Chapter 38: Foul's Plagiarism Show

The moment the countdown for the live broadcast hit zero, dozens of spotlights in the conference room blazed to life, illuminating every dust particle in the air, leaving nothing hidden.

Lin Bing, the host, wore a smart professional suit, microphone in hand. She struggled to maintain a professional smile, but her voice betrayed a stiffness she could not conceal.

“Good afternoon, everyone. Welcome back to the live broadcast of ‘Old Cases Revisited.’ Today, we reach the final arguments in the case of Mr. Luo Xiangdong’s death. Was it deliberate murder, or a bizarre accident? Our four contestants will give their final answers!”

The camera swept across the contestants’ table.

In the front row, Liu Hong sat, her light makeup unable to hide her pale, exhausted face. Her body leaned forward, hands gripping the hem of her clothes tightly, her eyes locked onto Chen Yu—her last, desperate hope.

“First, let us invite Pipe. After your investigation these past few days, what is your conclusion?” Lin Bing handed over the microphone.

Pipe was not fiddling with his namesake today; his demeanor suggested his vitality had been drained, his expression alarmingly wan. At the host’s question, he merely shook his head lightly. “There are too few clues. I… have no conclusion.”

The atmosphere instantly grew heavy.

Lin Bing turned to Bubble Girl, who was staring down at her tablet, the screen’s glow obscuring her expression.

“What about you, Miss Bubble Girl?”

Her fingers swiped across the tablet, then, as if surrendering all resistance, she forced a bitter smile.

“All the clues point to ‘accident.’ I can’t find any evidence of foul play. I… I agree with the direction the production team has given.”

When her voice fell, the conference room became deathly silent.

Everyone understood what that meant.

Two seasoned detectives had chosen to give up; it seemed this case would end in a mundane, anticlimactic “accident.”

Liu Hong’s body wavered, the light in her eyes swiftly dimming.

In that suffocating silence, an untimely voice sounded.

“Ahem!”

Fuller cleared his throat, the sound ringing out sharply in the stillness.

With the air of a savior, he straightened the expensive collar of his suit and stood up deliberately.

Behind him, the giant screen displayed the live barrage of comments in real time.

“It seems I must be the one to give this case a perfect ending.” Fuller’s voice was full of theatrical flourish.

He strode to the front, feeling as if he stood upon a world-class stage, basking in the adulation of the crowd.

“Through my meticulous investigation and flawless logical reasoning, I have completely restored the truth behind Mr. Luo Xiangdong’s death!”

He paused, savoring the focus of the cameras, then continued.

“The truth is—an exquisitely orchestrated accident, directed by nature itself!”

“Ladies and gentlemen, observe.” He gestured to the diagram of the villa on the screen. “On the night of the incident, a northwest wind of force five or six swept through River City. That strong wind passed through the wilds at the crime scene, aimed directly at the old iron door of the house!”

“And that door’s latch, neglected for years, had grown terribly loose and rotten! After repeated battering by the wind, the fragile latch finally gave way and fell with a crash!”

Fuller spoke with fervor, as if this astonishing discovery were the product of his painstaking effort.

He even mimicked Chen Yu’s manner from the first day, analyzing wind direction and the coincidence of the decayed door frame, embellishing the very theory Chen Yu had casually invented to escape suspicion, packaging it as his own final, well-considered deduction.

Yet, before he finished, the barrage of comments on the screen behind him exploded.

“What the hell??? Didn’t Zombie Bro say all this on the first day?”

“Exactly the same! Even the wording is similar! Is Fuller a broken record?”

“Plagiarism! Barefaced plagiarism! Copying homework in front of millions—does he have no shame?”

“Hilarious. I thought he had some insight. Turns out he’s picked up the trash Zombie Bro discarded and tried to present it as treasure?”

“Rigged! This show is totally rigged! How can a copycat like this rank fourth among detectives? Disgraceful!”

The comments surged across the screen like a tide of fury, filling it with insults and doubts.

Of course, some viewers, unaware of the truth, were fooled by Fuller’s elaborate performance, finding his analysis “reasonable” and “convincing.”

The two voices tangled together, plunging the live broadcast into a cacophony.

Yet all of it seemed irrelevant to one man.

Chen Yu.

From the start of the broadcast, he sat quietly in his chair, arms folded across his chest, his entire figure sunk in shadow.

Faced with Fuller’s clumsy performance and the uproar of the broadcast, he did not even lift his eyelids.

He was like a detached spectator, coldly watching the clown’s farce onstage.

Fuller had seen the barrage, but did not care.

To him, these foolish netizens knew nothing of true deduction.

He was more concerned with Chen Yu’s reaction.

Seeing Chen Yu’s taciturn resignation, Fuller’s smile grew more triumphant.

He was certain—Zombie Bro had, as agreed, chosen not to stir things up.

A petty character who would do anything for money and women—easy to manipulate.

In the director’s booth, Director Wang watched the monitor. His nerves finally relaxed as he raised his teacup, thoroughly satisfied with Fuller’s “cooperation.”

Yet in the audience, Liu Hong, in Chen Yu’s silence, slowly fell into despair.

The hope in her eyes turned to confusion, then disappointment, and finally to a dull, lifeless gray.

She sank back in her chair, as if all strength had left her.

Had she been wrong?

Had she really placed all her hopes on a man who chose silence at the critical moment?

Fuller finished his self-satisfied “final argument,” bowed gracefully, then slowly took his seat.

As he sat, he adopted a victor’s pose, his gaze full of challenge as he looked across at Chen Yu.

“Zombie Bro,” he said, quietly but clearly through the microphone to the entire room, “I’ve finished my argument. Do you have anything to add?”

He paused, the contempt on his face nearly overflowing.

“Or is it that you have nothing left to say?”

Swish!

Instantly, all the spotlights, all the camera lenses, all eyes in the room focused on the man who had remained silent.

The entire conference room, because of Fuller’s deadly remark, fell into a strange, eerie stillness.

Even the fevered barrage of the broadcast paused briefly.

Everyone held their breath, waiting for his response.

Would it be rage? Rebuttal? Or total surrender?

Under countless gazes, in a silence that made hearts tremble, Chen Yu finally moved.

He slowly lowered his arms from his chest.

Then, under everyone’s gaze, he stood up with deliberate calm.