Attending ex-girlfriend's wedding, arresting the groom's officer on the spot

The truck bed was empty, with only a few hemp ropes used to tie up the goods lying haphazardly in a corner, the ropes seemingly still bearing some dark stains.

"Attention all units, target vehicle locked, prepare for arrest." Wang Shuai gave the order in a low voice over the walkie-talkie. The team members quickly dispersed, forming a semi-circular encirclement, and slowly approached the truck. Zheng Biao was sitting in the driver's seat, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, looking leisurely at his phone, completely unaware of the approaching danger.

When the team members suddenly pulled open the driver's side door, Zheng Biao was clearly startled, and his phone fell to the ground with a "thud." He instinctively tried to resist, but before he could make a move, the team members held him firmly down. "What are you doing? Let me go!" Zheng Biao roared, the scar on his left eyebrow twisted with rage, looking particularly ferocious.

While searching the truck, the team members' attention quickly fell on a hidden compartment in the cab. The moment they opened it, a faint smell of blood wafted out, revealing a wrench stained with dark red blood. Several dark blue fibers were also stuck in the wrench's groove; a preliminary comparison confirmed they perfectly matched the fibers of Zhang Kaiqi's work clothes. In the passenger-side storage compartment, the team also found an old cell phone; the screen was cracked, but it could still be turned on.

Opening the phone's photo album, the contents caused everyone to frown. The album contained numerous nude photos of Su Wanjun, mostly taken at her home. The last photo was taken on the night of the incident; in the photo, Su Wanjun is wearing pajamas, leaning languidly against the sofa, while behind her, on the floor, Zhang Kaiqi's black briefcase is clearly visible, its zipper open, revealing stacks of documents inside.

When Zheng Biao was led into the interrogation room, his face was so dark it seemed to drip water. He sat in a chair, his hands cuffed to the table legs, twisting and turning as if trying to break free. The interrogation room light shone directly on his face, making it difficult for him to open his eyes, and the scar on his left eyebrow was faintly visible in the light.

"Zheng Biao, tell me, where were you on the night of the incident?" Zhang Hui's voice was calm but carried an undeniable authority. Zheng Biao turned his head to the side, remaining silent and refusing to cooperate.

Zhang Hui wasn't in a hurry. Instead, he placed the bloodstained wrench on the table: "Do you recognize this? We've already tested the bloodstains and the fibers in the groove, and they match Zhang Kaiqi's perfectly." Zheng Biao's body visibly stiffened, but he still didn't speak.

Then, Zhang Hui projected the photos from his phone onto the wall: "What's with these photos? Were you at Su Wanjun's house the night of the incident?" Upon seeing the photos, Zheng Biao suddenly became agitated: "That was consensual between us! What does it have to do with Zhang Kaiqi?"

“What does it have to do with him?” Zhang Hui sneered. “Then tell me, why did Zhang Kaiqi die? Why is there red mud from the Beishan warehouse on your truck tires? Why is his blood on your wrench?” A series of questions left Zheng Biao speechless, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

After a long silence, Zheng Biao finally raised his head and said in a hoarse voice, "He seduced Xiao Su first! I love Xiao Su so much, what right does he have to interfere?" His emotions grew more and more agitated. "On the night of the incident, I wanted to give Xiao Su a surprise, but I didn't expect to see them together as soon as I walked in! Zhang Kaiqi even dared to challenge me, saying he wanted to take Xiao Su away. I couldn't stand it, so... so I picked up a wrench and hit him..."

"Why did you drag him to the warehouse?" Zhang Hui pressed. "I just wanted to find a place to hide him," Zheng Biao's voice was tinged with panic. "I was afraid of being exposed, so I thought of staging the scene to make you think that someone else did it. Those erased fingerprints and the things I deliberately left behind were all done by me, just so that you wouldn't be able to trace it back to me."

“I didn’t mean to kill him, I really didn’t mean to kill him,” Zheng Biao repeated, his eyes filled with fear and remorse. “I was just too angry, and acted impulsively…”

When Su Wanjun signed the arrest warrant, the pen trembled so much she could barely hold it. The ink smudged on the three characters "Su Wanjun," like her illicit relationship with Zhang Kaiqi, ultimately stained black with blood.

The day after Zheng Biao's arrest.

When the police car escorting Zheng Biao stopped at the entrance of Beishan Logistics Park, the morning mist had not yet dissipated, and the corrugated iron roofs of the warehouse area gleamed with a damp, cold light. Two special police officers carried him by the arms toward warehouse number 17 in Block B. The chains dragged on the concrete floor with a screeching sound, like tearing at bloodstains that had congealed three days earlier. Zheng Biao's rubber boots stepped through puddles at the warehouse entrance, splashing mud onto his trouser legs, the pattern of which perfectly matched the shoe prints recorded by Yang Lin during the on-site investigation.

“This is it.” Zheng Biao’s voice was muffled by the mist. He stared at the dent on the inside of the warehouse roller shutter door—half a piece of dark blue fabric fiber remained there, which Yang Lin’s investigation report clearly noted was “consistent with the material of Zhang Kaiqi’s work clothes.” When the SWAT officers lifted the cordon, Zheng Biao suddenly struggled violently, the scar on his left eyebrow contorting with spasms: “Don’t touch that door! There are my fingerprints on it…” Before he could finish speaking, a baton was pressed against his lower back, and his voice was cut off.

The musty smell mixed with the odor of disinfectant wafted from the warehouse. Zheng Biao's gaze swept over the pile of cardboard boxes in the corner, then he suddenly squatted down, tracing an arc on the ground with his finger: "He fell right here, head facing west." The technician immediately marked the spot with chalk; this location perfectly matched Yang Lin's measurement of "2.3 meters from the west wall." Zheng Biao's fingernails dug into the cracks in the cement floor, where dark red stains remained—the spot where forensic pathologist Zhang Kai had extracted Zhang Kaiqi's DNA.

"What did you use to hit him?" Zhang Hui held up a photo of the scene. The shadow of the wrench in the photo overlapped with the trajectory of Zheng Biao's finger. Zheng Biao's Adam's apple bobbed as his gaze fell on the iron rack deep inside the warehouse. "It was... that wrench in the corner, the one we usually use to fix forklifts." He suddenly trembled. "The first time it hit his shoulder, he yelled 'Ow!' and turned to run..."

This confession perfectly matched the autopsy report's record of "fresh bone fracture at the site of an old fracture of the left humerus." Yang Lin squatted at the location marked by Zheng Biao and measured with a laser rangefinder: "The distance from here to the iron frame is 4.7 meters, consistent with the tracks left by being chased while running." He suddenly pointed to the scratches on the ground, "How were these drag marks formed?"

Zheng Biao's face flickered in and out of the warehouse's shadows: "He tripped over the cable and hit his head on the corner of the metal frame." He gestured as if bending over and dragging, his arm muscles tense. (End of Chapter)