You went on a blind date and presented an A-level wanted criminal as a meeting gift?

The fluorescent lights in the archives room suddenly turned on with a "pop".

The blinding light instantly filled the entire room, making the flame of the lighter in Zhao Deshun's hand seem almost invisible.

His pupils suddenly contracted.

The door to the archives was pushed open from the outside. Su Qingge stood in the doorway, with six fully armed special police officers behind her and four people blocking each end of the passage.

All the gun barrels were pointed at Zhao Deshun.

Zhao Deshun's lighter was still held in mid-air.

The access panel of the ventilation duct was kicked open with a "bang," and Lin Chen climbed out from inside.

He dusted himself off, as casually as if he had just jumped off his own balcony.

"Team Leader Zhao, playing with fire in the archives in the middle of the night, quite the refined hobby."

Zhao Deshun's hand trembled slightly, but his reaction speed was faster than Lin Chen had expected.

The lighter went out with a "pop".

His face instantly switched back to that harmless expression, his brows furrowed, and he made a relieved gesture.

"Advisor Lin! Qingge! You've come at the perfect time!"

His voice carried just the right amount of surprise and relief.

"I was resting in the duty room upstairs when I heard some noise coming from the archives, so I came down to check it out."

"It turned out the access control had been pried open, Xiao Li was lying on the ground, and the case file was scattered in the hallway. I was just about to call to report it."

He held up the file in his hand and then pointed to Li Mingyu, who was lying on the ground.

"Look, Xiao Li has a wound on the back of his neck. He must have been attacked from behind. The thief had already fled by the time I arrived."

He spoke at a moderate pace, with clear logic and natural emotion.

Almost flawless.

After listening, Lin Chen clapped twice.

"Captain Zhao, your acting skills over thirty-two years are truly impressive."

Zhao Deshun's smile remained unchanged: "What do you mean by that, Consultant Lin?"

"It means you can save your breath."

Lin Chen walked to where Li Mingyu had fallen, squatted down, and glanced at the red and swollen mark on the back of his neck.

Then he stood up and looked at Zhao Deshun.

"The impact mark on the back of Li Mingyu's neck was 3.2 centimeters wide and 0.7 centimeters deep, with the impact angle being a downward cut at 45 degrees."

Zhao Deshun still had a smile on his face, but the curve of his smile had frozen in place.

"The angle and force indicate that the attacker is between 1.72 and 1.75 meters tall, right-handed, with a large hand frame but rough knuckles."

"How tall are you again, Captain Zhao? 1.73 meters?"

Zhao Deshun did not answer.

Lin Chen continued, his tone as casual as if he were talking about the weather.

"Access control records show that only two people's fingerprints were used to unlock this door tonight."

"One is Li Mingyu, who arrived at 2:36 PM; the other is you, who arrived at 2:21 PM. You entered 15 minutes earlier than him."

Zhao Deshun's lips moved slightly.

"Access control records can be tampered with."

"Yes, but not the soles of your shoes."

Lin Chen glanced down at the black soft-soled sneakers on Zhao Deshun's feet.

"The floor of the archives is sprayed with a special moisture-proof powder once a week. The powder is made of modified diatomaceous earth with extremely fine particles that are invisible to the naked eye."

"You took thirty-seven steps from the door to cabinet number 12 in section B."

"The tread pattern on the soles of your shoes has compressed this powder into a complete chain of footprints, and the starting point of this chain of footprints is directly behind where Li Mingyu fell."

Lin Chen tilted his head.

"You said you 'arrived when the thief had already escaped,' then please tell me, Captain Zhao, why did your footprints start behind Li Mingyu? Why did the concentration of powder on the soles of your shoes decrease from the doorway to cabinet number 12? You walked there, you didn't chase after him."

Zhao Deshun's smile finally crumbled.

The corner of his mouth began to twitch unnaturally.

Lin Chen snatched the file from his hand.

"And this too."

He turned the file over so the back was facing up, then took out a UV flashlight from his pocket and turned it on.

When the purple light shone on it, large areas of bright green fluorescent traces instantly appeared on the cover and back of the file.

The fluorescent lights were shaped like fingers and palms, with fingerprints so clear they looked like they had been pressed onto the surface with ink.

"This file is coated with my specially made ultraviolet fluorescent developer."

"It is colorless and odorless, invisible at room temperature, but once it comes into contact with the skin, it penetrates the stratum corneum of the epidermis and cannot be washed off for at least 72 hours."

Lin Chen shone the ultraviolet flashlight on Zhao Deshun's hands.

Both hands, ten fingers, palms, and backs of hands, were all fluorescent green.

It was blindingly bright.

Zhao Deshun looked down at his hands, which were so green they seemed to glow, and fell silent.

The entire archive room was so quiet that you could hear the hum of the fluorescent lights.

The special police officers held their guns, not daring to breathe.

Su Qingge stood at the door, her fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

Zhao Deshun remained silent for five seconds.

Then he laughed.

This laugh is unlike any I've ever had before.

It wasn't a gentle smile, nor an innocent smile.

It's a laugh that comes from having completely torn away the disguise, like someone who's barefoot and unafraid of those wearing shoes.

"Lin Chen."

His voice changed.

He was no longer the kind Uncle Zhao, but an old hunter who had been lying in the shadows for thirty-two years.

"You really are a monster."

His gaze swept over Lin Chen, over Su Qingge, over the SWAT officers with guns at the door, and finally settled back on Lin Chen's face.

"But you think that's the end of it just because you caught me?"

His right hand slowly reached towards his waist.

Su Qingge suddenly drew her sidearm.

"Don't move your hands!"

Zhao Deshun didn't stop.

He unzipped his coat.

Beneath his coat, close to his waist and abdomen, was wrapped a ring of grayish-white stuff.

Lin Chen narrowed his eyes.

C4.

Miniaturized C4 plastic explosives were tightly wrapped around the waist with medical tape.

A pea-sized detonator was embedded in the middle of the explosive, connected to a thin wire that extended all the way to Zhao Deshun's right hand.

He held a metal cylinder about the size of a thumb in his right hand.

Pine-type detonator.

When the hand is released, the spring rebounds, triggering the detonator.

Everyone stopped.

A cold smile played on Zhao Deshun's lips.

"Everyone, step back."

"Although this thing isn't very powerful, it's enough to send everyone present to their deaths in this confined space."

He looked at Su Qingge.

"Qingge, prepare a car for me, fill it with gas, and don't install a GPS."

"Once I'm in a safe place, I'll naturally throw away the detonator."

Su Qingge had her gun pointed at Zhao Deshun's head, but she didn't dare pull the trigger.

At that distance, a bullet could end Zhao Deshun's life in a fraction of a second.

However, the release-type detonator relies on releasing the trigger, so killing it will detonate the bomb.

deadlock.

The special police officers looked at each other, none of them daring to move.

Li Mingyu, who was on the ground, woke up at this moment.

He opened his eyes groggily, feeling a sharp pain in the back of his head, as if he had been kicked by a donkey.

He tried to sit up, supporting himself on the floor, and when he looked up, he saw the C4 ring around Zhao Deshun's waist and the detonator in his hand.

"I--"

His voice was stuck in his throat, and his eyes were wide open like copper bells.

Then his eyes rolled back and he fainted again.

Lin Chen stood still, his hands in his pockets.

He looked at the ring of explosives around Zhao Deshun's waist with an expression no different from watching a bad comedy.

"Team Leader Zhao."

His voice was neither hurried nor slow.

"Are you getting old? Is your mind not working as well as it used to be?"