To everyone’s shock, the killer turned out to be Zhao Chengye, president of Starlight Media—the very agency the victim Qi Sheng belonged to.
Zhao Chengye was forty years old. He was not only a renowned business tycoon in the industry, but also a distinguished alumnus of No. 1 High School.
Qi Sheng was Starlight Media’s top earner, the undisputed leading artist of the company.
Everyone said Zhao Chengye had made a fortune off Qi Sheng.
Why would a boss kill his own cash cow?
Silence fell over everyone in the monitoring room.
……
The campus was placed under full lockdown; no one was allowed to leave, regardless of their status.
Among those stranded were powerful figures from politics and business, who soon grew restless and began complaining loudly.
Some even threatened to file complaints against the police for restricting their personal freedom without cause.
Zhao Chengye blended into the crowd, quietly fanning the flames and inciting discontent.
Tempers flared higher and higher.
Several influential business leaders went so far as to call the police chief directly.
“Are the police just wasting their time? We’re well-known figures in the business world—how dare you detain us here!”
“Exactly! If our work suffers because of this, can you take responsibility for the consequences?”
One real estate developer shouted angrily, “If you don’t let us out right now, I’ll go to the media and expose how you’re abusing your power! It’s just a celebrity falling to his death—so what if it was stress-related? Nothing strange about that!”
“Right! The police have no right to lock us up—we have to make sure everyone knows how unfairly they’re treating us!”
School administrators rushed over to calm the crowd, but no one paid them any heed.
Zhao Chengye lowered his voice to stir up more resentment.
“The victim was my artist—if anyone should be worried, it’s me. Instead of hunting down the real killer, the police are treating us like suspects. Don’t they worry how this will ruin our reputations once word gets out?”
More and more people began to side with him.
Complaints, insults, and shouts of protest filled the air.
Just as the business leaders were on the verge of filing formal complaints and demanding accountability, the main doors at the front of the auditorium swung open from the outside.
A tall, straight figure stepped in against the light.
Lu Zheng’s face was stern and sharp, his eyes cold as frost, radiating an overwhelming, commanding presence.
Behind him followed Zhou Kai, Xu Yan, Ji Yang, and the rest of the criminal investigation team.
The noisy hall fell dead silent in an instant.
Almost every eye turned toward Lu Zheng as he led the way.
Cold white light glinted off his chiseled profile, carrying an air of unspoken authority and solemnity.
The school principal looked at Lu Zheng as if he were a lifeline in the chaos.
“Officer Lu, what exactly is going on?” he asked.
Lu Zheng met his gaze. “We’ve found the killer.”
He strode forward with long, purposeful steps, heading straight for Zhao Chengye.
When Zhao Chengye saw Lu Zheng approaching, his heart slammed against his ribs and his limbs turned icy cold.
Had they found something?
No, that couldn’t be.
Even as Lu Zheng stopped right in front of him, Zhao Chengye kept telling himself otherwise.
They couldn’t possibly have any evidence—they probably just knew he was Qi Sheng’s boss and wanted to ask a few questions. But the next second, his blood ran cold as he saw the man pull out a pair of silver handcuffs.
“Zhao Chengye, please come with us to the station for questioning.”
Zhao Chengye’s face twisted in alarm, and he raised his voice sharply. “On what grounds? I’m only here to attend my alma mater’s anniversary! I’ve done nothing wrong—why are you arresting me for no reason?”
He was certain of himself: the clothes and tools he’d used during the crime had all been burned. Every trace at the scene had been wiped clean. The police had nothing on him.
Still, he couldn’t help but wonder—how had they narrowed it down to him so quickly?
He’d glanced up at the newly installed camera for barely half a second, after all. He’d been fully covered and carefully disguised. Even if they’d seen him, they should never have suspected him.
Where had he slipped up?
“One week ago, you came to the school. You avoided crowds and quietly scouted out the old teaching building,” Lu Zheng said, his gaze piercing and his tone unyielding. “Did you think burning your clothes and rope would be enough to cover everything up?”
Zhao Chengye’s expression flickered, and a flash of panic crossed his eyes.
“You planned every detail perfectly, but you didn’t expect two people to arrive downstairs right after you pushed Qi Sheng off the ledge. You had no choice but to escape using the rope—but as you climbed down, exposed rebar sticking out of the wall nicked your arm and drew blood.”
“You wiped the spot repeatedly with tissues, but that only removed surface stains. Luminol reagent used in forensic investigations picks up even the faintest traces.”
Zhao Chengye’s pupils dilated violently, and the color drained from his face.
He’d thought he’d left absolutely no loose ends—never imagined the police would be so thorough, or that they’d close in on him this fast.
A distorted look crept over his features, and suddenly a chilling laugh bubbled up from his throat.
“Hehehe—”
As he laughed, tears spilled from his eyes. “Qi Sheng was nothing but an ungrateful traitor! He deserved to die—even a thousand deaths wouldn’t be enough to make up for what he did to me!”
Before Zhao Chengye could lose control completely, Lu Zheng signaled his officers to escort him to the police van.
……
Once Zhao Chengye was taken away, Lu Zheng softened his stern demeanor. He picked up the microphone, walked onto the stage, and addressed the crowd.
“Earlier tonight, a fatal fall occurred on campus. To uncover the truth as quickly as possible, we had no choice but to lock down the school. I sincerely apologize for the delay and inconvenience this has caused everyone.”
His gaze swept over the audience, his voice steady and upright. “In carrying out our duties, we will never wrong an innocent person. Every step we take is to uphold justice and get to the bottom of what happened.”
“The suspect is now in custody. We will lift the lockdown immediately. Thank you all for your understanding and cooperation—you may leave in an orderly fashion shortly. And if you ever encounter wrongdoing in the future, I ask that you trust the police to do our jobs.”
His words were fair, sincere, and spoken with humility and respect.
Even the business leaders who had threatened to file complaints were struck silent, deeply impressed by Lu Zheng’s strength of character and breadth of vision.
Standing beside Ming Tang, Wen Qingli looked up at the man on stage and felt a quiet swell of pride.
True to form—this was the man she’d admired for years, unwavering in his integrity.
After Lu Zheng left in the police van, Wen Qingli walked Ming Tang out of the campus. On the way, she sent him a message.
“I’ll be staying with Tang these days, so I won’t be back at Jingyuan.”
Ming Tang had watched her idol fall to his death with her own eyes; the trauma was immense, and she needed someone by her side.
A moment later, Lu Zheng replied.
Z: “No need to tell me where you’re going. You don’t have to report your movements to me.”
Wen Qingli lowered her long lashes, a faint pang of disappointment tugging at her heart.
“Alright. I won’t do it next time.”
When Lu Zheng saw the reply, his brows drew together almost imperceptibly.
He’d been the one to say it—so why did seeing her answer like that leave him feeling strangely out of sorts?