When Du Yifan saw Shu Lanzhou, tears of relief almost turned to laughter in his eyes.
"Back when I begged you to bail me out, you refused without a second thought," he sneered, voice hollow. "Now I never expected you to show up—yet here you are. So tell me, Shu Lanzhou, what do you want?"
His disdainful look tried to mask the last shred of dignity he had left.
"I came to tell you the truth," Shu Lanzhou said bluntly. "If you know the full story, you might shave years off your sentence."
Du Yifan sat up straighter, slamming his hand on the tabletop until the cuffs rattled. "Don't scare me. President Zhang's death was an accident and isn't my fault. Why should I go to prison?"
Shu Lanzhou's voice was calm. "The forensic autopsy results will be in soon. You know perfectly well how he died, Du Yifan. Do you dare say the drug you brought in was truly harmless?"
Du Yifan's expression wavered. "How do you know about this? Have you been spying on me? What are you trying to do?"
Shu Lanzhou shook her head. "You carry nothing of value to me—I wouldn't waste resources watching you. I came only to tell you what really happened."
She didn't waste more words. "You've been at the institute for years—you know the lab's protocols. Tell me: how did you smuggle out your team's 'approved' new drug? Have you ever treated a single real patient with it?"
"Did you see a finished, licensed batch—or did you assume the vial you took was the final product?"
Even Du Yifan, in his haze of panic, recognized something was wrong. The lab was the heart of their research; keys were tightly controlled. Yet that day, the door had been left open—and only Professor Han and Xiao Anning were meant to have access. If he'd been called to validate a batch, they'd have summoned both of them, not him alone.
"Are you saying I was set up by Professor Han? That vial was intentionally dangerous?"
"How did I know?" Shu Lanzhou met his frantic gaze. "Because I suspect Han Weicheng never discovered a genuine new compound. He's been lying. To help Luo Jialin secure orders, he needed a full set of clinical‐trial data."
"And President Zhang fit his plan perfectly—if the drug worked, great; if it failed, you'd be the scapegoat. I'm simply peeling away his lies. I never promised to save you."
"If you want to save yourself, that's your business. I'm here to tell you the truth—and I hope you tell the police everything."
"If you go to prison, your family's name is ruined. I always thought you had some backbone—don't become a tool others use and discard."
As Shu Lanzhou rose to leave, Du Yifan leapt up. "Wait—if I confess, you guarantee I won't go to jail? On what grounds? Why are you being so kind?"
"I can't guarantee anything," Shu Lanzhou said over her shoulder. "Now that you know the truth, the choice is yours. This is perhaps my last act of goodwill toward you. Make it count."
With that, she walked out of the detention room. Outside, Mu Side stepped forward and took her hand. They rode back in silence.
"What's wrong?" Mu Side buckled her seatbelt, noticing her pensive frown. "Do you regret seeing him?"
She shook her head. "Not regret—just feeling like it was futile. I know them too well. I know exactly what he'll choose in the end. Yet I still felt compelled to tell him the truth."
"Was it not worth it?" Mu Side smiled gently. "Kindness is never wasted. Whether he heeds you is his own choice."
"Perhaps," she said, warming at his optimism, "if he does take your words to heart instead of bowing to Luo Jialin, it could help us too."
He pinched her cheek. "Cheer up—this isn't over yet."
Indeed it wasn't. They could both be implicated at any slip-up. Shu Lanzhou knew Han Weicheng's ruthless self-interest all too well.
That afternoon, she arranged for Nan Xi and a team of reporters to visit the hospital. By evening, the story of President Zhang's death in the operating room had broken on the 24-hour news tickers.
Luo Jialin and Han Weicheng had hoped to quietly contain the incident, then resume their secret reverse-engineering—and pocket the profits themselves. That plan was now dead.
Shu Lanzhou had anticipated that Han would try to weaponize the scandal to deflect blame onto her team—yet she never imagined he could stoop so low.
Their entire medical research group was formally reported, accused of procedural lapses in their drug's approval and of fabricating clinical-trial data!
Not only was Shu Lanzhou incredulous—everyone on the team was furious. Han must have assumed that by stirring up this broader spotlight, no one would notice the real medical accident caused by their drug.
He Xin immediately convened the project team to strategize.
Regardless of whether their protocols were airtight or their data genuine, an official investigation was now inevitable. Their fear was not the inquiry itself, but that Xiao Anning or Han Weicheng would tamper with the investigators.
Shu Lanzhou spoke up: "Actually, this could be an opportunity. We should fully disclose our research—if regulators want to inspect, let them."
"Then we livestream the audit and invite public oversight."
Some objected: "Isn't that risky? Our data are supposed to be confidential—fully open sourcing could jeopardize our future work."
Ni Sheng stood. "I agree with Shu Lanzhou. We can publish all trial data. What must remain confidential are our proprietary methods and key metrics—we can encrypt those."
"We should demand that each investigation team be independent, with no data sharing between them."
"And remember, all auditors must sign nondisclosure agreements. Professor He Xin should discuss these terms with the director and the investigation committee."
Others nodded in approval. "That's brilliant. It prevents sabotage."
Shu Lanzhou scanned the room. "Has anyone asked: Who reported us, and why?"
"That's obvious," someone snapped. "Only a competitor would be so malicious. Our findings are a leap forward for medical science—curing multiple surgical conditions. Everyone wants this drug to launch!"
She nodded. "If they insist on an investigation, then—for fairness—shouldn't we request that the neighboring project team be investigated too?"
"Exactly!" another chimed in. "How can they benefit from our mistakes while avoiding scrutiny? I'll file the report myself!"