Lin Qin, accompanied by officers and university staff, headed to the warehouse.
Tucked against the sports field, the small warehouse was a treasure trove of miscellany.
The row of tables stood against the wall, still draped in their dark green velvet covers.
In the dim light, the fabric looked nearly black unless closely inspected.
The covers swathed the ordinary desks from top to bottom, transforming them into upscale display platforms.
Wearing gloves, Lin Qin gently tugged the cover’s edge.
The elasticity was poor—likely from frequent use at various events.
Noting this silently, he pushed one of the wheeled tables himself.
It was heavier than expected.
Lifting the cover, Lin Qin saw two steel bars welded horizontally beneath, holding two hefty stones.
He asked the logistics director, “These stones are…?”
The director answered eagerly, “See, we added wheels for easy moving, right? But without enough weight, a bump could knock the table askew.”
Lin Qin nodded.
Understood.
The stones added stability, keeping the tables steady.
He then scanned the warehouse thoroughly.
It was a standalone room, no internal cameras. A camera outside the main door covered the entrance.
The door was usually locked, with nearly every logistics staffer holding a key. The camera clearly captured anyone entering.
Besides the door, there was a small ventilation window opposite.
Outside the window was a surveillance blind spot, but dense black iron bars made it impassable for anyone over twelve with a normal build.
Footage from the week before the incident showed no suspicious or unexplained visitors entering via the main door.
By the time they moved the tables into the lecture hall, the sky had cleared. Bright sunlight streamed through open windows, illuminating the corridor and casting dancing dust motes on the velvet covers.
Lin Qin walked along the tables once, then again.
Closing his eyes, he imagined himself as the bomber. Phantom sounds of bustling crowds filled his ears, along with Xiao Lin and Jensen’s speeches from the adjacent hall, followed by thunderous applause.
That day, Lentzburg University was a perfect stage for crime.
Sparse surveillance, lax personnel management, and ornate bouquets ideal for concealing a bomb.
A golden opportunity.
The question was: how did the bomber plant the bomb under surveillance?
Lin Qin opened his eyes and asked a drowsy Hardy, “Where are the two students who arranged the flowers that day?”
Hardy gave a wry smile.
Though young, the students weren’t naive.
The Xiao Lin and Jensen explosion was earth-shattering—impossible to hush up.
Since it happened on their way back from the university event, the investigation would inevitably trace back to the school, and as key participants in the ceremony, they’d be questioned.
The female student immediately contacted her family.
Her parents, both legal professionals, coached them to clam up, insisting on waiting for a lawyer.
Even students knew self-preservation these days.
Their caution was wise.
While it wasn’t certain the bomb was in the bouquet, the flowers were undeniably suspicious.
As staff directly handling the bouquets, they couldn’t easily distance themselves.
If they spoke freely to the White Shield, they’d risk saying something incriminating.
Without hard evidence, they could be detained as suspects.
Currently, lacking proof, they were confined to their homes, barred from leaving.
Though scared, they weren’t guilty.
They had no motive, their actions were transparent, and they had no access to CL-30-grade explosives.
They were uninvolved, plain and simple.
Lin Qin reviewed the footage, confirming their movements were impeccable.
Hardy, eager to clear Meige District, narrated the surveillance almost incessantly. “Look, they inserted the cards randomly. No bombs in the other bouquets—how could they ensure the rigged one reached Jensen? …They’re honest students, never touched a gun, let alone a bomb. No guts, no motive, no channels…”
Lin Qin nodded, seeming to agree.
Just as Hardy started to smile, Lin Qin pointed at an upgraded bouquet on the screen, saying oddly, “This bouquet looks quite large.”
Hardy faltered.
…What a weird focus.
He forced a smile. “They were special guests, so their bouquets were fancier than the standard alumni ones.”
Hardy switched to footage outside the hall, dragging the progress bar.
Dozens of bouquets lined up, the upgraded ones near the door, followed by standard ones.
The upgraded bouquets were clearly more lavish, with extra flowers and layers of decorative gauze.
Sunflowers peeked out, nearly obscuring the wrapping paper.
Hardy looked to Lin Qin, awaiting his insight.
Lin Qin, almost to himself, asked, “How are the flowers so steady?”
Hardy nearly collapsed, baffled by Lin Qin’s quirky focus.
These questions had been asked before, so the logistics director answered smoothly. “The tables have grooves.”
Lin Qin raised an eyebrow.
He hadn’t fully inspected the tables yet.
The director explained honestly, “We host anniversaries, lectures, and events yearly. Gifts for guests include posters, trinkets, and flowers.”
Lin Qin nodded.
In this era, flowers were an elegant gift, perfect for scholars.
With natural land dwindling, a bouquet at home was a rare luxury.
If “flower-gifting” was a known Lentzburg tradition, Lin Qin, as the bomber, would exploit it.
Knowing a pattern made it easier to infiltrate.
The director continued, “One or two bouquets, no issue. But for anniversaries, we buy loads and line them up outside for decoration—it looks good in promo photos. Problem is, flowers tip over, ruining the shot. So, we carved shallow grooves in the tables to hold them steady.”
Lin Qin’s heart stirred. He pursed his lips, rewatching the footage three or four times.
He focused solely on how the two students moved the flowers.
It was just them, not a tough task.
After finishing, they took a photo and left—clean, efficient, no extra actions.
The order in which they arranged the flowers didn’t seem to have any problems either.
The premium bouquets for the honored guests were placed near the entrance in order, because some guests would leave as soon as they finished their own part of the event.
The bouquets meant for the distinguished alumni were placed farther from the entrance, to be distributed together during the grand finale of the event.
The bouquet meant for Kobayashi and Jensen was placed in the fourth slot, very close to the front entrance of the hall.
Lin Qin pulled out the program manual for the event from the messy pile of documents.
As expected, they were scheduled to give their speech during the fourth item on the agenda.
Everything seemed natural and perfectly logical.
Hardy and Bell had already become familiar with the surveillance footage after watching it repeatedly these past few days and were not very interested in keeping this young consultant company while he dug deeper.
Hardy stifled a yawn.
But before he could even finish yawning, Lin Qin suddenly spoke toward the screen: “…There.”
On the screen appeared that young female student.
She had finished writing the cards and was now holding the first bouquet, walking over to the empty table.
She lowered her head and stared at the table for a moment.
But really, it was only for a moment. She then steadily placed the bouquet—with the card inserted—into the slot on the second table, the one closest to the door.
As she turned to leave, she ran into the boy she was working with.
He was holding two large bouquets, one in each hand, unable to free either.
As they brushed past each other, the girl naturally said something to him.
Her words were short; the surveillance camera was positioned high up, so they couldn’t make out her lips clearly, but the boy didn’t show any surprise—he simply nodded and walked straight on.
Lin Qin asked, “What did they say to each other when they met?”
Hardy and Bell both rolled their eyes.
They’d noticed this exchange the very first time they watched the footage. Did Lin Qin have to watch it over and over just to catch that? Was this guy half-blind?
Bell had already asked both students’ lawyers separately what had been said during that encounter. After confirming with both sides, they’d given the same answer.
Bell repeated it: “The girl said, ‘Arrange the flowers in order.’”
It was the most ordinary kind of reminder.
Sure enough, when the boy carrying the two bouquets reached the hallway outside the conference hall, he placed his flowers into slot number three and slot number four respectively.
Seeing Lin Qin’s thoughtful expression, Hardy quickly spoke up, afraid that he’d start suspecting Lenzburg University again: “We also considered the possibility that the bomber had placed the explosive at position number four in advance, and when the flowers were set down, they touched the bomb—which would have been stuck to the bottom. CL-30 explosives are powerful; even a piece the size of a button could blow a car sky-high. But we thought about it and figured that was unlikely.”
Lin Qin asked, “Why unlikely?”
Hardy pointed at the screen. “Because the bomber couldn’t have predicted exactly how the flowers would be arranged. What if these two students put them in the wrong order by mistake? Then the wrong flower would’ve triggered the bomb, and the wrong person would’ve been killed.”
That did make sense.
They could have simply piled the guest bouquets together near the door without bothering with the order. When the staff came to pick them up, they’d just check the names on the cards and find the right bouquet without wasting any time.
With so many things to handle at such a large ceremony, the flower arrangement was a minor detail, not something anyone would bother to carefully explain.
So, in theory, how the flowers were arranged depended entirely on the whims of the two students.
If the bomber had really gambled on that, it would have been a very foolish move.
Lin Qin pondered this for a moment, then switched the surveillance footage to the live feed.
In the corridor stood a row of lonely tables. Sunlight poured onto the dark green velvet covers, revealing every fiber in detail.
Then he switched back to the footage from the day of the anniversary.
The weather that morning had been very different—not sunny like today, but gloomy and windy. The dark green velvet cloth had turned into a dull black in the shadows, but it wasn’t completely dark—light poured from the brightly lit hall inside, through the windows, making the table covers look even darker.
The tables were bare, without flowers, just as they were today—clean and spotless, nothing visible to suggest any instructions on how to arrange the flowers.
It really seemed as if the flower placement depended entirely on those two students’ random decisions.
And of the fifteen bouquets, only one contained the bomb.
That’s why Hardy and Bell had been convinced that the bomber couldn’t have tampered with the tables in advance.
Lin Qin straightened up and let out a quiet sigh. “Where are the students’ lawyers?”
…
Two phone calls later, two lawyers in suits arrived at the school’s temporary interrogation room, each accompanying their client.
Before the two students could meet, they were separated and questioned individually.
With a wall between them, both sat pale-faced, heads down like frightened quails, silent.
Bell and an officer handled the boy, while Lin Qin and Hardy sat opposite the girl.
Lin Qin’s tone was gentle: “Hello, we’ve asked you and your lawyer to come because we have a few small questions.”
The lawyer cleared his throat and spoke on the student’s behalf: “Hello. The information we can provide is limited, because my client genuinely doesn’t know much else.”
“Just small questions; it won’t take long.” Lin Qin remained calm and polite. “I just want to know how you arranged the bouquets for the guests.”
The girl whispered softly into her lawyer’s ear, her voice controlled so no one else could hear.
The lawyer gave a vague reply: “They were arranged in order.”
“What order?”
“The order of the event program.”
“Who told you to arrange them that way?”
The lawyer’s tone turned cautious: “Please watch your wording. My client was not instructed by anyone.”
Hardy frowned deeply, feeling that Lin Qin’s questioning was off.
He’d heard Lin Qin was from the lower districts—really not suited to this kind of work.
These B-class citizens weren’t like the petty crooks of the slums. They were sharp, well-connected, and could easily accuse Lin Qin of coercion.
Then he’d be the one in trouble.
But to Hardy’s surprise, Lin Qin simply leaned forward slightly, apologizing politely: “Sorry, that wasn’t the right way to ask. I just want to clarify—was there any sign or instruction on the table itself that told you to place the flowers in program order?”
Hardy: “…”
He thought this was a completely pointless question.
He wasn’t blind—there had been nothing on that table!
But after another whispered exchange between the girl and her lawyer, the lawyer’s expression suddenly became odd.
He hesitated for a moment, then said carefully: “…Yes.”
Hardy was stunned and blurted out, “Where?”
“Right there on the table. It was clearly written,” the lawyer replied. “My client also thought there was no problem with following the program order, so she did exactly that.”
Hardy was dumbfounded.
…“Clearly written”?
He hadn’t seen anything at all!
Since nothing had appeared on the surveillance footage, neither Hardy nor Bell had thought to ask this question. And the lawyer, cautious not to say more than necessary, stuck to the safe explanation of “arranging in order” without elaborating.
So both sides had fallen into a strange blind spot and wasted all this time in deadlock?
While Hardy sat there reeling, Lin Qin clasped his sweaty hands together.
…If he wasn’t mistaken, then the bomber had been under that table at the time, right under their noses, pulling off a reverse magic trick.
And if this was really what had happened—then this bomber’s daring, precision, and understanding of human psychology were truly unprecedented.
