Chapter 134: Mastery of Poison Detection

I ignored the provocation from Forensic Wu. Seeing that I had no intention of responding, he stormed over and shouted, "Hey! I'm talking to you! Cat got your tongue? What poison did you detect?"

I replied coldly, "If I tell you and you just repeat it, how would anyone know it wasn't your result?"

Wu laughed so loudly it hurt my ears. "You think I'd copy you? I'm a professional forensic expert! How about this—let's each write our findings on our palms and reveal them at the same time. Let's see who's right."

"Fine," I nodded. "But if you're wrong, you owe me a public apology."

"No problem!" he sneered. "I'll even kneel if I'm wrong!"

"You said it yourself," I reminded him.

Wu didn't seem the least bit concerned. He was clearly confident in his test results. "What if you're wrong?" he asked.

"I'll kneel and kowtow three times in front of everyone," I said without hesitation.

Wu waved his arm theatrically. "Everyone heard that, right? I, Wu Yue, am doing this for the sake of modern forensics—to prove that ancient corpse examiners were nothing but pseudo-scientists!"

Captain Xing whispered a warning, "Forensic Wu…"

But Wu completely ignored him. His temper was hot, but he wasn't as sinister as that snake Qin. Still, calling ancient methods pseudoscience really rubbed me the wrong way.

"Modern forensics is impressive," I replied. "But that doesn't mean you represent it."

The crowd chuckled quietly. Wu's face turned red. "I've been in this field for twenty years and hold dual PhDs! And you think I don't qualify? What do you have? Show me a license that says you're qualified to represent ancient forensics!"

"I don't have a license," I said calmly. "Just solved five or six murder cases, that's all."

Wu's face turned even redder. He probably knew I had cracked seven cases in under six months—with a 100% solve rate. Not even the top forensic experts at provincial level could boast that kind of record.

"Fine," he snapped. "Let's get on with it. Xiao Li, bring me a marker."

We each took a marker and wrote the names of the substances on our palms. My friend Wang Dali leaned over and muttered, "Song Yang, this might be pushing it. He used lab equipment, and you just poked around a corpse—how can you beat that?"

I shot him a look. "Watch your words. Poking around? Relax. He's wrong. I guarantee it."

Wang Dali was still uneasy, but I had known from the start that Wu went to test the pills. That already told me his whole direction was off. Because everyone trusts machines blindly, he assumed the instrument was right and that he had nailed it.

When we finished writing, Wu turned his hand to show the words papaverine alkaloid.

"The victim died from an overdose of papaverine. Cause of death: these pills!" he declared, pulling out a blister pack.

The rich kid in question panicked. "That's impossible! I took the same pills!"

Captain Xing's expression changed. "You're doing drugs too?"

"N-no! It's not like that! They're aphrodisiacs from Korea… I don't really know what's in them," the young man stammered.

Wu shook the pack. "How many pills did you each take?"

"I took one. Xiao Wen took two."

I snorted. Completely wrong.

Wu continued, "There you have it. Overdose from a papaverine-containing aphrodisiac caused cardiac failure. Case closed. Song Yang, anything else to say?"

I asked calmly, "Just one question—what's the lethal dose of papaverine? Why did one person die and the other didn't?"

Wu began to respond, but then paused. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He realized it himself: even if those pills were 100% pure papaverine, two pills wouldn't contain enough to kill. Historically, people had to ingest large amounts of opium to commit suicide—at least 60 grams.

Yes, papaverine can enhance male performance, and yes, it's a common ingredient in some shady foods. Even Coca-Cola supposedly contains trace amounts of similar substances—but only three people in the world know its full recipe.

Wu had detected papaverine and thought he found the smoking gun. But he never stopped to question it.

Captain Xing frowned. "Forensic Wu? You… made a mistake?"

"I… I might've been mistaken," Wu finally admitted. Then he jabbed a finger at me. "But there's no way he got it right. He didn't even use a machine!"

I opened my palm. "The actual toxin is sodium nitrite. It's a common, water-soluble compound. The lethal dose is about three grams. It's often mistaken for table salt because it looks and tastes similar. Numerous poisoning cases have occurred because of that. It's also used as a cardiovascular medication, easily accessible from hospitals."

Everyone froze. Wu barked a laugh. "And how did you figure that out—by tasting the body?"

I replied coolly, "Sodium nitrite poisoning turns the victim's blood dark brown. Lips and nails show purplish spots. There's usually trace amounts of urine leakage. Check the body yourself—or better yet, run your precious instruments again."

Wu's face went pale. He definitely noticed those symptoms. But it's easy to miss the forest for the trees when you're in the middle of it.

Toxicology isn't as simple as drawing blood and running a quick scan. The human body is filled with chemicals, and decomposition adds even more. It's a methodical, painstaking process. Wu's biggest flaw wasn't his skill—it was his arrogance. He might be a competent pathologist, but when it comes to poisons, he was outmatched.

Captain Xing asked, "So how was the poison administered?"

I said one word: "Condom."

"What?" everyone exclaimed.

I explained, "The killer applied the poison to the outside of the condom. It was discreetly placed in the hotel room. During intercourse, the poison entered her system and triggered cardiac arrest."

Captain Xing looked over at the cabinet. "But there are three boxes of condoms here. How did the killer know which one he'd use? Did he poison all three?"

I turned to the rich kid. "Why did you choose that particular box?"

He looked stunned, then slowly replied, "One box was torn. Another looked dirty. I just… grabbed the clean one without thinking."

There it was. The killer deliberately damaged the other boxes to subconsciously guide the victim toward the poisoned one.

Captain Xing narrowed his eyes. "So the killer meant to frame this guy. But what if he brought his own condoms? Wouldn't that ruin the plan?"

I threw the question back at the rich kid. "Did you plan on getting a room today?"

He shook his head. "No. Xiao Wen called out of nowhere and said she was in the mood. She had already booked the room. I rushed over. I even thought it was weird—why this cheap motel? We ordered takeout, ate, and then… everything happened so fast."

A theory formed in my mind. Maybe Xiao Wen originally planned to meet someone else. When that didn't work out, she called this guy as a backup.

"Was Xiao Wen your girlfriend?" I asked.

"Not exactly," he said awkwardly.

"What do you mean?"

"We were… casual. I wasn't her only guy, and she wasn't my only girl."

I nodded. "Friends with benefits, huh?"