Chapter 224

When Xiao Hai described that night’s events, he had thought the letter must have been written with a extract of peyote, and after Lou Zhen tore it up, Zhang Qizhi would naturally clean it up completely to avoid discovery.

Judging from Zhang Qizhi’s meticulous planning in orchestrating Lou Zhen’s death, he is an extremely careful and cautious man; after retrieving the torn letter, he would never casually discard it—he would hide it somewhere he deemed safe to prevent police from finding it.

So, where in Zhang Qizhi’s mind would be the safest place? Most people would assume their own home is safest, but someone like Zhang Qizhi, who has other women outside, would hardly trust his wife, and he certainly wouldn’t choose his mistress Huang Li’s place—so the one place he considered safest and where he could see it every day was naturally his office.

Gu Changzheng tried to think from Zhang Qizhi’s perspective and situation, concluding that he would never easily trust anyone else—only himself could make him feel secure.

So he immediately thought to search Zhang Qizhi’s office. The torn letter probably no longer existed, but the “special” writing material—peyote extract—was very likely still hidden there.

Zhang Qizhi’s office differed from ordinary ones: simple and dignified, with no books arranged merely for show. On the bookshelf behind his desk, only the bottom shelf held professional texts; the rest displayed vases and ornaments. Gu Changzheng casually touched one—and noticed a blue garlic-shaped vase felt heavier than the others.

This caught his attention. He picked it up and shook it gently; a rattling sound came from inside. He leaned close, squinting—the interior seemed filled with numerous objects.

He called softly: “Gao Ye! Come here!”

Gao Ye walked over. Gu Changzheng said: “Find a container—there’s something inside.” Gao Ye brought a cup from the coffee table. Gu Changzheng turned the vase upside down, and tiny white pebbles, grape-sized, tumbled out. He kept pouring until every pebble was emptied. Gao Ye said: “Captain Gu, it’s just a pile of pebbles!”

“What is this thing?” Gu Changzheng suddenly pinched one pebble between his fingers. Gao Ye took it—his touch revealed no cold, hard stone texture; instead, it was soft. When he squeezed it, something liquid seemed to move inside.

“Search again—there should be more of these fake pebbles here!” Gu Changzheng said.

Indeed, among the pile were ten fake pebbles with soft surfaces.

“Take them back for testing. If I’m right, this is what drove Lou Zhen to jump,” Gu Changzheng said calmly.

———

“The lab results show the liquid inside those plastic beads is precisely peyote extract!” Lao Zheng informed Gu Changzheng the moment the results came in.

Gu Changzheng smiled faintly. As he’d suspected, the peyote extract had been in Zhang Qizhi’s possession. Now, every person and clue that had entered police view since Lou Zhen’s fall connected perfectly—only one final, crucial node remained: proving Zhang Qizhi forged the suicide note. Only then could his murder charge be undeniable.

He was unsure of Xiao Hai’s true intentions. If his first statement was meant to aid Zhang Qizhi by shifting blame onto Chen Junyang, why now refuse to mention the note at all? What was he hiding? But that “suicide note” was locked in the evidence room!

He shook his head, deciding to set it aside for now. Once Zhang Qizhi confessed, everything would resolve itself.

———

In the interrogation room, when Zhang Qizhi faced Gu Changzheng again—especially after Gu Changzheng placed before him the white spheres filled with peyote extract—his face turned deathly pale.

He knew clearly: though he had always claimed Lou Zhen deserved to die, he had never admitted to killing her. But now the police had found his hidden peyote extract—he was in a dire position. He had intended to steer police toward believing Lou Zhen jumped after a heated argument with him, but now, his charge of premeditated murder was unavoidable.

Gu Changzheng watched him silently. Seeing his face flicker with uncertainty, he knew Zhang Qizhi was still scrambling for a way out. He didn’t let him think longer: “Zhang Qizhi, these are peyote extracts found in your office—a substance that induces intense hallucinations when inhaled, correct?”

Zhang Qizhi lowered his head, silent. Gu Changzheng knew he was testing how much was known. He chuckled: “You used this substance to write a letter—falsely attributed to your father. You knew Lou Zhen, though promiscuous, still felt gratitude toward your father—so she’d read his letter.”

Gu Changzheng noticed Zhang Qizhi’s body tremble slightly when he mentioned his father. He continued: “But your imitation of his handwriting was poor—or perhaps Lou Zhen knew your father too well. Either way, she spotted the forgery at once, tore the letter in anger—and ironically, that accelerated the vaporization of the drug. As you planned, she inhaled large amounts unconsciously in her rage, lost control of her mind, and under your guidance, climbed onto the rooftop railing and jumped.”

“Hmph!” Zhang Qizhi sneered. “I don’t know why you have such a vivid imagination. She jumped because she felt guilty—guilty toward my family, guilty toward my father, guilty toward my mother! Her remorse drove her to leap. What does this have to do with me?”

“You still cling to delusions!” Gu Changzheng suddenly roared, like thunder shaking Zhang Qizhi’s ears. “You think because you didn’t physically push her, her death has nothing to do with you? You schemed relentlessly—first framing Chen Junyang for murder, then, when we saw through your plot, you tried to mislead us into believing Lou Zhen jumped out of guilt toward your father. But all your calculations failed—you left behind one crucial piece of evidence at the scene!”

Zhang Qizhi froze, staring at Gu Changzheng, who pulled from a nearby folder a transparent plastic bag containing a scrap of paper with writing on it.

Gu Changzheng said: “You were careful—but you left this fragment on the rooftop. And it bears your fingerprint. The ink on it? Written with the same substance found in your office.”

Zhang Qizhi trembled violently. “Impossible! I wore gloves when writing! How could there be a fingerprint!”