhong Xiaoai paused for a moment, then continued writing, adding the sentence to the material.

"Write down the form of funding, the amount, when it started, and through what channels."

Ouyang Jing offered no further resistance. The string that had been stretched for nearly thirty-six hours snapped completely after that one sentence. She lowered her head and spoke haltingly. Zhong Xiaoai wrote down every word, without urging or showing any expression, just waiting, letting those things that had been suppressed for so long gradually leak out.

When the staff came in, Ouyang Jing was leaning back in her chair, her eyes half-open, and her voice was so low that it was almost inaudible before she finally stopped.

"Take her downstairs to rest."

Ouyang Jing stood up, her steps unsteady, and was helped up.

She lowered her eyes and walked towards the door.

She paused when she reached the door.

She didn't look at Zhong Xiaoai, but kept her head down, staring intently at the stack of white papers on the table.

Her handwriting was on the white paper, crooked and messy, becoming increasingly illegible towards the end, but every page bore her signature.

She knew what that meant.

Wang Dalu can't escape.

Li Dakang is also in a tough spot.

Something was surging in her heart, she couldn't tell if it was hatred, regret, or some kind of deep-seated grievance—if Li Dakang had been willing to arrange a government-funded overseas study opportunity for his daughter back then, things wouldn't have come to this. It was such a simple thing, but he refused.

What could she do? Was she supposed to sacrifice her quality of life? Li Dakang thought the family had savings, but they didn't.

Wang Dalu was rich. When she divorced Li Dakang, she kept asking Wang Dalu for projects, hoping that he would continue to support her and her daughter through this.

It's a pity. Back in the day in America, when Wang Dalu paid for everything, it was truly paradise.

The staff were waiting at the door, and she finally lifted her foot and followed them out.

Zhong Xiaoai sat in her original position, neatly arranged the stack of white papers covered with writing on the table, put them into a folder, closed it, and fastened it.

Then she looked up and glanced in the direction Ouyang Jing had left.

There was no pity, no judgment in those eyes, just a very indifferent glance.

That went so smoothly!

P.S.: My abilities are indeed limited, but I still manage to write at least 4 words a day. It's just that often I don't have time to break down a chapter after finishing one.