Chapter Seventy-Five: There Is Only One Truth

The man’s face flushed, unable to utter a single word in response to Liu Jingye’s questioning.

Liu Jingye smiled and said, “Let me say it for you: you were taking advantage of his obsession with cleanliness. You knew he would sit outside, but after seeing the napkin you left behind, his compulsiveness would kick in. Naturally, he’d ask to switch seats with you… And that’s where your murder plot hinged!”

As he finished, Liu Jingye played the video again, showing the deceased pulling out a handkerchief to wipe his utensils. Then, noticing the used tissue, he stood up in disgust and requested a seat change. He placed his handkerchief on the table and, after switching seats, remembered it—only for you to hand it over before he could retrieve it himself.

The footage paused. Liu Jingye smiled. “If I’m not mistaken, the deadly cyanide was on your hand. You took the opportunity to smear it on his handkerchief. He then wiped his teacup with it, drank from the cup, and that’s how he was poisoned!”

A gasp rippled through the crowd. Many felt that Liu Jingye’s explanation was perfectly reasonable—hidden within this seemingly innocuous scene was a subtle, almost undetectable threat.

“Nonsense! You’re slandering me. What evidence do you have that I killed him?” The man was on the verge of collapse, roaring, “All I did was hand him his handkerchief. Does a little act of currying favor with my boss prove I’m a murderer?”

“Don’t be impatient. Watch a little further and you’ll understand,” Liu Jingye waved his hand and played more of the video.

The following footage was unseen by anyone else; the victim had already collapsed, and the restaurant was thrown into chaos as staff and diners gathered around. Yet, thanks to Liu Jingye’s analysis and the suspicion now fixed on the man, everyone paid special attention to him.

Blending into the crowd, the man looked tense, but there was something odd: his right hand remained in his pocket the entire time—even now.

“Now do you see what the evidence is?” Liu Jingye grinned. “No need to argue. When the forensic team arrives, they’ll examine your hands, the victim’s handkerchief and teacup, and everything will become clear. If you confess now, at least you’ll show a shred of humanity—maybe bring a little solace to the victim’s restless soul.”

The man fell silent in an instant, head bowed, body trembling violently. The people around him drew back in terror, the two female colleagues especially—knowing it was deadly poison and that they’d dined at the same table, they realized how narrowly they had escaped death.

In the end, the man broke under the pressure and snapped. But rather than confess, he lunged straight at Liu Jingye, yanking his right hand from his pocket and reaching to grab Liu Jingye’s face with his open palm.

Everyone was horrified—knowing that hand was smeared with a lethal poison, a single touch could be fatal.

But Liu Jingye remained unruffled, a relaxed smile on his face. As the man approached, Liu Jingye suddenly ducked, dodged the deadly hand, and delivered a heavy punch to the man’s stomach.

With a desperate cry, the man doubled over, vomiting the contents of his stomach.

Liu Jingye quickly stepped aside, watching as the man writhed on the ground like a shrimp, convulsing with pain.

At that moment, someone shouted, “He’s trying to kill himself!”

Liu Jingye turned just in time to see the man attempting to force his poisoned right hand into his own mouth. Before he could succeed, Yuan Xiaoying, finally snapping out of her shock, darted forward, twisted his wrist behind his back, and—taking a pair of handcuffs from her bag—secured both hands behind him, putting an end to any further suicidal attempts.

“You only show up to steal the spotlight once the dust has settled,” Liu Jingye teased, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Hmph!” Yuan Xiaoying snorted, feeling both embarrassed and vexed. She was supposed to be the police officer here, yet she had mistaken a murder for a sudden death, while Liu Jingye—an impostor—had pierced through all the clues and caught the killer on the spot.

“Good thing we’re on the same side,” Yuan Xiaoying consoled herself with that thought.

Soon, the real police arrived. There was little left to investigate; they simply took the murderer away. Yuan Xiaoying followed, seeing another opportunity for recognition and reward—something she would never pass up.

“Hey, you’re just leaving? Didn’t we agree that if I solved the case, you’d make me feel good?” Liu Jingye called after her at the door, stopping her in her tracks.

Blushing, Yuan Xiaoying retorted, “Who said I’d make you feel good? I said I’d write the word ‘convinced’ for you. Want it now? Should I write it in regular script or Song style?”

“Feisty little thing!” Liu Jingye grumbled. “Just don’t let me catch you off guard in bed!”

Yuan Xiaoying almost tripped over the threshold as she exited. What a shameless thing to say…

After the police left with the suspect, Liu Jingye intended to leave as well, but the restaurant’s floor manager stopped him. No matter what, she insisted on thanking him on behalf of the restaurant, at the very least treating him to a meal.

If he hadn’t apprehended the murderer in time, news of a poisoning in the restaurant would surely have meant its ruin.

Unable to refuse such sincere hospitality, Liu Jingye decided to stay. Once he did, the others who had been preparing to leave—spooked by the poison—chose to remain as well.

Though the police had wrapped things up quickly, tests had confirmed that only the victim, the murderer, the handkerchief, and the teacup had traces of poison; the rest of the place was safe.

Relieved, the guests stayed, and after a thorough cleaning, the restaurant resumed business as usual, the incident leaving little impact.

A lavish meal was prepared for Liu Jingye. The elegant floor manager herself accompanied him, joined by two others who insisted on sitting at the same table—the deceased’s two female colleagues.

“What kind of grudge drove him to murder?” Liu Jingye asked curiously.

The two women exchanged looks and shook their heads. “We’ve worked together for a year and never noticed any animosity between them. They got along well. The director was a workaholic, but he always supported junior staff. He taught us so much this past year.”

“Then who exactly was the murderer?” Liu Jingye pressed.

“He was quite a talent in our field, studied abroad in Japan, with deep expertise in biochemical engineering,” one woman replied.

Studied in Japan? Liu Jingye’s attention sharpened. As a soldier, there were certain countries he regarded with particular sensitivity.

Suddenly he recalled that a few days ago, Huang Xing’s father, Huang Guangzong, had returned from Japan, bringing with him a Japanese investment group intending to build a factory here—also apparently related to bioengineering.

Casually, Liu Jingye asked, “Was the director too demanding, putting too much pressure on him? Did he snap under the stress?”

“No,” one woman replied. “The project we’re working on is nearly complete. Once it hits the market, it will make waves worldwide and put us at the forefront of the industry. The director holds the core technology, but he’s generous—he wants to patent it under all our names, so everyone benefits. We’re grateful to him, not resentful.”

“Your director must have been an industry heavyweight,” Liu Jingye observed.

“Absolutely,” the woman said proudly. “Recently, the company announced the director’s research project, which attracted global attention. Lots of foreign companies tried to poach him with high salaries, but he turned them all down.”

“So what exactly were you all researching?” Liu Jingye couldn’t help asking.

One woman was about to answer when the other nudged her gently. She immediately caught on, closed her mouth, and apologized, “Sorry, officer, it’s a commercial secret. We can’t say.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Liu Jingye replied with a smile. “I was just trying to understand the killer’s motive, but I suspect he’s already confessed by now. Come, eat up—eat well and gather your strength to continue the work your director left unfinished.”

At the mention of their director, the two women fell silent, but their eyes burned with renewed determination. They ate quickly and, spirits high, took their leave.

“Here, officer, try this dish—it’s our signature,” the floor manager said warmly, serving Liu Jingye. He still found it odd to be called “officer.”

Liu Jingye smiled awkwardly, thanked her, and lowered his head to eat.

The manager hovered nearby, offering food and pouring wine, her eyes shining with a peculiar light. Softly, she said, “You were incredible just now—like a detective from TV, sharp and insightful. Just a few clues, and you saw through the case and brought the culprit to justice. And you’re so young!”

Liu Jingye felt something was off—the manager seemed a bit too enthusiastic. He quickly replied, “It was nothing; the murderer’s methods were just too clumsy.”

“That’s not true—it’s your skill,” she said, her voice almost coquettish. “You must have solved a lot of cases, haven’t you? Tell me—have you ever worked on a locked-room mystery? Or a perfect alibi case? I’m a huge detective fan! By the way, do you like Conan?”

“Of course. Isn’t he the famous detective who looks like a child but has extraordinary intelligence—solved countless cases by the age of seventeen?” Liu Jingye replied. “Later, he set off with the Digimon to search for the seven Dragon Balls, began the Grand Line with the help of the Bala Fairy, awakened the Sharingan, defeated Doraemon, and finally retired to become the village chief of Sheep Village!”

The manager burst out laughing, unable to contain herself, playfully patting him on the arm. “You must have had a colorful childhood.”

Liu Jingye grinned sheepishly. Suddenly, the manager’s eyes lit up. “Did you grow up with a childhood sweetheart?”

He turned to look at her—her cheeks were flushed, the meaning in her eyes unmistakable.

So, I do have a certain charm, he thought, even if I’m not really an officer or detective. He was happy to reciprocate her enthusiasm.

“Miss Manager, could I ask you for a favor?” he said.

Asking for help was always a good way to allow for more interaction. The manager replied at once, “What can I do for you?”

Liu Jingye produced a stack of business cards. “I run a country inn on the outskirts of town. Your place is always so busy—could you help me promote it as well…?”