Chapter 162: Behind the Scenes Mastermind

The note that read "Don't meddle" sat in Li Ping'an's mouth like a shard of ice, an unmelting chill. In the case‑closing report, Zhou Wenyuan's name was crossed out in red ink, yet the string in Li Ping'an's heart tightened even more. He tossed and turned at night, Zhou Wenyuan's last half‑smile constantly flickering before his eyes— it didn't feel like a defeat was sealed, but rather… his part in the play had finally been performed.

"Brother, your dark circles are almost catching up to a panda's," Li Ping'e pushed the porridge bowl over, worry written all over his small face, "Aren't all the matters at the plant finished?"

Li Ping'an took the bowl, rubbed his sister's hair, "Finished? You catch one Fox Tail, but who knows how many are hidden in the hole."

He swallowed the porridge in a few bites, grabbed his backpack, "Come, I'll take you to school."

Inside the Steel Rolling Mill Security Department, the atmosphere was blazing. Wang Dahu's voice was so loud it could lift the roof: "Section Chief! The higher‑ups want to record a collective achievement for us! Tonight at Donglaishun, I'm treating—lamb will be plenty!"

A few young teammates echoed excitedly, and the office filled with a lively air.

Li Ping'an watched this band of comrades fighting side by side, then swallowed the words that rose to his mouth. He forced a smile, "The achievement belongs to everyone, and we all need to eat the meat. But…" He shifted tone, patted Wang Dahu's shoulder, "Let's hold off on the celebratory drink; the tail hasn't been swept clean, so we can't drink with a clear conscience."

Wang Dahu was momentarily stunned, then pounded his chest, "Section Chief, you say, what else do we need to investigate?"

"The batch of sealed items belonging to Zhou Wenyuan, go over them again," Li Ping'an lowered his voice, "Especially the ones with characters—don't let a single scrap of paper slip by."

"We've already screened them three times…"

"Then screen a fourth time." Li Ping'an's gaze was serious, "Remember, those who travel a hundred li are only halfway at ninety."

Wang Dahu, though baffled, nodded heavily, "Got it! I'm going right now!"

After everyone left, Li Ping'an stared blankly at the files. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting bright patches on the cement floor, yet a fog lingered in his mind. Zhou Wenyuan was too cooperative, as if following a pre‑written script. The empty Poison Fang Slot was even more odd—would someone who truly wants to die wait until everything is settled before acting?

His fingertips drummed the desk. If Zhou Wenyuan were merely a "shadow," what would the real "teacher" look like? One would need to know Zhou Wenyuan's handwriting, be able to access plant information, and have the skill to wipe every trace clean after Zhou Wenyuan is caught.

Just as he was thinking, Wang Dahu returned, holding a Thin Notebook, "Section Chief, we actually found something! It was in the Bookstore Warehouse's waste‑paper pile—a ledger notebook, nothing substantial, but it has this smell… oddly familiar."

Li Ping'an took it. The hard‑cover was yellowed inside, recording a few strings of unreadable numbers. He leaned in to sniff—a faint musty odor mixed with a delicate sandalwood scent—he was certain he had smelled this before!

Memory flashed back violently. Right—last month, when he escorted his sister to school for an event, they brushed past a leader at the auditorium entrance, and that person exuded this distinctive sandalwood. At the time his sister whispered, "Director Zheng really smells good."

Zheng Zeming! City Culture Bureau Deputy Director, scholarly demeanor, an excellent reputation.

Li Ping'an's heart gave a jolt. Age, education, connections… all matched. More importantly, Zheng Zeming had full ability to imitate Zhou Wenyuan's handwriting and could naturally encounter people like Zhao Zhigang through Cultural System activities.

"Dahu," Li Ping'an said evenly, tucking the notebook away, "Tonight at Donglaishun as usual, you go first; I'll arrive later."

In the days that followed, Li Ping'an appeared normal on the surface, but secretly began a covert investigation. Every clue streamed like a rivulet toward the sea—Zheng Zeming's calligraphy skill, his dealings with the old literati circle, even his family's tenuous connection to the foreign firm Zhou Wenyuan once worked for…

It was time to "cast a stone to test the road."

The opportunity arrived quickly. His sister returned from school, excitedly holding a notice, "Brother! On Friday the school has a Red Storytelling Session, Director Zheng is coming to speak, are you going?"

Li Ping'an's mind flickered, "Going, of course I'm going."

Friday afternoon, the Hongxing Primary School auditorium was packed. Zheng Zeming sat at the center of the podium, his silver hair meticulously combed, his gaze behind gold‑rimmed glasses gentle and wise. He spoke at a measured pace, occasionally quoting classics, drawing continuous applause from the audience.

"Look at Director Zheng, that demeanor—so pretentious," a parent muttered softly nearby.

Li Ping'an smiled without a word, his gaze fixed on the man on stage.

When the event ended, parents gathered to chat. Li Ping'an timed it, and with his sister "just" walked over to Zheng Zeming's side.

"Director Zheng, your speech was excellent," Li Ping'an said with a smile.

Zheng Zeming turned, and when he saw Li Ping'an, a flash of rapid surprise crossed his eyes, then he gave a warm smile, "And who is this…?"

Li Ping'e rushed to answer, "Director Zheng, this is my brother, the Steel Rolling Mill Security Department Section Chief! He's impressive—just captured a spy!"

Zheng Zeming's smile deepened, "So you're Section Chief Li, young and capable. I heard you just cracked a big case, thank you for your hard work."

"Just part of the job," Li Ping'an said modestly, his gaze like a precise ruler measuring the other, "Even the craftiest fox can't outmatch a skilled hunter."

"The heavens' net is vast and never lets anything slip," Zheng Zeming nodded, his tone as casual as chatting about the weather, "Speaking of it, the main culprit is Zhou Wenyuan? I met him years ago at a cultural salon—very learned, but sadly took the wrong path."

His words were airtight, yet Li Ping'an keenly sensed something off—far too composed. An ordinary person hearing about the main suspect of a freshly cracked major case would show some curiosity, not comment as if evaluating an unrelated ancient figure.

He stepped forward half a pace, lowered his voice, "Speaking of Zhou Wenyuan, during our search we found a strange notebook with unreadable numbers and a sandalwood scent—somewhat similar to the scent on you."

In an instant, Zheng Zeming's right index finger tapped the cup's rim very lightly. Though his smile remained, the pupil behind his glasses contracted imperceptibly for a split second.

"Is that so?" Zheng Zeming's voice was steady, "What a coincidence. I usually light sandalwood to calm my mind, didn't expect a fellow enthusiast. As for the notebook… those who handle espionage love these Mystic Void things."

His response was seamless. Yet that fleeting micro‑expression and tiny hand motion already revealed everything.

"Maybe I'm being too sensitive," Li Ping'an said, wrapping up, pulling his sister's hand, "I won't disturb you further."

As he turned to leave, he felt a gaze settle on his back—calm, yet weighty.

Stepping out of the auditorium, the sunset stretched the shadows long. Li Ping'e hopped, "Brother, Director Zheng is really nice, even praised my Red Scarf for being tidy!"

Li Ping'an rubbed his sister's hair, his heart heavy. He knew that the test just now had already sent a challenge to the "Poison Snake" lurking deep within.

The real contest is only just beginning.

That night at Donglaishun, steam rose in the heat. Wang Dahu leaned over, whispering, "Section Chief, any findings from the school this afternoon?"

Li Ping'an lifted a piece of lamb with chopsticks, slowly stirring it in the sesame sauce, "Findings… some foxes are wearing human skin and sitting on the podium."

Wang Dahu's eyes widened, about to ask more, but Li Ping'an already raised his wine glass, "Come, brothers, one round! The road ahead is long; let's fill up now!"

Amid the clinking of glasses, Li Ping'an's gaze passed the noisy crowd, looking out at the heavy night beyond the window. He knew the opponent he would face was more cunning and dangerous than Zhou Wenyuan.

But some roads must be walked by someone.