Chapter Seventy-Four: The Great Detective

Everyone in the restaurant was stunned, all turning toward the source of the voice. Liu Jingye stood there, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his expression grave.

“What are you doing?” Yuan Xiaoying was the first to speak. She had already closed the case, and walked over, saying, “Don’t say such things. This isn’t something to joke about.”

Liu Jingye looked at her with exasperation. “Sister, are you really a police officer? This is such an obvious murder case, and you’re claiming the victim died suddenly of illness. Aren’t you afraid that his wronged soul will come looking for you tonight?”

“Don’t scare me!” Yuan Xiaoying trembled. “They explained it quite clearly just now. The victim was old, gravely ill, and worked day and night. Sudden death is common in such cases.”

“If every death was dismissed as sudden, the police would have nothing to do.” Liu Jingye shot her an annoyed glance.

Everyone stared blankly at him. Liu Jingye hadn’t wanted to intervene, but he couldn’t stand seeing an innocent person die in vain. He stepped forward. “I’ll say it again. This is a premeditated murder. No one leaves the scene—the killer may be among you!”

A gasp rippled through the crowd. Even Yuan Xiaoying was stunned, her cheeks flushed, for she truly hadn’t seen any sign of murder.

She suspected Liu Jingye was just posturing. If he was wrong, she’d make sure to give him a good beating.

Liu Jingye had no time to care about her thoughts. Facing the restless crowd—some protesting their innocence, claiming not to know the victim, others worried about being late for work—the scene was chaotic.

“Silence!” Liu Jingye roared, and the room fell quiet. He pointed to the body. “Look closely—is this what sudden death looks like? Even if he had heart and lung disease and suffered an attack, he should be clutching his chest, not gripping his own throat with both hands!”

He really meant this for Yuan Xiaoying, but the girl was too oblivious, taking nothing to heart.

“If I’m not mistaken, this is the symptom of cyanide poisoning,” Liu Jingye said. “Cyanide is the king of deadly poisons. The poisoned suffer bulging eyes, difficulty breathing, and finally die of respiratory failure. Severe cases, like this one, display opisthotonus. This confirms he died of poisoning.”

“That doesn’t mean it was murder!” protested a female colleague of the victim. “We’re chemical researchers—there’s cyanide in our lab. Maybe our director accidentally touched or inhaled some, and the poison only took effect here.”

“Is that so?” Liu Jingye shot her a sharp look. The woman stepped back, nervous and afraid of being suspected.

“You’re right that it’s possible. But as far as I know, even a small dose causes symptoms of poisoning. To find the truth, let’s review the victim’s condition before death.”

“Miss Manager, please trace the victim’s movements before and after entering,” he instructed, glancing at the big television in the restaurant. “Play it publicly.”

The lobby manager went to prepare. Liu Jingye took the opportunity to scan everyone’s faces—each wore a different expression: panic, fear, composure, urgency. It was impossible to identify the murderer by their reactions.

The victim’s three colleagues were much the same, no clues in their demeanor.

“Hey, are you sure about this? If things get out of hand, it’ll be hard to contain,” Yuan Xiaoying whispered, “Impersonating a police officer is a serious crime.”

“That’s better than a real police officer doing nothing!” Liu Jingye retorted.

“You dare question me?” Yuan Xiaoying scoffed. “Let’s see how you clean up your mess.”

“What if I’m right and catch the killer here and now—what then?” Liu Jingye smiled.

“Then I’ll write ‘I submit’ for you,” Yuan Xiaoying snorted.

“That’s all?” Liu Jingye said with disdain.

Yuan Xiaoying eyed him warily. “What more do you want?”

“At the very least, you should submit to me once,” Liu Jingye said. “I mean submit comfortably!”

“Fine!” Yuan Xiaoying agreed immediately. She would never admit incompetence, and though Liu Jingye was confident, nothing was settled until the end—she still had a chance.

Liu Jingye said nothing more. Life and death was no gamble. He only wanted Yuan Xiaoying to take things seriously, as she should in every case, for she was a police officer.

Just then, the lobby manager brought up the surveillance footage, combining it and playing it on the big screen.

The crowd fell silent, all tense, eyes fixed on the TV. The timestamp showed about fifteen minutes earlier—outside the entrance, recording everyone who came in.

It was an uncomfortable feeling, being on camera. The mood was oppressive. Soon, the victim’s three colleagues appeared first. About five minutes later, the victim arrived.

The camera then switched inside. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but Liu Jingye noticed a detail: when the victim entered, he wore gloves to open the door handle, then removed them inside.

The victim came last. The three colleagues waited for him without ordering food, only opening the sanitized utensils. The waiter poured free tea for them.

When it was just the three, the two women sat together, the man opposite them near the aisle, chatting over tea. Perhaps the air conditioning was too cold; the man sneezed several times, wiped his nose with a napkin, and tossed it onto the table.

Then the victim arrived. The man promptly gave up his aisle seat and moved to the inner seat by the window.

The four exchanged a few words, then all went to the counter to order. On returning, the victim unwrapped the sanitized utensils, pulled a clean white handkerchief from his pocket, and reached to wipe the bowls and chopsticks.

At that moment, the victim’s movements stalled. His previously calm face showed sudden disgust. He turned to the man beside him and said something. The two then switched seats.

The victim took the inner seat by the window, his expression easing. The handkerchief was still at the original seat—he reached for it, but the man beat him to it, handing it over with a seemingly friendly gesture. The victim nodded, wiped the teacup first, asked the waiter to pour tea, then slowly drank, waiting for the dishes.

Within less than a minute, the cup slipped from the victim’s hand. His face changed dramatically, pain clear as day. He gagged dryly, clutching his throat with both hands as if something blocked it, mouth wide open, desperate for air, until he collapsed on the floor, convulsed, and finally ended up in that horrifying pose of opisthotonus, lifeless.

That was the entire process. Everyone watched in suspense, but saw no obvious clue.

“What happened? It’s clearly sudden death, isn’t it?” Yuan Xiaoying blurted out. “Everything looks natural!”

“You call this normal, big sister? Are those big watery eyes just for show?” Liu Jingye snorted. “There are clearly so many suspicious points!”

“Don’t call me big sister,” Yuan Xiaoying snapped. “I don’t see any suspicious points. If you know something, spit it out—stop being mysterious.”

Liu Jingye ignored her, lit a cigarette, and looked at the dead, unavenged victim. Nothing brings peace to the dead like clearing their injustice.

He stepped forward and declared, “I am certain this was murder. The killer is here. Before I name them, let me point out several suspicious details in the video.”

He took the remote, rewinding to the victim’s entrance. “Look—he wore gloves to open the door, then removed them. Inside, his hands showed no wounds or skin disease. Why wear gloves?”

“Why indeed?” Yuan Xiaoying wondered aloud.

“There’s only one possibility: the victim found the door handle filthy, due to severe OCD.” Liu Jingye spoke coldly, then asked the victim’s colleagues, “Is that right?”

A woman nodded. “Yes, he had severe OCD. Maybe it’s common among chemists—we use lots of protections, since some chemicals are toxic or corrosive. After work we wash repeatedly. It’s natural to become obsessive.”

“Thank you.” Liu Jingye pointed at the male colleague. “Now, let’s look at suspicious point number two—the seating. Why did you start outside, but move inside when the victim arrived?”

All eyes turned to the man, who was visibly nervous. “That’s because the director always liked to sit outside. He was a workaholic—always thinking of something, often leaving in the middle of a meal to return to the lab. So he always sat outside.”

“Why didn’t you start inside to begin with?” Liu Jingye pressed.

The man paled. “I just…just sat wherever, since he hadn’t arrived yet.”

“You’re lying!” Liu Jingye suddenly roared, nearly making the man collapse. “You sat outside to prepare for your murder plan!”

The crowd erupted. Everyone had watched the video, and though it was odd, no one saw any method of murder.

“You—you’re framing me, I didn’t…” The man’s face turned from white to red, shouting hoarsely.

Liu Jingye waved him off. “Be patient. You’ll soon see whether I’m framing you.”

He then paused the video, focusing on the moment the man sneezed and tossed his used tissue onto the table. Liu Jingye sneered, “Knowing your boss’s severe OCD, why did you leave your used tissue on the table?”