SFTD -Chapter 367 White Spot Reappearance (Part 8)

Zhu Cuiwen didn’t look up, but her eyes briefly flicked toward Da Mao. Although her tone was very polite, Da Mao could still sense the underlying meaning in her words. After a short pause, she continued.

“Dong Bin rarely came home. He would only come back on weekends when the child returned home, but even then he didn’t stay. We’ve been separated for two or three years.”

“What was the reason?”

Zhu Cuiwen took a deep breath, her hands under the table tightly gripping each other.

“Because I like playing mahjong, and he was very aloof. He thought of himself as an intellectual and wanted a divorce. I didn’t agree. Was he going to be with me when he wanted an East South household registration, and then dump me now that he’s capable?”

Da Mao flipped through the documents in his hand.

“You remarried before being with Dong Bin?”

Zhu Cuiwen responded softly, “Mm.”

“The child is from your previous husband?”

Zhu Cuiwen looked slightly embarrassed and lowered her head again.

“Yes. I was with him when my son was eight years old.”

Da Mao stood up and walked to the side of the table, both hands braced on it. He stared at the plain-looking Zhu Cuiwen, sizing her up repeatedly from head to toe.

“How old is your son now? What grade is he in?”

“He’s fourteen now, in second year of junior high.”

“Boarding school?”

“Yes.”

“Expensive?”

Zhu Cuiwen looked confused but didn’t dare not answer.

“About eight thousand yuan per semester, I think?”

“So it’s not you paying for it. Then what’s your monthly income?”

“That’s all arranged by Dong Bin. I only make a little over five thousand a month.”

“Was the house you live in bought with your money?”

Zhu Cuiwen shook her head slightly, still not understanding why he was asking all this. In her view, it had nothing to do with Dong Bin’s death.

“Dong Bin bought it. My little bit of income wasn’t enough to buy a house!”

Da Mao tapped his fingers rhythmically on the table, narrowing his eyes as he studied her.

“If I may be blunt—you’re five years older than Dong Bin, a second marriage with a child, no money, no house, and not particularly attractive. From everything you’ve just said, I don’t see how you treated him well at all. All I hear is complaints.

Where exactly does your sense of superiority come from?

Just because of an East South city household registration?

With Dong Bin’s looks, he could easily find a well-off young woman.

Even though you were separated, he still came back every week to see your son. And yet you’re still complaining that now that he’s capable, he wants to dump you?

Come on, I’m not here to listen to jokes!”

A hint of embarrassment appeared on Zhu Cuiwen’s face as she looked up at him.

Da Mao knocked on the table again.

“Sit straight. Hands on the table. Now think carefully and answer my question properly.”

Zhu Cuiwen pressed her lips together, rubbing her thumb and index finger repeatedly. Finally, she sighed.

“Dong Bin was a good person. He was very good to us. But I have a gambling habit. Whenever I had a bit of money, I’d go play a few rounds. I wanted to quit, but I just couldn’t resist. Even though he was angry, he still came back every week to see my son, afraid I wouldn’t treat him well.”

As she spoke, Zhu Cuiwen lowered her head and began to cry.

“Is Dong Bin dead? What are we supposed to do now? How are we going to live?”

Da Mao frowned. At this point, the woman wasn’t thinking about why her husband had died—only about how she would live in the future.

After a moment, he continued.

“Crying won’t solve anything. Now tell me, who were Dong Bin’s friends, or his immediate relatives, or anyone he frequently contacted? Think carefully. Don’t rush to say you don’t know. The more you can recall, the faster we can solve the case and catch the murderer.”

Zhu Cuiwen hesitated slightly, stealing a glance at Da Mao and shrinking back in her chair.

“Is there any financial compensation for this?”

Da Mao stared at her for a long moment without speaking. Zhu Cuiwen began to feel uneasy under his gaze and waved her hand.

“Don’t look at me like that. We’re a single-parent family. If we don’t have income, how are we supposed to survive?”

“Don’t you have a job?”

Zhu Cuiwen glanced at him with obvious disdain.

“With the cost of living in East South City, wages are lower than in the northwest, but expenses are higher than Beijing, Shanghai, and Guangzhou combined. I have to plan for my future. Otherwise, now that he’s dead, everything’s over, but we still have to live.”

Da Mao’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“So you want compensation?”

Zhu Cuiwen nodded firmly, as if unafraid.

“That makes things easier,” Da Mao said coldly. “Answer my previous question properly. Only by cooperating and helping us solve the case can the process of transferring it to the procuratorate move faster. I don’t decide compensation—that’s up to the court. Do you understand? But cooperation is the prerequisite. Without that, everything else is nonsense.”

Zhu Cuiwen quickly nodded. After thinking for a moment, she took out her phone, scrolled through her contacts, and then found a photo in her album.

From Drifter’s angle, he couldn’t see clearly, but leaning closer to the monitor, he could make out what looked like a list of names and phone numbers in the image.

Da Mao looked at it, then glanced suspiciously at Zhu Cuiwen.

“What are these people? Don’t tell me you don’t even know Dong Bin’s relatives.”

Zhu Cuiwen shook her head.

“Dong Bin was from Xinjiang. He went back once a year. They said he only had one father left, who lived with his elder brother’s family. I don’t know much else. It’s too far away—I never went back with him, and he never asked me to go with him.”

Drifter lowered his head and looked at the photos Xu Biao had sent earlier. On the ID card image, he finally noticed a detail he had overlooked before: the number 65010719820405xxxx.

Da Mao continued.

“So you don’t know much about his family? Not even his friends?”

Zhu Cuiwen slowly shook her head. It seemed she truly had no recollection, but then her hand lifted again. Her eyes narrowed slightly as if recalling something.

“Dong Bin studied in East South. He didn’t keep in touch with classmates, didn’t socialize with any bosses, and had no real friends. But it seemed like he had a good relationship with one of his teachers. They would occasionally call each other. Every time they talked, he would stand on the balcony and speak for a long time. He looked very happy then, smiling and talking.”

“What teacher? A university teacher? Which university did he attend?”

Da Mao’s rapid questioning left Zhu Cuiwen a bit confused. She bit her lip and tried to recall.

“That was a long time ago… I think it was mentioned in university. He graduated from East South University of Technology. I can’t remember his major, and I don’t know the teacher. You can check his contacts yourself, can’t you?”

Da Mao looked at the woman with frustration. The clues he had obtained from her were minimal, but he still wrote down a few key points in his notebook.

“Alright. Don’t turn off your phone. Stay reachable at all times.”