The crackdown on organized crime began with the arrest of the mother-in-law.

Chapter 1148 Arresting Song Qiang

This clue acted as a fuse, and Xiao Wang immediately checked the gym's parking records—Li Lu's Bentley was always parked in the underground garage at 7 pm every Wednesday, next to a black Porsche Cayenne. A search of the license plate revealed the owner to be Song Qiang, 38 years old, the founder of another high-end fitness studio and also Li Lu's personal trainer. "His fitness studio is less than 3 kilometers from Sunshine Fitness," Xiao Li said, scrolling through Song Qiang's WeChat Moments. "On the evening of May 9th, he posted a night view photo, geotagged at a viewing platform near National Highway 339, with the time showing 10:15 pm."

When they found Song Qiang, he was in the studio instructing students on deadlifts, his gray leotard accentuating his muscles like an ancient Greek sculpture. "I know Zhang Baoshan," he said, putting down the barbell, the dull thud of it hitting the ground making the mirror vibrate. "Just a colleague, not really close." Xiao Wang noticed a black sports watch on his left wrist, the strap width perfectly matching the pale marks on Zhang Baoshan's body, and a fresh scratch on the clasp.

"Where were you on the night of May 9th?" Xiao Wang's pen tapped rhythmically on the notebook, the nib hovering above the words "Observation Deck." Song Qiang's Adam's apple bobbed, sweat trickling down his chest: "I was working overtime in the studio. My students can testify. I left around 10 p.m. and drove to the observation deck to take night photos." His students confirmed that he was indeed teaching that night, but the get out of class ended at 9:10 p.m., leaving a gap of 1 hour and 5 minutes.

While checking Song Qiang's vehicle trajectory, Xiao Wang discovered a flaw in the vehicle management office's system—his Cayenne appeared on the surveillance footage of National Highway 339 at 9:30 PM on May 9th, with the front of the car facing the underpass, and only exiting from the opposite direction at 10:40 PM. This time was enough for him to travel back and forth to the underpass twice. "The viewing platform is on the east side of the national highway," Xiao Li pointed to the map, "You don't need to go through the underpass to get to the viewing platform from the studio. He took a 20-kilometer detour, which doesn't make sense."

A more crucial clue came from Song Qiang's online shopping records. The technical department restored his deleted orders, which showed that he had purchased a roll of dark blue industrial binding rope on May 7th. The model was exactly the same as the fibers found at the scene, and the delivery address was his workshop's warehouse. "This rope can bear a weight of 500 kilograms," Xiao Wang said, holding up a fiber sample from the evidence bag. "It belongs to the same batch as the restraint straps found at the culvert entrance, with only a three-digit difference in production batch number."

During interviews with Song Qiang's neighbors, a photographer living across the hall provided crucial information: "Around 1 a.m. on May 10th, I heard Song Qiang washing his car in the garage, the sound of water running until 2 a.m.," he said, pointing to his camera. "The telephoto lens captured him rinsing the trunk and throwing a black cloth inside, which looked like a tracksuit." Zhang Baoshan was wearing a dark blue tracksuit when he disappeared, the material of which matched the fiber composition of that black cloth.

Song Qiang's physical condition also matched the profile of the killer. He was a member of the provincial weightlifting team and founded a fitness studio after retiring. His squat weight reached 220 kilograms, far exceeding that of ordinary people. "Although Zhang Baoshan was strong, Song Qiang had even greater explosive power," said Zhang Lin, the forensic doctor, watching Song Qiang's training videos. "This difference in strength was enough to give him an advantage in a head-on confrontation, and he was familiar with the vulnerable parts of the human body, knowing that striking the head could quickly subdue an enemy."

In Song Qiang's workshop warehouse, technicians found a pair of size 42 rubber-soled sneakers. The tread pattern of the soles matched the shoe prints at the scene by 85%, and the mud on the edges of the shoes was consistent with the silt at the bottom of the culvert. "There is a 0.3 cm wear on the heel," Xiao Li said, holding the comparison report, "which is exactly the characteristic wear of the shoe prints at the scene. This is a unique mark formed by long-term training on cement ground."

When Xiao Wang found Li Lu with these clues, her defenses finally crumbled. "I had affairs with both Song Qiang and Zhang Baoshan," she said, her voice trembling with tears, her delicate makeup ruined by the tears. "After Song Qiang found out I gave money to Zhang Baoshan, he threatened to ruin him. On May 8th, I even argued with Zhang Baoshan on the phone, saying, 'Don't even think about taking anything from me.'" The call log showed that the argument lasted 18 minutes, ending with Song Qiang's angry shout.

The investigation went on late into the night, and Xiao Wang's notebook was filled with evidence pointing to Song Qiang: gaps in time, unusual vehicle trajectories, the same type of binding rope, matching shoe prints, physical advantage, threatening remarks... Each piece was like a puzzle piece, gradually piecing together the complete picture. But he knew he still needed one last piece of evidence—finding the clothes Song Qiang wore when he committed the crime, or that blunt weapon that might be stained with blood.

“Apply for a search warrant,” Xiao Wang said, closing his notebook. The moonlight from the window shone on the name “Song Qiang.” “Focus on searching his garage and studio warehouse, especially hidden corners.” He suddenly remembered the photographer’s testimony: the discarded black cloth was likely the clothing worn during the crime, and it might still be hidden in a trash can or a river.

Li Ming's voice came through the walkie-talkie: "Stay calm, don't alert them." The static mingled with the distant sirens, like an accompaniment to the truth about to be revealed. Xiao Wang gazed in the direction of Song Qiang's studio; the lights were still on, and the shadows of the exercise equipment swayed on the curtains like a giant question mark, waiting to be solved.

The red stamp on the arrest warrant gleamed under the incandescent light. When Xiao Wang led his team to Song Qiang's gym, dusk was creeping up the floor-to-ceiling windows. The sound of barbells clashing in the training area shook the ground. Song Qiang was standing in front of the Smith machine instructing his students. His gray bodysuit was soaked with sweat, and the contours of his muscles resembled rocks washed by rain, each line so clear that one could almost count the direction of the muscle fibers.

"Song Qiang, come with us." Xiao Wang's voice cut through the noise of the equipment clashing. Two officers had already blocked the fire exit. Song Qiang's hand holding the barbell paused. The weight plates screeched against the rails. When he turned around, a training smile still lingered on his lips, but the light in his eyes dimmed instantly, like a cigarette butt suddenly extinguished. "What is it?" His thumb rubbed against the barbell, leaving a white mark on the metal surface from the anti-slip powder. "My students are still in class."

Xiao Wang flashed the arrest warrant; the jagged edges of the paper resembled sharp teeth under the light. "The murder that occurred on the night of May 9th in the 339 National Highway underpass—you are suspected of intentional homicide." His gaze swept over the black sports watch on Song Qiang's wrist; the scratches on the clasp were particularly conspicuous in the light—eerily echoing the restraint marks on Zhang Baoshan's body. Song Qiang suddenly chuckled, released the barbell, and walked towards the locker room: "I'll cooperate, but I need to change my clothes." He paused at the locker room door, his right hand stealthily reaching for the dumbbells behind the door, when Xiao Wang sternly stopped him: "Don't move!"