Chapter 3

Just as we were running out of options, someone came to mind.

Qin Ming.

“Sir, there's still hope. Professor Qin retained thirty milliliters of blood from her heart after the autopsy. Could that sample give us a breakthrough?”

My mentor's frown eased a little, as though he had glimpsed a ray of hope.

Reviewing everything, we could be sure of one thing: Li Zihan had not died of an external injury.

That left only one conclusion. She must have been poisoned—with something extremely difficult to detect.

“Ask Professor Qin whether he'll assist us.”

I patted my chest.

“He will. Leave it to me.”

Given his love of Detective Conan, surely he would not turn down the chance to solve a case himself.

I decided to ask him in person. To improve my odds, I reluctantly took along a complete set of Dragon Ball I had treasured for years.

That afternoon, in his office at the forensic medicine college, Qin Ming held the set in his arms, eyes shining. Every so often, he stroked it as though it were a priceless treasure.

“Oh, Tiankai, you shouldn't have! I've wanted to read these again ever since I borrowed them from you.”

I seized the opportunity to explain why I was there.

He slapped his thigh. His eyes shone even brighter.

“I, Qin Ming, am a model citizen! Civilized conduct, progressive values, the Eight Honors and Eight Shames—I know them all by heart. Helping the police solve a case is my bounden duty.”

...

I regretted it already.

Judging by his enthusiasm, he would have agreed even if I hadn't brought a gift.

Looking at the Dragon Ball set in his arms, I felt I had lost one of life's great treasures.

At the Binhai Criminal Investigation Unit, Qin Ming joined our first case conference.

“First, thank you, Professor Qin, for making time to attend. We hope you can offer some guidance from a pathology perspective.”

“Comrade Yan, spare me the pleasantries. Let's begin.”

My mentor smiled and pointed at me.

“Tiankai, you present. I'll fill in anything you miss.”

I knew he wanted to test my ability to analyze a case independently.

Time to prove myself.

I took a marker and began writing on the whiteboard.

“I'll start with the timeline.”

“At five p.m. on April 1, 2007, Li Zihan, Cheng Sisi, and Zhang Jun arrived at the hotel.”

“At six, Li Zihan took a softgel vitamin A and D capsule supplied by Zhang Jun.”

“At six-thirty, Zhang Jun said his company had called and needed him back urgently.”

“Based on the journey time, he should have reached the station shortly after seven. His phone then ran out of power, and he became unreachable.”

“At eight, Li Zihan developed difficulty breathing and an irregular heartbeat. She was rushed to hospital, where resuscitation failed. She was pronounced dead at eight twenty-five.”

“The times, locations, and people involved are all clear. The treating doctor identified the cause of death as a heart attack. Professor Qin's autopsy revealed no other possible cause.”

“But several points are highly suspicious.”

“First, Zhang Jun and Li Zihan registered their marriage after knowing each other for only three months.”

“Second, despite being legally married, they had not had sex. That suggests he did not marry her for herself.”

“Third, immediately after the marriage, he took out a very large personal accident insurance policy on her, naming himself as beneficiary.”

“Fourth, she died suddenly just half a month after he bought the policy.”

“Fifth, and most suspiciously, Zhang Jun has had three wives, including Li Zihan. All three died of supposed heart attacks, and he insured each of them beforehand.”

When I finished, I noticed Qin Ming staring down at the floor, his expression grave.

“Professor Qin? Is something wrong?”

“Impossible,” he muttered.

“I've never heard of a poison that can kill to a precise schedule. She was completely normal between six and eight, then suddenly became ill and died soon afterward. That makes no sense. Poisoning is a progressive process.”

We had reached an impasse.

After a silence, my mentor made a suggestion.

“Tiankai, didn't you mention an academy friend who works in Mingzhou's criminal investigation unit?”

“Yes. Zeng Ziming. We've been close since college.”

“Good. There's only one avenue left: a joint investigation. Start in Mingzhou, where Zhang Jun lives. Look into his activities and contacts over the past six months. See whether you can find anything. I'll contact your friend's superiors and try to have him assigned to assist you.”

That evening, I called Zeng Ziming.

It took him ages to answer.

“Well, well. Tiankai, you mutt. What gives you time to call me?”

Damn it. That was Zeng Ziming all right. Exactly the same as in college.

I gave as good as I got.

“Listen, you little punk. Don't say I never do anything for you. Here's your chance for glory. Help me investigate a suspect in Mingzhou.”

“Not interested.”

“Don't you want to—”

“No.”

“Once my mentor sorts it out with your boss and the order comes down, you won't have a choice.”

“Then I'll quit.”

...

I had nothing.

Nothing worked on this man.

I swallowed my pride and begged.

“Ziming, my dear friend. Do me a favor. I can't do this without you.”

His reply was immediate.

“Have you no shame? How many times have I helped you? What am I, your girlfriend? Every time you got into trouble in college, didn't we all take the fall with you? We've graduated, and you're still trying to drag me down.”

That stung a little. Perhaps our great friendship existed only in my head.

I was about to hang up when a wicked laugh came down the line.

“Ha! I'm messing with you, you mutt. The boss already assigned me the case. We're partners now.”

“You little bastard. Just wait till I get to Mingzhou... I'm buying you a proper feast.”

As soon as I arrived in Mingzhou, we started work.

On the first day, we visited Zhang Jun's former company.

He knew me, so Zeng Ziming went in alone first to avoid alerting him.

Before long, he called me upstairs. Zhang Jun had resigned.

We met his former immediate supervisor, Wu Kun.

The meeting took place in a conference room. Zeng Ziming and I were both in plain clothes.

Wu Kun looked nervous when we identified ourselves.

Zeng Ziming reassured him.

“We're investigating Zhang Jun personally. It has nothing to do with the company. Just tell us what you know.”

Wu Kun nodded.

We sat down. I asked the questions while Zeng Ziming took notes.

“What exactly was Zhang Jun's job? How did he get on with his colleagues?”

“He was mainly responsible for maintaining our network. He was conscientious and very good with computers. Whenever anyone had a computer or network problem, he was always happy to help.”

“Did anything unusual happen to him, or at the company, in the days around his resignation?”

Wu Kun thought for a moment.

“There was a minor incident at the company. On April Fools' Day. The day before, the boss told me to inform the sales department that they'd have to work overtime because a client was visiting.”

“When I told them, they thought it was an April Fools' joke. It took quite a bit of explaining before they believed me.”

“We'd just had the network rewired, and I was worried it might be unstable. I asked Zhang Jun whether he could help, but he said he was away on holiday.”

“And of course, the very thing I'd been worried about happened. The network went down. In the end, the boss had to call him personally and tell him to come back immediately.”

It fit.

It matched Zhang Jun's statement in Binhai exactly.

I looked at Zeng Ziming. He shook his head, indicating that he had no further questions.

We thanked Wu Kun and returned to the Mingzhou unit to discuss our next move.

Zeng Ziming drove.

Outside the window, bright neon lights streamed past.

I was exhausted.

I closed my eyes and leaned back, trying to empty my mind.

It would not stop working.

Everything made too much sense.

So much sense that it felt wrong.

Why had the company's network failed at exactly the right moment to give Zhang Jun a reason to leave Binhai—and a perfect alibi?

Why had his phone conveniently run out of power after he reached the station?

How had he killed someone from a distance?

Telepathy?

My head hurt. I dragged my hands through my hair.

Zeng Ziming noticed and patted my shoulder.

“I know you're anxious, but don't be anxious just yet. The more you rush, the less clearly you'll think. Let me take you somewhere to unwind.”

Ten minutes later, we stopped in an open-air car park.

At his urging, I got out.

“Look!” He pointed ahead.

I followed his finger.

My eyes widened.

Happy Feet Massage.

“Have you forgotten what we do for a living?”

I turned back toward the car.

He caught my arm.

“What are you thinking? It's a legitimate place.”

I gave him a skeptical look.

“Legitimate? Then I'm not going.”

...

“Oh, that feels good.”

After a foot soak, the technician's skilled hands worked a blissful sensation through my feet. My whole body relaxed.

I glanced at Zeng Ziming.

He looked completely at ease. A regular, by the look of him.

The woman massaging his feet was strikingly pretty, with graceful brows and bright, liquid eyes.

She gazed at him warmly.

“You haven't been here in ages.”

He glanced at her.

“Things are different now. If I came too often, people might talk.”

“Different how? People would gossip because you got a foot massage? This is a respectable business. You know that.”

She put particular emphasis on “respectable” and slipped him a flirtatious glance.

He pretended not to notice and turned to the woman working on me.

“Go easy on him. My friend's delicate. He can't take much pressure. Hurt him like that and he won't bring me along next time.”

I...

For fuck's sake.

I had absolutely nothing to say.