Chapter 529: Soon You’ll Turn Professor

Chapter 529: Soon You’ll Turn Professor (Update 2)

Bincheng Detention Center, Interrogation Room.

A middle-aged man wearing glasses sat in the interrogation chair, his thoughts in disarray and visibly uneasy.

Yao Zhengqi, 45, a native of Penang and a visiting professor at Bincheng University…

He had spent the past decade collaborating with Bincheng University on a traditional Chinese medicine project.

He was the head of the private laboratory involved in this case.

“You know exactly what happened at your lab, don’t you?”

Xiao Yu glared coldly at him and asked.

“Officer, I’m innocent.”

Yao Zhengqi pleaded urgently, “My lab is completely secure. There’s no way something like this could happen—someone must have interfered…”

“Oh, really?”

Listening to his words, Xiao Yu scoffed, “When an avalanche hits, every snowflake claims innocence. The funny thing is, without snowflakes, there’d be no avalanche. If excuses really worked, what would the law be for?”

The lab explosion meant that, as the lab’s head, he bore an inescapable responsibility.

It wasn’t as if a clever excuse could absolve him.

The accident in the lab had claimed the lives of eight people.

Instead of addressing the problem, you started by shifting the blame.

What kind of person becomes a professor?

“But…” Yao Zhengqi tried to defend himself.

“Enough.”

Xiao Yu’s eyes turned icy as he fixed his gaze on him, “I ask—you answer. Understood?”

Sweat beaded on Yao Zhengqi’s brow before he finally nodded.

“Your lab exploded, and eight people died in the blast.”

Xiao Yu asked solemnly, “Who were they?”

“They were…”

Before Yao Zhengqi could reply, he hesitated, “Eight people? That can’t be right. If everyone was in the lab, shouldn’t it have been… nine people?”

Xiao Yu’s eyes narrowed as he retorted, “Nine people?”

“Yes, nine. They were the researchers I hired.”

Yao Zhengqi nodded, “They were all recruited from abroad, some of the nation’s top experts in traditional Chinese medicine.”

“Why hire them?” Xiao Yu asked.

“Because I was researching a traditional Chinese medicine…”

Yao Zhengqi’s face flushed with excitement, “An anti-cancer drug!”

An anti-cancer drug… Xiao Yu’s expression grew complex.

This drug, designed to combat cancer, falls into either Western or traditional Chinese medicine categories and is notoriously difficult to develop.

Yet every breakthrough in anti-cancer treatment not only brings hope to patients,

but also brings immense wealth to its developers.

For instance, an imported anti-cancer drug from overseas

can command a staggering 1.5 million per pill!

Under Xiao Yu’s relentless questioning, Yao Zhengqi recounted how he had hired the nine researchers.

Many people don’t realize that researchers’ salaries can be as high as those of professors.

Even regular researchers start at around 20,000.

A well-known or highly skilled researcher might start at 50,000.

Annual incomes in the millions – even tens of millions – aren’t unheard of.

These nine traditional Chinese medicine researchers recruited by Yao Zhengqi

received a base salary of 50,000 monthly, with the promise of a one-million bonus if the drug was successfully developed!

High compensation came with equally strict requirements.

Inside the lab, no one was allowed to bring any communication devices, electronic gadgets, or recording equipment.

Connecting to external networks was completely forbidden.

Once inside, each person was allowed to leave only three days a month!

Why such strict rules?

To maintain secrecy!

First, you must understand the tremendous value an anti-cancer drug represents.

Any leak wouldn’t just compromise the research—it would mean a huge financial loss.

Those in the field know this well.

State research facilities enforce even stricter measures.

Heavily armed guards monitor every entrance and exit.

For some researchers, this isn’t overkill—it’s just how the job is.

Some even work in complete isolation from the world!

That’s why when hiring these nine researchers,

Yao Zhengqi had them sign stringent confidentiality agreements with special clauses.

Once all nine had entered, the entire lab was locked down.

Only Yao Zhengqi could move freely in and out.

The lab remained fully sealed.

For any researcher to leave, they had to contact Yao Zhengqi using specialized communication tools.

Of course, Yao Zhengqi was also involved in the anti-cancer drug project.

He even shared living and dining quarters with the nine researchers.

Coincidentally, yesterday he received a notice from Penang University about an investment collaboration meeting.

That same day, he left the lab and never returned.

And today, the lab was the scene of an accident.

A coincidence… Xiao Yu mused.

Whether it was truly a coincidence remained uncertain.

But one thing was clear—even if Yao Zhengqi was lying, there was no proof of his innocence.

For one thing, the lab was located in the suburbs, outside the range of the Tianyan Surveillance Camera.

Inside, there were no surveillance devices at all!

Those in the know understand how these things work.

Many secret labs deliberately avoid installing any cameras.

It’s a measure to prevent any accidental leaks of research data.

Throughout Yao Zhengqi’s confession, Xiao Yu kept his eyes fixed on his face, analyzing every expression and gesture.

By carefully listening, he determined that Yao Zhengqi’s account was half-truth, half-lie.

There was a fifty-percent truth, but an equal measure of deceit.

Apart from some harmless lies.

Everyone lies under certain circumstances.

And what is the purpose of lying?

Xiao Yu remained calm, studying Yao Zhengqi as if he were watching a performance.

As has been said before,

lying doesn’t mean everything is false.

Within each lie, there can be strands of truth.

After Yao Zhengqi finished, he looked at Xiao Yu with desperate eyes.

“Are you done?”

Xiao Yu offered a wry smile, “I have one more question for you.”

“What is it?”

Yao Zhengqi’s expression turned noticeably tense.

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

Xiao Yu asked with a smile.

Yao Zhengqi: …

He fell silent, his expression betraying his inner turmoil.

He tried desperately to maintain a calm facade.

Yet even his subtle changes were laughable to Xiao Yu, who was well-versed in reading microexpressions.

Without needing an answer, he already knew the truth.

“I—I would never kill anyone.”

Yao Zhengqi stared intently at Xiao Yu, “I’m a professor and a researcher—why would I ever need to kill anyone?”

That was a blatant lie; his expression gave him away… Xiao Yu nearly smirked.

Rising, he walked toward the interrogation room’s exit, leaving one final remark.

“Professor? Soon you’ll turn into a complete buffoon!”