Chapter 760: Catching Thieves

People taking care of themselves, raising their parents and children, and abiding by laws and regulations are already practicing charity for society—not merely donating money to the poorer. Saving others begins with saving oneself—that is the principle.

Ordinary people find it hard enough to care for themselves and have no spare strength to help others; just not causing trouble for others is already good enough. But when conditions allow, it becomes a matter of conscience.

Clearly, Wang Yan has the means and the conscience. He is the old Wang who inherited the legacy of Wei Wu, and more importantly, he is Comrade Wang, drenched in crimson. Though he may falter in minor details, his great virtue has never been stained.

Whether in the real world or the cinematic world, he has always held fast to certain principles…

"Director Liu, then it's settled. Tomorrow I'll have Yang Meifang bring her daughter over—please have your staff at the Fuli Academy take care of her."

At the Bali River Fuli Academy, Wang Yan smiled and said this to Director Liu.

Director Liu was a woman in her fifties; perhaps because she spent her days with children, she looked gentle and exuded kindness.

She nodded repeatedly: "Don't worry, Xiao Wang. You've done so much for us—we'll handle this small matter properly. Come by anytime to check."

Wang Yan nodded with a smile and said, "There's one more thing, Director Liu. Let's keep my donation quiet. I'm a public official; though the finance department has already reviewed it, the public doesn't know, and misunderstandings could arise. Today's donation of one million is my maximum capacity. But if word gets out and netizens start clamoring online, pressuring me to donate two or five million, I won't be able to explain myself. Let's keep it quiet—don't let a good deed turn bad."

"I can guarantee that. Only I and the finance officer at the Fuli Academy know the details—we won't say a word."

"Good. No need to see me off, Director. We'll come again another day. After all, the Fuli Academy is within our jurisdiction—we should regularly check in on safety matters."

Though he said no need to see him off, Director Liu still warmly saw Wang Yan and the others off to the car, waving until they were out of sight—this was respect for a kind-hearted benefactor. One million isn't much if you want to accomplish something, but for a modest institution like this, it makes a huge difference.

In the car, Zhao Jiwei leaned forward from the backseat, poking his head through the gap between the front seats: "Brother Yan, aren't you going to call Yang Meifang and notify her?"

"We can tell her tomorrow. Let her worry for a day. Even though I'm genuinely helping her, I won't let her think it's that easy."

"Hey, that's true," said Zhang Zhijie, comfortably enjoying the air conditioning in the front passenger seat. "Jiwei, remember: never be a doormat. Moral blackmail is too strong. Often, when we help, we end up blamed anyway. These days, being good is hard—it comes at a cost. Especially as police officers, we see too many human tragedies—we can't possibly help everyone. We're just ordinary people too. Even though we're police, we still have to think about ourselves sometimes. Save yourself first, then save others."

"I want to help others, but I don't have Brother Yan's money—that's one million, just donated to the Fuli Academy," Zhao Jiwei sighed, marveling at the gap between people—it was greater than the gap between humans and dogs.

"That mindset of yours—what are we? Frontline law enforcement officers. The power in your hands, if you show even slight bias in handling cases, changes the fate of those involved. But that slight bias can bring you endless trouble. You'll be on patrol soon—stay alert at all times. Otherwise, you won't survive the complaints."

Zhao Jiwei replied in agreement and sat properly to listen.

Wang Yan smiled: "Brother Zhang, Jiwei—you've got to keep my donation secret. Don't spread it around."

Having grown familiar, Zhang Zhijie no longer called them "Officer Zhao" or "Officer Wang," just "brothers." At first, everyone was formal, but now it was natural.

Zhang Zhijie said: "Others aside, our chief and political instructor must know—this is too big to hide. In work, life, ideology, finances—our chief and instructor must be informed, no matter how busy. The organization recognizes no private secrets. You must understand this."

"I know. The finance department already investigated me during the political review—the records are all there. But just like I told Director Liu, this kind of thing shouldn't be publicized—it invites trouble. Staying low-key lasts longer; being flashy invites disaster."

"Now that you understand this, I'm relieved. It's rare for a kid your age—only in his twenties—to grasp these truths."

"Heh, with no parents, you've got to think twice about everything. Lucky my folks raised me well—if not, the compensation money from the demolition would've been squandered years ago."

"You've got heart—but what's wrong?" Zhang Zhijie was about to speak when Wang Yan suddenly slammed on the brakes.

"Look over there."

It was afternoon, the sun at its peak. They weren't on a main road, but a regular two-lane street, so there weren't many people around.

Zhang Zhijie and Zhao Jiwei followed Wang Yan's gaze and saw two young men, dressed sloppily, sitting casually on two parked electric scooters, each holding a cigarette, about to light up.

"They noticed our car slowing down and stopped what they were doing. I saw clearly—the kid in the purple T-shirt kicked open the scooter's lock. Right in broad daylight, brazen as hell. Brother Zhang, should we arrest them? My car has a dashcam—I recorded their whole action."

"Of course we arrest them," Zhao Jiwei blurted out. "They're committing crimes right in front of us—do we just let them go?"

"Your braking has scared them off—we can't tail them. Arrest them," Zhang Zhijie instructed. "But be careful. These guys might be armed with knives. Don't force it if it's dangerous—your safety comes first. And make sure your bodycams are on. Non-negotiable."

All three pulled out their bodycams, clipped them to their chests, pressed the buttons for a few seconds until the indicator lights flashed. Zhang Zhijie, still uneasy, added: "Stay safe above all—especially you, Wang Yan. No matter how tough you are, don't be reckless. Catching them isn't critical—there'll be other chances. We've got their faces on camera; we can enhance the image and run facial recognition later—they won't escape. Jiwei, you're not as strong as Wang Yan—don't be a hero. Let me and you handle one each, and Wang Yan takes the other. I'm saying this again: safety first. No heroics."

"Got it."

As Wang Yan and Zhao Jiwei responded, the car pulled over. Since the windows were tinted, the two thieves didn't suspect anything when the Golf slowed and pulled to the curb. In fact, they were even chatting about the car.

Most young people still dream of owning a car. The Golf, a legendary model, is popular among youth—everyone can talk about its specs. Though they all claim BBA means nothing, no one denies that in a second-tier city like Ping'an, a brand-new car priced at over 200,000 yuan is beyond most people's reach.

Sure, many could afford it with a loan and grit—but realistically, not many actually do.

The two thieves, cigarettes dangling, were casually commenting, even arguing over opinions, until they saw the car door open and three police officers in blue uniforms step out…

"Shit…"

"Run!"

They froze for a second, dropped their cigarettes, and bolted.

Wang Yan shot forward first, then Zhao Jiwei, but by the time Zhao Jiwei started running, Wang Yan was already ten meters ahead. Finally, Zhang Zhijie, reluctantly, sprinted after them, sighing at how young people's bodies were built—he had to keep watch. If anything happened, it'd be disastrous. Their youth had just begun—if something went wrong, he'd never forgive himself.

But unlike his fears, the two thieves were still wearing slippers. When Wang Yan truly ran, even for a brief minute, not even a dog could keep up.

They never even reached the stage of pulling knives or struggling—Wang Yan grabbed each by the back of the neck in one hand, pinning them instantly. The two thieves hissed in pain, too terrified to struggle—the more they moved, the more it hurt.

"Brother Yan, you're insane," Zhao Jiwei gave a thumbs-up. The veteran cops in the station always said Wang Yan was tough and in great shape, but no one had actually seen it—they'd doubted it. Now, seeing it firsthand, Zhao Jiwei could only write "impressed" in giant letters. Rich, strong, knowledgeable, skilled—it's just not fair…

"The rumors were true. Holy shit—he just shot off like a rocket. I didn't even react."

Zhang Zhijie was already gasping after only a few steps. In truth, among the countless frontline officers, this was normal. Irregular eating, irregular sleep—just those two things turned even the most muscular young men with six-pack abs into potbellied men within two or three years.

Catching his breath, Zhang Zhijie ordered Zhao Jiwei: "Search them. Check for weapons. Take their phones."

Under Wang Yan's firm grip on both thieves, Zhang Zhijie and Zhao Jiwei began searching them. As expected, each had a dagger and a phone—both the latest model, the Aipao X, released last autumn.

"Cuff him." After the search, Zhang Zhijie gave the order.

Hearing "cuff," one of them protested: "Hey, officers, what did we do to deserve this?"

"Don't listen to their nonsense. Do it," Zhang Zhijie told Zhao Jiwei. Wang Yan had already pulled handcuffs from his waist, clicked them on twice, and secured both wrists—quick and clean. Zhao Jiwei, hearing the order, didn't hesitate—he snapped the second cuff onto the other wrist.

"We didn't do anything! We were just sitting here smoking. Really, officers, we're innocent!"

"Then why did you run? The whole theft was recorded—it's on camera. Can't you see? Point to the scooter. Let's take a photo of the scene."

The thieves were just reflexively denying it—they knew to check for cameras when stealing scooters. With so many crime dramas, they knew the basics: avoid cameras, wipe fingerprints, erase footprints, dispose of tools. After all, that's how crimes are solved on TV.

They were petty thieves, fast and careful—deliberately avoiding showing their faces. But today, bad luck—they ran into police. Otherwise, they'd have finished in ten seconds, pushed the scooter away, and lit another cigarette.

They marched the two back to where the car had stopped, paused in front of a brand-new blue step-through electric scooter, took a photo—the lock had been kicked open, the power cable cut, clean and efficient.

Zhang Zhijie and Zhao Jiwei stayed behind to watch the prisoners while Wang Yan went to a nearby shop to check the surveillance.

The two worked in perfect sync—quick and decisive. One slipped his hand under the seat, pried something loose, then slashed the connection wire with his dagger—so the alarm wouldn't trigger. The other sat on the seat, kicked out hard with his leg, smashing the lock. Just as they were about to push off, the black Golf slowed down in the footage—they immediately acted like nothing had happened, lighting their cigarettes.

After copying the surveillance video, Wang Yan returned to the car, glanced at the backseat—Zhao Jiwei sat in the middle, one arm hooked around each thief. The two thieves, though silent, were still curiously inspecting the car's interior, trying to understand what people meant by "tight rear space."

After copying the surveillance footage, Wang Yan walked back and sat in the car. He glanced at the back seat—Zhao Jiwei sat in the middle, with his arms linked through those of the two little thieves on either side. Looking at the two little thieves again, although they behaved and said nothing, they were still quite thoughtfully taking in the car's interior, experiencing firsthand just how cramped the so-called rear legroom people talked about really was.

"Alright, you two got some spare time? You moved fast—under twenty seconds, done and dusted. You're repeat offenders, aren't you? Been in before?"

"Arrested a few times, nothing serious," one of them replied with a smirk.

"Obviously. Shut your mouth now—don't speak unless told to." Wang Yan's face changed like a dog's.

Seeing Wang Yan look at him, Zhang Zhijie nodded: "Let's go. I left a note on that electric bike—it'll probably reach our station tonight."

Wang Yan replied and drove back to the station.

He drove straight into the courtyard again—Wang Shouyi was smoking with two officers in the back garden, stealing a moment's rest.

It had been over a day since arriving at the station, and Wang Yan had only gone to the front office once this morning. Honestly, it was busy—lots of people coming in for all kinds of matters…

Watching Zhang Zhijie scold and usher the suspects out of the car, Wang Shouyi quickly stubbed out his cigarette and came over: "What's going on? Didn't you go to handle the diaper theft? Why are you bringing back two people?"

"These two were stealing electric bikes by the roadside—we caught them red-handed on our way back and brought them in. Wang Yan, take them down with Jiwei and find an empty room for their statements. Chief, I need to speak with you."

Zhang Zhijie gave a quick instruction, then pulled Wang Shouyi upstairs to the chief's office.

"It's definitely about you," Zhao Jiwei declared with supreme confidence, as if he could predict the future.

Wang Yan chuckled and shook his head: "Alright, take them down. This is an official case now."

Together with Zhao Jiwei, he escorted the suspects inside. He didn't see Li Dawei or the others—probably out on calls with the veteran officers. Compared to them, Wang Yan and Zhao Jiwei were relatively relaxed. In a jurisdiction of 120,000 people, problems never ran out.

"If you have trouble, find a policeman"—it wasn't just an empty slogan. Even lost cats and dogs had to be reported. Then there were all kinds of disputes—some mediated, some filed. Mediation wore out your spit; once a case was filed and procedures began, it was endless work—arrests meant running back and forth to the prosecutor's office, charges required constant verification of documents, no time to rest.

They found an interrogation room, cuffed the suspects inside to wait. Wang Yan and Zhao Jiwei brought the other suspect into the interview room—the kind shown on TV, with a large chair and a small table. Interrogations had rules: audio and video recording mandatory, physical force absolutely forbidden. Even if you didn't hit them, raising your voice too much could become an issue—police work wasn't easy.

"Can you type fast?" Wang Yan asked, looking at Zhao Jiwei, who stood there awkwardly while he turned on the audio and video equipment.

"Not fast," Zhao Jiwei shook his head, then added, "You ask and record yourself. I'll just listen."

He knew he wasn't as skilled as Wang Yan, so he decided to observe how an outstanding peer operated.

Wang Yan nodded, sat at the computer, found the obvious statement template on the desktop, copied and pasted two copies, renamed them "Dingxiang Street Electric Bike Theft," then opened one and smiled: "Name?"

"Kong Tian."

Interrogation required technique—people always shifted blame to minimize their own liability. Skilled interrogators used nine truths and one lie; unskilled ones used nothing but lies, depending on the suspect's psychological resilience, education level, and case severity. No one sat in that chair intending to tell the truth.

After simple questioning, the situation became clear. Kong Tian was twenty-one; he and another man, Ma Kunlong, had met five years ago in a net cafe in Pingyuan County. Ma Kunlong was twenty-two, once a notorious figure in high school, dropped out early, and became a delinquent hanging around campus.

The two had worked together in a factory in Ping'an City, but the assembly line couldn't contain the ambition of young men with tattoos of great phoenixes spreading wings and Bodhi eyes open. So Ma Kunlong proposed they start stealing electric bikes in the city. That Ma Kunlong—the one who argued loudly and bragged shamelessly on the stolen bike—was the one caught.

There were also family backgrounds, girlfriends, and such. What could you expect from rural delinquents? Most had parents working away, raised by grandparents since childhood. These two were exactly like that: Kong Tian's grandparents had passed, his parents divorced and remarried, leaving him alone to fend for himself. Ma Kunlong's mother had abandoned him early; his father drank heavily and gambled, ignoring everything, with no elders left above him. They were a pair of kindred spirits, bound by shared hardship.

But if you looked closely, Ma Kunlong had fallen—he was no longer the boss who commanded a gang of underlings. Now he had only Kong Tian left to command; without him, no one would follow. He cherished this last subordinate, his top horse.

Still, the street-smart type remained attractive—both thieves had girlfriends, and they changed them frequently. Zhao Jiwei, listening, began doubting life itself. He was a proper graduate of police academy, a sworn officer—even during school, with part-time work and poverty aid, his income wasn't much less than what these two made stealing bikes. Yet he hadn't even thought about dating. These two kept switching girlfriends so fast?

Wang Yan saw right through Zhao Jiwei's thoughts but said nothing. The small talk was over; now came the real questions. For theft and robbery, many were repeat offenders—they'd tasted the sweetness of effortless gain and kept thinking, "One more time won't hurt." Over time, they became habitual thieves—even addicted. If they had the chance, they'd steal something just to relieve the itch.

On the other hand, the fencing locations were critical. Everything had a chain: steal here, sell there, distribute, then steal again—a cycle. He wanted to dig deeper, to dismantle everything these two knew.

"I watched your method of stealing electric bikes on surveillance. This isn't one or two bikes—it's a pattern. You've known each other five years. When did you start stealing electric bikes?"

Kong Tian thought, then said: "We started back in school—stole batteries then, got caught and reprimanded. But that was all before eighteen. When I dropped out too, our classmates went to college or got jobs—we came here together. We worked six months straight in a clothing factory, then the team leader bullied us too much, so we beat him up. We spent half a month in the detention center, then took odd jobs—didn't steal many electric bikes."

Wang Yan had been pleasantly surprised—the kid answered everything. Then came "odd jobs," and he really hadn't stolen many electric bikes.

He shook his head: "Kong Tian, you probably don't understand investigation procedures or techniques. Just because you deny something doesn't mean it didn't happen. Here are your phones—even if you won't give me the password, I can unlock them. Then I'll check your chat logs, bank statements, WeChat, and Zhifubao transaction records."

You know the difference between receiving and paying. You know your payments far exceed your receipts. So we just trace your receipts one by one—we'll find exactly what you've done.

I'm asking you now to give you a chance to show cooperation. Do you think your "Dragon Brother" will stay silent like you? If he pins everything on you, turns around and calls you the boss, says all the ideas were yours—you'll have nowhere to cry. Five years—you don't know what kind of man your Dragon Brother is?"

Come on, speak up. What have you done these past years that wasn't punished? When? Where? Where did you fence the goods? The clearer you are, the better your cooperation looks. It's all shown on TV—none of it's fake.

If you provide valuable leads, or help us catch key figures—say, someone using or trafficking drugs, or running a brothel, or even someone who committed a major crime and escaped justice—you might even get a reward."

"Really?"

"Look, I'm only twenty-two too. I'm a cop, you're a thief—but I won't lie to you. Speak up. Be open. But first, tell me everything about you two. Then you can talk about what you heard from others."

Kong Tian nodded. He hadn't realized how serious this was. If he spoke, the total value of all those crimes would meet the threshold for prosecution—he'd likely spend three years in prison. But if he didn't speak, he couldn't hold out long. The prisoner's dilemma was here—refusing cooperation wouldn't last.

"I don't remember everything. After we beat up the team leader and got out of detention, we started stealing batteries."

As Kong Tian spoke, Wang Yan typed furiously—Kong Tian's three-year sentence was now sealed.

After leaving detention, these two started stealing batteries, then whole bikes, even bags and phones. But according to him, they never robbed anyone—though without catching them red-handed or finding victims, there was no proof. He said they didn't, so they didn't.

He named several fencing spots, but it was useless. Still, you had to catch them red-handed—if shop owners denied everything and claimed ignorance, police couldn't act. But now that the locations were known, they could monitor who came to sell electric bikes.

The workload wasn't heavy—just check surveillance periodically, look for sellers, especially those with identifiable traits, screenshot and enhance facial recognition, then follow them.

With this method, they'd catch more thieves, identify more fencing merchants. Give Wang Yan time, and he could wipe out all thieves in Ping'an City.

Not because Wang Mou was especially capable and the station useless—it was because manpower was insufficient. Often, they simply couldn't spare attention. After all, an electric bike cost only a couple thousand yuan; phones were pricier, but harder to trace. You could only file a case and keep the device's ID.

If you assigned people specifically to catch thieves—investigating, interviewing, collecting evidence, monitoring—it all took significant time. There was no energy to spare.

That's why the municipal and provincial bureaus periodically launched crackdowns—when accumulated cases piled up, public complaints grew loud, they'd hit hard. Truly cleansing sweeps—after one round, peace lasted a long time. But eventually, petty thieves would reappear, slowly eroding social order again.

But Wang Yan was different—he could investigate clearly and thoroughly by himself, and he controlled the technology.

Like image enhancement—district, municipal, provincial, and ministry-level agencies all had technical departments, all with personnel handling these investigative tools: trace detection, fingerprint matching, DNA analysis, and more. Their technical skill varied, but they weren't idle either—subordinate stations constantly requested support, and criminal investigation teams got priority. They were just as exhausted as dogs.

But for him? He'd take a spare moment, process any image perfectly. Take another spare moment, follow someone for a few hours—no major disruption. Little by little, this slow, steady work solved big problems.

And his efficiency meant this slow work didn't require much time.

After finishing the serious questions, Kong Tian listed every other thief he knew—letting loose, spilling everything he knew, didn't know, or had heard. Wang Yan typed it all into the statement.

Where a city's evil lay, and how deep it ran—only police and criminals knew, because they were both participants. In this area, hearsay still had value. Even with no evidence, even if it was pure gossip—write it down. Who knows when those places or people might appear in police sight, instantly triggering a lock-on.

Only when Wang Yan printed a thick stack of statements and placed them on Kong Tian's table for him to verify, sign, and fingerprint did Zhang Zhijie, who had been listening inside for hours, smile and say: "Alright, Wang Yan, I'll handle the other suspect with Jiwei. The chief and instructor are waiting for you—hurry up."

"Got it." Wang Yan replied, walked out of the interview room cleanly, left the basement, and went upstairs to the chief's office.

The office door wasn't closed—Wang Shouyi sat talking with the instructor. Seeing Wang Yan enter, his wrinkled face broke into a wide smile: "Wang Yan! Come in, come in, sit down, sit down. Ah, you just interrogated the suspect, right? How'd it go? Any trouble? These suspects nowadays are all cunning—interrogation requires skill and method."

"Yes, Chief is right," Wang Yan nodded to both, walked in, and sat on the sofa. "But this guy's young—still one year younger than me. Not too guarded. I got everything I needed. He's looking at three years, no doubt."

"Excellent, excellent! You've cracked your first case so quickly. No wonder you're an outstanding graduate of the police academy. I owe Song a big thank-you for getting you assigned to our station."

Wang Shouyi's expression didn't change, but he turned to the real topic: "By the way, Zhijie already told me about today's incident. It's good you care about the people and genuinely help them solve problems. And you donated a million to Fuli Academy—that's a great act of kindness. Also, I heard Zhijie say you specifically asked not to publicize it—humble, not arrogant. Good, good."

Instructor Ye Wei also said: "You did well—donating so much money is something we've only seen online. But Wang Yan, I need to remind you: always act within your means. Zhijie already told you—we police officers see too many people in hardship; we can't help them all."

Wang Yan smiled and nodded: "Yes, Instructor, you're right. I didn't make this decision rashly—I'd already planned to donate, but I just hadn't decided where. Today, Brother Zhang took us out on a visit and gave us a general overview of our jurisdiction's situation. There happened to be a Fuli Academy. I thought, these kids all have it hard, so I might as well donate some money."

Although I'm a firm materialist, the money came too easily, and it made me uneasy. When I was young, I didn't have this awareness. Now that I serve the people, this consciousness has suddenly risen. If I have the capacity, I'll lend a hand. And it also solves Yang Meifang's problem—her son is truly good, precocious to an extreme; he can't afford to fall behind in school."

Sending a six-month-old girl to the Fuli Academy for care poses no issue. Even if this were blown up online, it would still withstand scrutiny. The Fuli Academy receives government funding; Yang Meifang pays two thousand yuan monthly, which is sufficient for the child's expenses—she doesn't take advantage of the state. The academy staff simply take care of the child as an added duty."

On the other hand, Yang Meifang truly deserves sympathy. She lost her parents, has no other relatives, cares for a five-year-old son, a six-month-old daughter, and a younger brother in university. She works hard pushing a cart selling Jianbing Guozi, stubbornly surviving. Her husband? Not a good man—he abandoned his wife and children to live with someone else."

If this story spreads, people will only condemn Yang Meifang's husband, the children's father—spittle could drown him and that woman he's with. As for the Fuli Academy, they might even be praised for their kindness. After all, a child with proper guardianship would never end up at a welfare institution."

There might also be some moral blackmail—'Why isn't the Fuli Academy more charitable?'—they'd be viciously criticized too, but those are idiotic voices, not worth mentioning."

From the normal perspective of normal parents, even if the Fuli Academy offered this service, anyone with options or someone to care for the child wouldn't pay to send them there. It sounds bad, and no parent wants to give up their child—they'll grit their teeth and endure to care for them."

As for abnormal parents, from their abnormal perspective, two thousand yuan is an insurmountable barrier. Not only are most such people poor, but even if they weren't, they still wouldn't pay it…"

Wang Shouyi hummed in agreement and said: "Your heart is good, but Instructor Ye is right—you must act within your means. If it's convenient, tell us: how much money do you actually have? We need to know the scale. Otherwise, if you keep doing this, this old man's bones can't take it—I can't even sleep. And if someone later tries to exploit this, we need to be prepared."

Saying this, he and Instructor Ye stared intently at Wang Yan—both concerned, and unable to suppress their curiosity. In a year's work, they'd interacted with more strangers than most people meet in a lifetime; they'd certainly seen rich newcomers."

But this rich newcomer was right beside them—his own subordinate—that felt entirely different."

Seeing them stare at him, Wang Yan chuckled and shook his head, lowering his gaze to think for a moment…"

"It's inconvenient? No problem, you don't have to say anything—it's fine." Wang Shouyi waved his hand repeatedly.

"Yeah, Wang Yan, this is your own business—the municipal bureau already has records. We're just asking out of curiosity," said Ye Wei.

They assumed Wang Yan had reservations and didn't want to speak."

"No, there's nothing I can't say. Brother Zhang told me today: 'The organization has no individuals, no secrets.' Besides, this money came from government compensation—I broke no law. I just don't actually know how much I have…"

Facing the two men, who were speechless, Wang Yan explained: "My family used to live well—big house, lots of land. When our land was requisitioned, we received two apartments and over eight million yuan in compensation. Later, I started playing around with stocks and futures on my own, got lucky, and made some money."

Then, I accidentally came across Bitcoin. I learned mining from others and bought some myself. By the end of last year, it hit twenty thousand U. S. dollars, so I sold all my Bitcoin. Then I used the money to buy some funds, invest in stable stocks, and purchase government bonds. Over the years, I've also gradually bought more houses and commercial properties. So I really don't know how much I have—but probably seven or eight hundred million yuan."

"That's enough for me to live comfortably for life, so I stopped tinkering. I'm afraid if I use it all up, I might lose everything overnight."

This was the Living Dad's explanation—just give him money, give him asset allocation. Since he gained the ability to earn large sums quickly, outside the ancient world, he'd never known poverty."

As always, the Living Dad doted on this good son. Since he could earn money fast, there was no need to struggle—just equip him fully."

This time, as a police officer, he was equipped thoroughly. With money and ability, he didn't coddle anyone. Of course, even without money, he still wouldn't coddle anyone. His principle has always been: if you're good, I'm good, we're all good. If you make me suffer, then none of us will be good. But even this 'none of us will be good' process requires proper methods."

He didn't particularly enjoy showing off with money, but money truly was an effective remedy for many problems. So he preferred simple, efficient solutions. To avoid using money and instead convolute simple problems—that's what fools do."

After hearing Wang Yan's words, feeling the blinding aura of wealth, and digesting the news, Wang Shouyi chuckled: "I knew right away you were a good kid. Look—you suddenly became rich, yet you learned to invest and trade stocks instead of becoming Hu Hun. Good, good."

"It was just luck. Later, I found out it was a trap. But I withdrew two days early—if I hadn't, I might've been begging. Back then, I was young and reckless; now I'm terrified just thinking about it. After that, I stopped playing high-risk games—I only hold long-term, stable investments."

"With this understanding, Instructor Ye and I are reassured," Wang Shouyi nodded approvingly, then asked, "Zhijie said you know image enhancement techniques—and that you're better than the municipal bureau's people?"

"I do know how, but whether I'm better than the municipal bureau's staff, I can't say—I've never seen their work. But I can enhance most images and videos to make them clearly visible. If the original quality is too terrible, there's nothing I can do."

"No need—we rarely encounter high-difficulty cases. Your skill is our unit's trump card. Extremely practical. In the past, processing images meant waiting forever. From now on, we'll rely on you. How about this: tomorrow morning at the meeting, I'll announce that anyone with image-related issues should come to you. No problem?"

"Guaranteed to complete the mission!"

"Alright, that's all. If there's nothing else, get to work. First case—do it well."

"Alright, I'm off, Chief, Instructor."

Wang Yan nodded politely, rose, and left the chief's office. Only Wang Shouyi and Ye Wei remained, staring at each other, still stunned by Wang Yan's sudden wealth…"

Wang Yan himself knew the chief and instructor genuinely cared for him. In fact, in grassroots police stations, as long as someone's character isn't terrible and the leadership isn't corrupt, the atmosphere and relationships within are usually quite good."

In state institutions, most people spend their entire careers seeing the same faces. How many get transferred or selected away? Most remain, struggling together, and harmony is inevitable. Besides, policing is a dangerous job—good colleagues and brothers save lives. If they can't save your life, they still care for your family."

Wang Yan was unique in the station—again, two reasons: money and ability. He knew it well. But he wasn't targeting leadership—he was focused on researching Cao Army Supervisor."

Downstairs, he didn't rush to the underground interrogation room. First, he went to the restroom, then stepped outside to the back courtyard, lit a cigarette, and planned to enjoy a smoke."

He'd just reached the flowerbed, lit the cigarette, and sensed someone watching. He turned—there sat Xia Jie in civilian clothes, idly kicking her legs on the bench under the veranda."

He smiled, crushed the newly lit cigarette into the flowerbed already piled with butts and blooming with bougainvillea."

He walked over and sat beside Xia Jie…"

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