novelraw Chapter 228 What are you trying to prove?
Chapter 228 What are you trying to prove?
Inside the courtroom, the air was so thick it was suffocating.
Su Lanzhi's face had gone from deathly pale to ashen, and the last trace of color had faded from her lips. Her gaze involuntarily drifted towards Attorney Liu—the only lifeline she could cling to. But Attorney Liu only gave her a very quick, almost imperceptible nod, a gesture that meant: Stay calm, don't panic.
But that faint belief couldn't last even a second. The prosecutor's eyes were so cold, so cold it seemed to see right through her disguise.
"Because...because when the lawyer announced the will later, my mother-in-law...she couldn't possibly have made that kind of distribution. It's so unreasonable!" Su Lanzhi's voice grew increasingly rapid, as if she wanted to crush the cracks in logic with her rapid speech and cover up her guilty trembling with her volume. "That's when I realized that my mother-in-law had been acting very strangely during that time. It must be because she ate those things—"
"So," the prosecutor interrupted her, his voice as calm as still water, yet chilling, "you're not even sure if she added anything, or what she added—your so-called 'drug administration,' from beginning to end, is just your personal inference, is that right?"
The air seemed to have been sucked out.
The entire courtroom was so quiet that you could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall, one tick at a time, like someone slowly tolling a death knell.
Su Lanzhi's face was as white as paper. Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly, like a fish thrown ashore, futilely moving its gills, unable to breathe in a single breath of life-saving air.
"Objection!" Attorney Liu's voice boomed, this time clearly tinged with exasperation. Even his usually composed tie was slightly askew. "The prosecutor is forcing the witness to make inferences that are detrimental to their case! The witness is not an expert; she is only required to state what she has seen—witnesses have no obligation to provide scientific evidence for their observations!"
"Objection overruled." The judge's voice descended from above, calm and measured, yet like a cold, emotionless knife, precisely severing Attorney Liu's words. "Witness, please state the facts truthfully. You have just signed a witness guarantee; you shall bear corresponding legal responsibility for every statement you make."
Su Lanzhi's eyes reddened.
This time, it wasn't acting.
I'm genuinely scared.
She didn't want to go to jail again. She'd been to that kind of place once, and it had haunted her for three years. She lowered her head, her voice barely a whisper, almost swallowed by the empty echo of the courtroom: "I don't remember."
The online comments exploded, with scalding bullet comments flooding the screen like lava.
"What 'can't remember'? That's a complete fabrication!"
"She claims to know nothing when questioned, so what makes you think she's telling the truth? How can you use such testimony as evidence?"
"It's only been a little over three years, so it's possible that you only remember the important plot points and can't recall the details. That's understandable."
"She doesn't seem to be lying; maybe she's just getting old and her memory isn't what it used to be?"
"Is it possible she's afraid of Gu Yanshen's revenge? Don't forget this is a live broadcast, the camera is pointed at her face!"
"It's rumored that Su Lan's husband has also been expelled from the Gu Group—is there more to this testimony than meets the eye?"
Can things that are not clearly remembered be used as testimony?
Public opinion was torn in two, like a piece of cloth being pulled apart by two hands, making a piercing tearing sound in the crack between truth and lies. No one could convince the other, but the scales had already tilted slightly—because the three words "I can't remember" were too much like a flag that was about to fall.
The prosecutor did not back down. He took a half-step forward, a half-step that felt like a mountain pressing down on him: "You can't remember what she added, but you remember she added it?"
"I...I can't remember."
"You can't remember how many dishes were served that day, but you do remember the action of 'putting something down'?"
"I can't remember."
"You can't remember if you told anyone, but now you remember you're going to say it in court?"
"I...can't remember."
Each "I can't remember" was like a brick. Su Lanzhi piled the bricks one by one in front of her, building a wall. She shrank behind that wall, wrapping herself up tightly, refusing to reveal even a single flaw.
The prosecutor stared at her for a full five seconds.
For those five seconds, the courtroom was so quiet you could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall—no, quieter still, quiet enough for someone to hear their own heartbeat.
Then, the prosecutor gently put down the folder in his hand and sat back down.
The soft "Sit down" sounded exceptionally clear in the deathly silence—like a sigh, or a slap in the face.
As Su Lanzhi left the courtroom, she stumbled. She dared not look at the audience, dared not look at Lian Bichen, dared not even look anyone in the eye. She lowered her head and walked quickly out of the courtroom, the sound of her high heels clicking on the floor chaotic and hurried, as if she were fleeing a chase.
Her palms were sweaty, and her fingernails had dug four crescent-shaped marks into her palms. The pain brought her back to her senses a little.
Su Lanzhi's figure disappeared through the doorway.
After a brief silence, just as the air in the courtroom began to lift slightly, the prosecutor suddenly took a slip of paper from his assistant. He glanced at it, a glint of light flashing in his eyes, then looked up, his voice clear and steady:
"Your Honor, we request to call our next witness—Lian Bichen's daughter-in-law, Jin Qiqi."
A low commotion arose in the gallery.
Gu Yanxu was completely tense, like a string stretched to its limit.
Late last night, he sent Jin Qiqi a long text message. He typed and deleted, typed and deleted, dozens of times, until his fingers were trembling when he finally sent it. In the message, he begged her—almost kneeling—begging her not to appear in court, not to be the one who pushed her mother into the abyss.
He assumed that since Jin Qiqi hadn't appeared after the witness testimony, it meant she had listened to him.
He didn't expect that she would actually come.
The moment Jin Qiqi appeared at the door, Gu Yanxu's face turned deathly pale. His lips moved as if he wanted to call her name, but no sound came out.
The moment Lian Bichen saw Jin Qiqi, her pupils contracted sharply.
That panic lasted less than half a second before she suppressed it. Her eyelashes trembled, her eyes darted around rapidly, and her brain began to work at breakneck speed—searching for the next step, for every possible escape route, for every piece that could turn the tide.
"Ms. Jin," the judge's voice rang out from above, "what do you have to prove in court?"