"Motive, you say... hmph..." Feng Bujue began his nonsense, "I can see... the relationship between you two brothers isn't great, saying it's 'distant' shouldn't be an overstatement, right?" He shrugged. "Your older brother is steady, with a successful career. And you're already in your thirties, basically still a failure, without a stable source of income."

Jue-ge's ability to concoct things was truly unmatched, he continued, "Personality determines destiny, Jack. I've seen a lot of young people like you, saying 'chasing dreams' but actually just using the word 'dream' as an excuse for indulgence, a way to deceive yourself." He picked up the booklet in his hand, flipping through it as he read, "At nineteen, you dropped out of college against your family's wishes and joined a third-rate... sorry... a no-rate rock band as the lead singer. In the next five or six years, you and your band traveled and performed everywhere, mostly earning no income at all, and the response to your performances was mixed, so basically... you guys were just using your family's money to pay for your so-called 'dreams.'"

"Hmph... what do you know? How could someone like you understand the meaning in the music we make? You're just a small-town person brainwashed by warmongers, religious fanatics, and bureaucrats," Jack said disdainfully. "Besides, you're clearly younger than me! Why are you talking down to me..."

"You're like a cockroach," Feng Bujue interrupted, reciting in a cold tone, "A half-baked hippie, a pioneer of alternative culture. I understand people like you very well... selfish, self-centered, pleasure-seeking, and lazy. You rebel against the values ​​instilled in you by the previous generation, but you don't have any real opinions of your own; you hate the greed of the tycoons, lament the narrowness of traditional morality, and oppose the inhumanity of war. So you use rock music to express your dissatisfaction, demonstrating a cynical mood. You shout 'love and peace,' thinking you're 'pure, excited, and great,' but the world can't be changed by those things.

"Eventually, when all of this is over, one day, your parents will grow old. Because you use all sorts of high-sounding reasons to shirk the social responsibilities that an adult should bear, your youth is ultimately wasted in meaningless escape. Looking back, behind you stands a stupid young man, with an embarrassing hairstyle, smoking marijuana, and shouting empty slogans.

"Your set of idealistic things sounds very beautiful, but you don't have the ability to make them happen."

Jack was stunned, not just Jack, but Schofield was also stunned, both completely unsure how to respond.

"I used to be a cynical person too, Jack," Feng Bujue leaned back in his chair and said leisurely, "If you think that a guy like you who makes garbage music, smokes marijuana, picks up girls, and travels around at his own expense is changing the world, then I and Martin Luther King can form a rap group and release an album." He put his hands behind his head. "You think you can change the world by casually making a few remarks in your works that allude to society and anti-government? I've tried it before, it didn't work."

"Uh..." Jack was completely overwhelmed. His family and friends wouldn't tell him these views, and even if they did, they couldn't be so sharp.

"Let's get back to the topic..." Feng Bujue turned a page of the booklet and continued, "Five or six years later, your band signed with a similarly no-name record company and released an album. But sales were obviously not good, because that company went bankrupt soon after." He paused. "Not long after that, your band broke up. Later, you went to North America and found a job writing music for television commercials. Heh..." His sarcasm was palpable. "How does it feel to work for those fat-headed tycoons?"

Jack couldn't refute, so he could only change the subject: "What does this have to do with my brother's death?"

"Don't worry, we'll get to it soon, buddy," Feng Bujue smiled. "Ideals are very beautiful, but to talk about ideals, you must first withstand the beatings of reality." He spread his hands. "You're lucky, Jack, because you were born into a wealthy family. For you... a privileged life, the right to receive an education, and a source of income after dropping out of school are all things you can get with a mere reach of the hand." He paused. "And you're also unlucky, also because you were born into this wealthy family, the fist of 'reality' came too late to your face...

"Your father gave you a life that many people can only dream of, but you squandered it.

"A few years ago, when your father finally couldn't bear it anymore and stopped all financial aid to you. Nearing thirty, for the first time in your life, you faced the monster of 'reality' alone. You found that 'living' is not such a simple thing.

"In the adult world, nothing is simple, and nothing is taken for granted. If you want to eat, you have to work; if you want to live a privileged life, you have to work doubly hard; if you want to be superior, you have to have extraordinary skills.

"To change the world... hmph... I won't discuss this topic with you."

Feng Bujue stood up from his chair and walked slowly. "Now, you must know better than anyone what it's like to have no money. Living in cheap hotels without hot water, sleeping on dirty beds, eating only two meals a day, each meal only bread and tap water, sending out the songs you've written and being worried about being rejected, because that means going hungry..." He walked to Jack, looking down at him with eyes that seemed to pierce through everything, "You young masters like you must have become much tougher after such ups and downs. And your fear of poverty will be even greater than those who have never been rich."

Jue-ge sneered and continued, "In recent years, your father's health has been deteriorating, which is undoubtedly a very bad sign... If he dies, what will he leave to his rebellious second son? In the hearts of this family, aren't you just an irresponsible, freeloading playboy who only knows how to mess around and ask for money? No matter how much family property is left to you, it will be squandered..."

Jack's eyes showed that he wanted to defend himself, but Feng Bujue immediately increased his tone and speed, not giving him a chance to interrupt, "Not to mention how much your stepmother who entered the house seven years ago and your younger sister can get... If it's according to the general inheritance order, Dennis is undoubtedly a huge obstacle for you to get the inheritance." Although it was slander, his words were indeed reasonable, "The relationship between you brothers isn't great to begin with, for this family property that is enough to change the second half of your life... isn't it natural for you to have murderous intentions towards him..."

Schofield interjected from the side, "Well... that makes sense. Today's quarrel became the fuse. You made up your mind in the hallway, planned it after returning to your room, and then carried out the murder." The detective basically understood Jue-ge's nonsense routine, and it was only natural to help out with a few words.

"You guys..." Jack really didn't expect that, through the information he and his family members had revealed to Officer Mark, this detective could vividly describe his life's journey...

In fact, Feng Bujue himself didn't expect it either... He just combined the descriptions of Jack from different people, roughly sorted out the experiences of this second young master over the years, and then used his novelist's talent to make up and speculate on the other party's inner changes at different stages of his life, and strung them together irresponsibly. He didn't expect to get it all right... including the fact that Jack really had murderous intentions towards Dennis.

Jack gnashed his teeth, and laughed in anger, "Okay, since you two have said it to this point..." He stood up, spread his hands, "Then I'll make it clear..." He sneered, "Anyway, I didn't kill anyone, whether there's a motive or not... Before Carol found the body, I was always in my room packing my luggage, I didn't go out even half a step. Not killed is not killed, I will not confess, if you really have evidence, then arrest me." As he said, he put on a rogue look and stretched out his hands to Schofield.