Wang Zhuo was utterly astonished. Hadn't the reports indicated the male victim was stabbed seven times and the female victim sexually assaulted?

How had it morphed into the husband sexually assaulting his wife before stabbing himself seven times and dying? He suddenly recalled a crucial piece of evidence and urgently inquired, "What about the condom?

Was it found?" "Where would we find that?" Yuanye gave a dry laugh. "Someone analyzed that it must have been flushed down the toilet, and the prosecution accepted that explanation." "Bullshit!" Wang Zhuo slammed his thigh in anger.

"What kind of logic is that? It doesn't hold water!

Let's deduce this: the man first raped his wife while wearing a condom, then killed both his wife and daughter, and finally stabbed himself seven times before dying. In that psychological state, do you think he still needed a condom?

Did he need to flush it down the toilet? Or perhaps I should ask, how was the theory of him stabbing himself seven times even established?" "Ah," Yuanye coughed dryly and said with an awkward smile, "In any case, that's how the case is closed.

All three of them are dead. The man had no relatives, and now the female victim's family has inherited the estate.

Why bother chasing it further? Jiangzhou City got rid of a drug user, and the household registry gained three new slots—why sweat the details?" Wang Zhuo fell silent.

Isn't that exactly what happened? Blame the entire affair on a dead man who can't speak for himself, a dead man with no one to advocate for him.

What case is easier to close than that? The police gain a reputation for swift resolution, boost their clearance rate, perhaps even earn a bonus.

The deceased's family walks away with a substantial inheritance—a house worth at least three or four million. Everyone's happy!

As for whether a real criminal is still walking free? Who cares?

Heaven knows, and even if they are, what of it? Sighing inwardly, Wang Zhuo casually asked, "Right, didn't that man have a history of drug use?

Did they manage to pin any cold cases on him because of that?" "I won't hide it from you," Yuanye whispered with a hint of schadenfreude. "They did consider pinning a few unsolved cold cases on him, but the team handling this murder wouldn't agree.

Guess why?" Wang Zhuo pondered for a moment and guessed, "Because it would involve compensation. Are the case handlers afraid the female victim's family, who stand to inherit, would object?" "Exactly!

As expected of Wang Zhuo, you figured it out!" Yuanye didn't say this to flatter; he was genuinely impressed. "If old cases were tied to this man, the victims from those cases would demand compensation.

That would reduce the inheritance from this family annihilation case, and the wife's family would certainly object. Wouldn't that prevent the massacre case from being closed?" What utter nonsense!

Wang Zhuo was left speechless. The victim's heirs waiting for the inheritance, the police eager to close the file—the two sides colluded seamlessly, completely disregarding the dead man's dignity and feelings.

Preposterous! "This case has certainly opened my eyes," he said with a wry smile.

"Yuanye, let's talk more about this next time we meet. I'm busy right now; I need to hang up." "Oh, wait," Yuanye rushed to say.

"The wife's family donated the bodies of the three of them. Maybe your school will receive them.

You might end up performing dissections on this very family during your next practical session!" ... Wang Zhuo's good mood was utterly ruined!

Funeral costs these days are indeed exorbitant, criminally so. Thinking of standing before the three-meter-tall bronze lions at the entrance of the Civil Affairs Bureau and cursing their ancestors felt justified.

But for a family owning a modern apartment in Jiangzhou, the proceeds from selling that house, even a fraction of it, would be more than enough for the trio to secure a fine burial plot in some beautiful, secluded city. Yet, the wife's family donated the bodies—to save on funeral expenses!

Their actions are unforgivable; their hearts deserve severe condemnation! He was still simmering with anger, sitting on the edge of the bed with his hands on his hips, a look of indignation fixed on his face, when Bailu emerged shyly from the bathroom.

"Wang Zhuo? What's wrong?" Bailu quickly composed herself, setting aside her shyness, and walked over to Wang Zhuo, looking puzzled.

Wang Zhuo shook his head with a bitter smile. "Don't even mention it.

I heard something so utterly shameless that it completely spoiled my mood." "Can you tell me about it?" Bailu asked softly. She wore a shower cap, partly to keep her hair dry, and partly because she was still recovering from illness and felt weak, needing to guard against catching a cold.

A colorful bath towel was wrapped around her, resembling a beautiful rainbow encasing her exquisitely curved figure, her two snow-white legs glistening with a dewy sheen. "Tell you?" Wang Zhuo glanced at her, shook his head, and chuckled.

"Better not. If even a thick-skinned person like me is this infuriated, you'd lose your appetite hearing about it." Smiling, Bailu said, "But I always thought you were an emotionally sensitive person, not at all like someone 'thick-skinned.'" Emotionally sensitive?

Wang Zhuo burst out laughing. That assessment was utterly unreliable.

Is someone who resorts to violence to solve problems truly emotionally sensitive? Seeing that he took it as a joke, Bailu smiled and shook her head, sitting down on the other end of the bed.

She softly asked, "Do you think I'm wrong?" Wang Zhuo shrugged, implicitly admitting his perspective. "If you weren't sensitive, would you have sent someone overnight from Lanzhou to Zhihe to bring me medicine?

After that failed, would you have flown personally from Jiangzhou to rescue me? Weren't you worried about my safety?" "That has nothing to do with being sensitive or not, right?" Wang Zhuo scratched his head, still deeply resistant to the word 'sensitive.' What good was being sensitive?

Which man wouldn't prefer to be called rugged? "It's not just that one incident.

Siyuan told me many other things about you, too. I synthesized the analysis," Bailu smiled.

"Take the air conditioning in this room, for instance. It was off when I stepped out, but now it's on full heat.

You certainly don't feel cold, but you did this so I wouldn't catch a chill when I came out, didn't you?" Wang Zhuo paused. That was indeed the case.

He touched his face, caught between amusement and exasperation. Could it be that he really was a "sensitive" man, just as Bailu claimed?

Wouldn't that feel rather effeminate?! No, I need to stand my ground!

He immediately made a decision, cleared his throat, and raised an eyebrow at Bailu: "Miss, you've got it wrong. I turned the AC on not because I feared you catching a cold, but because I don't want the room to feel chilly and spoil the mood when we get intimate later." Bailu's face instantly flushed scarlet, as if she had just downed a glass of strong liquor.

She lowered her elegant neck, like a bashful swan. Wang Zhuo smiled smugly and gave a commanding instruction, "I'm going to take a shower.

Could you draw the curtains?" When a woman is determined, she can be lethal. The sound of rushing water came from the bathroom, turning the room behind the drawn curtains dark and intimate.

Bailu interpreted Wang Zhuo's decision to shower first as another sign of sensitivity—he wasn't rushing into things but cleaning himself up first to ensure a clean first time for the girl. Was that not emotional sensitivity?

As for asking her to draw the curtains, she also categorized that as a subtle gesture. Whether Wang Zhuo was genuinely "sensitive" or she was simply deeply prejudiced and beyond saving was unknown.

When Wang Zhuo returned, refreshed, the powerful AC had warmed the room delightfully. Bailu made no attempt to hide her nervousness by pretending to watch TV, nor did she hide under the covers pretending to sleep, nor did she feign modesty by putting her clothes back on.

She sat quietly by the bed, her silky long hair now unbound, cascading like a gentle waterfall. Wasting time in a moment like this was tantamount to a crime.

Wang Zhuo walked over easily, sitting down close against her legs. Then, gently lifting her chin, he turned her face toward him, admiring her beautiful eyes, slightly closed from excitement and tension, before leaning in and kissing her.

The girl's lips carried a tempting sweetness, soft and hot. Her mouth parted slightly, allowing Wang Zhuo effortless access to her...

Her tongue had excellent friction and an alluring resilience. She responded to his passion with an eager moan, quickly wrapping her arms around him in return.

She greedily inhaled Wang Zhuo's deep, masculine scent, breathing in until she felt suffocated, gradually sinking back in his embrace until she was lying on her back. Whispering close to her ear, after a brief pause, Wang Zhuo asked softly, "Did Siyuan tell you everything I like?" "Mm," Bailu replied softly.

"Are you ready?" Wang Zhuo asked with a smile. He meant, was Bailu psychologically prepared to become one of the members of his harem.

But Bailu misunderstood his intent. She hummed again, then shyly answered in a voice barely louder than a mosquito's buzz, "I learned the flute, just for you." Wang Zhuo froze momentarily, then quietly grinned until his mouth stretched near his ears—a mixture of exasperation and sheer elation!

... Sometimes Siyuan was completely guileless and sincere; other times, she was a little liar wagging a devil's tail.

When Bailu pulled down Wang Zhuo's towel, she discovered Siyuan had deceived her