After breaking up with my boyfriend, I made a fortune and rose rapidly in my career.

The creaking of the iron gate of the municipal party committee compound was still ringing in his ears when Chen Pingfang switched his phone to speakerphone and rushed back to the parking lot in a few quick steps.

"When did this happen?"

"It was discovered at 2:40 PM this afternoon during a patrol by the detention center guards," Zhou Weiguo said, his voice hoarse and strained. "It was a strip of cloth torn from a shirt, hanging on the window railing of the bathroom."

Chen Ping opened the car door, sat in the driver's seat, and stepped on the brake without starting the engine.

"Was the person rescued?"

"They were taken to Guangling City People's Hospital, where they were resuscitated for forty minutes, but they couldn't save them."

In the rearview mirror, the security guards at the entrance of the municipal party committee compound were changing shifts, the two men exchanging signature boards with an almost mundane gesture. Chen Ping stared at the mirror for three seconds, then turned the key, and the engine roared to life.

"I'm coming now. Wait for me at the hospital, don't go anywhere else."

"Director Chen, there's one more thing."

Zhou Weiguo's throat bobbed, then he swallowed even lower.

"During the initial forensic examination, the forensic doctor scraped out skin flakes from under Fang Zhiyuan's fingernails."

Chen Ping paused for a moment on the accelerator.

"What did you say?"

There were skin flakes under his fingernails. They weren't his own.

The person who hanged himself had other people's skin flakes hidden under his fingernails.

This means that Fang Zhiyuan had physical contact with someone before his death. Not the kind of contact like shaking hands, but the kind of contact where he struggled, scratched, and desperately tried to survive.

Chen Ping didn't ask any more questions. He hung up the phone, backed the car out of the parking space, and stepped on the gas, plunging into the traffic on Jianshe Road.

From Nanzhou to Guangling, it's 160 kilometers via the expressway. Chen Ping calculated the time; he could arrive before nine o'clock.

With the steering wheel in my hands, my mind is already racing.

Fang Zhiyuan is a key witness in Yan Qinghua's case, the only one from the old gang in Guangling who has loosened his grip and begun to confess. What he says goes beyond just the corrupt scum in Guangling—Fang Zhiyuan may not know everything about Yan Qinghua's network of connections built over a decade, which lines lead to the provincial level and which connect overseas, but he certainly knows some of it.

So someone wants him to shut up.

It wasn't suicide; it was to silence him.

The streetlights along the highway flashed past, their orange glow reflecting off the windshield. Chen Ping kept the car at 140 km/h, took out his phone with his right hand, and scrolled to a number in his contacts.

Zheng Xian, the head of the Criminal Investigation Department of the Provincial Public Security Bureau, didn't have much of a personal relationship with Chen Pingfang, but after the completion of the Xin Huo Phase II case, everyone in the provincial department knew who Chen Pingfang was.

The phone rang four times after it was dialed.

"Chief Zheng, this is Chen Pingfang."

"Director Chen." Zheng Xian's form of address had changed; his reaction was quick. "What instructions?"

"A person died today at Guangling Detention Center. His name was Fang Zhiyuan."

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone.

"I've heard about it."

"The forensic examiner found unidentified skin flakes in his fingernails. I need you to do two things."

Chen Ping turned the steering wheel to the left, overtook a large truck, and his voice was so steady that there wasn't a tremor.

"First, launch a secret investigation into all the guards and staff on duty at the detention center. Focus on who entered Fang Zhiyuan's cell block and who had contact with him between 1 p.m. and 3 p.m. today."

"Secondly, that skin tissue sample should be immediately sent to the provincial DNA laboratory for comparison. Use the expedited channel, bypassing any intermediaries. The results should be reported directly to me."

Zheng Xian remained silent for three seconds on the other end.

"Director Chen, this case is currently under the jurisdiction of the Guangling City Public Security Bureau."

"Chief Zheng," Chen Ping interrupted him, his words slow but deliberate. "Fang Zhiyuan was a key witness in Yan Qinghua's case. He died in the detention center, and there were other people's skin flakes under his fingernails. Do you think the Guangling City Public Security Bureau can investigate this thoroughly?"

I heard a click from the other end of the phone, followed by a long exhale.

"Understood. I'll arrange it right away."

After hanging up the phone, Chen Ping tossed it onto the passenger seat. The protective forests on both sides of the highway appeared as short black lines in the twilight, and the last vestiges of orange-red on the horizon had faded completely.

Fang Zhiyuan is dead.

The thread was broken, but the cut was stained with blood, and the bloodstains pointed to the other end, where a hand was still hidden in the shadows.

He Hongru fell, Han Zhengke went to jail, and the people from Company M were detained. Everyone thought the battle was over.

But Chen Ping understood clearly that He Hongru was merely a branch on the trunk. The true roots were buried within the network that Yan Qinghua had cultivated for over a decade. Fang Zhiyuan was the probe inserted into the soil; someone had pulled out the probe, which meant the roots were still alive.

At 8:52 p.m., the car turned off the highway and entered the urban area of ​​Guangling.

The morgue of Guangling City People's Hospital is located in a separate gray building behind the inpatient department, where the corridor lights cast a stark white glow. Zhou Weiguo stood at the end of the corridor, leaning against the wall, his hands in his pockets, his cheeks sunken, and he looked noticeably thinner.

He saw Chen Pingfang walking over from the other end of the corridor, his knees twitched, he took two steps forward to meet him, and then stopped.

"Director Chen~"

"You went inside and checked?"

Zhou Weiguo nodded.

"I examined the ligature marks on the neck, and the forensic doctor said they were consistent with suicide by hanging. However, the nails on the left index and middle fingers were broken in two pieces, and the nail beds were torn."

Chen Ping pushed open the morgue door, and a blast of cold air hit him. Fang Zhiyuan lay on a stainless steel trolley, covered with a white sheet, only his ashen face showing.

Chen Ping walked closer, lifted a corner of the white cloth, and looked down at Fang Zhiyuan's left hand.

Two broken fingernails, the tear lines in the nail bed extending from the root to the fingertip. This wasn't a knock; it was caused by someone gripping something tightly and being forcibly pried apart.

He covered the white cloth back up and took a step back.

"What did the detention center say?"

"They said Fang Zhiyuan has been emotionally unstable lately and has self-harm tendencies." Zhou Weiguo pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers and pressed it hard twice. "But I checked his interrogation records from the previous three days. He appeared to be in a normal mental state in front of the prosecutor and even proactively asked to provide additional information."

One person who volunteered to provide further details then turned around and hanged himself.

Chen Ping turned and walked out of the morgue, with Zhou Weiguo following behind.

"Weiguo, stabilize the situation in Guangling first. As for Fang Zhiyuan's death, just state the situation as it was reported by the detention center. Don't create any unnecessary complications."

Zhou Weiguo opened his mouth.

"But you need to keep an eye on one thing for me privately." Chen Ping stopped and turned to the side. "After Fang Zhiyuan was locked up, besides the prosecutor and the lawyer, has anyone else visited him? Check the visitor records, the surveillance footage, the duty logs. Don't miss a single page, a single second."

"You have doubts~"

"I have no doubts. I only look at the evidence."

Chen Ping patted Zhou Weiguo on the shoulder, pressing down hard.

"You're the acting mayor now, you can handle things in Guangling. But don't let anyone know you're investigating this matter."

Zhou Weiguo's Adam's apple bobbed, and he nodded.

After leaving the hospital, Chen Ping got back into his car but didn't start the engine. The itinerary Su Qingwan had found kept replaying in his mind.

The Netherlands. A blank day. Yan Qinghua. Nexvance B.V.

Whose bottom line did Fang Zhiyuan cross with the part of the truth he had uncovered?

The phone lit up briefly on the passenger seat.

An encrypted message, sent by Zheng Xian.

Chen Ping picked up his phone and swiped the screen with his thumb.

The message consists of only two lines:

"Match successful. The skin flakes belong to one person—Wu Shaoming, Yan Qinghua's former secretary. He resigned from the Guangling Municipal Government three months ago, and his whereabouts are unknown."

Chen Ping's thumb rested on the screen, and the white light from the streetlights outside the car window shone in, making the two lines of text glaringly bright.

Wu Shaoming.

That name had just appeared in Jiacheng Precision's visitor registration book two weeks ago.