Chapter 782

Everyone is curious; Xia Jie still wondered what Wang Yan had gone out to do that morning, and seeing that he seemed to have forgotten to explain, she asked, "What were you doing this morning, in such a hurry?"

"Can't hold it in anymore, huh?" Wang Yan chuckled, then said after receiving a light slap, "It's still about Zhao Zhendong's case."

"Any leads?"

"How easy do you think it is? We're together every day—if there were leads, wouldn't you already know? It's precisely because there are no leads that something's wrong. Think about it: it's been nearly a month. I've called every villager from Dongning Village in Xincheng Police District, even elderly residents and those who fled the village due to Zhao Zhangyi's persecution—I endured their curses just to call them."

"I spent four days enhancing surveillance footage—and still found not a single clue. You've taken detective courses too; there's no such thing as a perfect crime, only errors in investigative direction or phase that cause us to overlook clues."

"Zhao Zhangyi built his empire through brutality; now his whole family has no one with a high education. Do you think they could commit a crime with such precision? Yet they've survived three rounds of special investigations, and even knowing I've reopened this case to investigate him, he remains utterly unbothered—so I can't help but suspect our investigative direction is wrong."

"Then what were you just doing?"

"Looking for Zhao Zhangyi."

"Why?"

"I wanted to ask him if he did it."

There were still poor people, like families where someone fell ill, bought a house, then had surgery, and now couldn't work while recovering—it was clearly hard. Xia Jie could help those cases; I prescribed medicine and people trusted me, but if I messed up even a little, they'd sue me for practicing medicine illegally and demand compensation—I left seven hundred yuan as a condolence gift each time.

Xia Jie fell silent, then after a moment, uncertainly asked, "He went to a possible suspect and asked if he committed the crime?"

But there was one thing: the injuries on Dongning Village's body were caused by few people—that also eliminated many suspects. Logically, if a murder were known by too many, it'd be better if it were someone from outside the village—likely one person acting alone, which fits the pattern of dumping the body far into the river—but that still couldn't explain the various injuries on Dongning's body.

Still, Dongning and Chen Xincheng kept going back and forth, repeatedly visiting the old man's son, even meeting his wife and building emotional rapport. Just as in the original script, the old man's son confessed…

The villagers' evaluation of Zhao Zhendong was still correct: a honest, hardworking man, kind to others, rarely argued, even disliked reading, loved calligraphy, and was the complete opposite of his younger brother.

"Yes."

Ding Jie fixed his gaze on Zhao Zhendong; in cases like this, family members should not be excluded from suspicion. Even if everyone thought Dongning's involvement was more likely, such cases still required immediate elimination through investigation.

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them—he hadn't meant to say that, but they slipped out. He couldn't control it; his heart began pounding.

Ding Jie, setting down the items beside him, asked, "You didn't say everything—what did everyone else do?"

Smiling, Ding Jie picked up his thermos and twisted the lid. "Do you really need to ask? There are no leads. Anyway, it's already past ten—let's pack up and go home. Jiwei, are you on duty?"

But if this kind of thing went online, no need to think—those girls would get doxxed and bullied to death. "That's his own father!" "Without him, where would you be?" "Family doesn't hold grudges overnight." Maybe they couldn't even care for their own parents properly, yet on the internet they became saints, standing on the high moral ground, unleashing relentless attacks like machine guns.

Police serving people shit and urine? Unusual, but not unheard of. But circumstances vary; not everyone is that kind of old bastard who regrets only after death—if you're truly out of options and forced to handle it, then you're just unlucky.

"No."

Yang Shu exhaled deeply, speechless.

But in Xincheng Wang Yan's new district, there weren't so many troubles. In fact, if any trouble arose, developers cared even more than police. Originally, suburban housing was premium-priced and not cheap; if something happened and it affected early sales, it wasn't about who bore the blame—it was about losses in the hundreds of millions.

"If it's not working, we've already got it stuck in our hands—we can't hit it harder now. His cirrhosis is already very advanced; without a liver transplant, he won't live long, and he can't afford a transplant. Though he's proud, I still have to find a way to make his son take responsibility. This isn't for me—I can't keep cleaning his shit and urine every day, afraid he'll die in a few more months. But if he dies in our hands, that's a whole different story—you understand that."

Saying that, he went to wash the cup and brew fresh tea, then sat back at his computer and reviewed today's image enhancement and fingerprint comparison. The image enhancement was from Zhao Jiwei's case: road construction had disrupted surveillance; after a month of quiet, the thief sensed another opportunity and stole another electric scooter.

Dongning Village No. 17 disappeared; Zhao Zhendong reported it on the afternoon of the 17th. The officer on duty visited the area that same day, but nothing came of it. Two years later, the body from Dongning Village was found in the river.

Smiling, he followed him into the living room; the house was forty square meters, a very solid old building—exactly forty square meters, with eight rooms, two living rooms, one kitchen, and one bathroom, extremely cramped.

Dongning nodded and got out of the car with Xia Jie, heading toward Ping'an District.

"You can tell—he forgot how you discovered someone was gambling? Everyone lies; subtle gestures, changes in gaze, micro-expressions, slight body tremors—all of it."

Xia Jie's abilities were strong, but door-to-door visits were inefficient—I witnessed it firsthand. Even ignoring all other reasons, it shouldn't take nearly ten thousand people half a month to visit, yet seven thousand took a full month—wasn't that because Ding Jie was taking care of you…?

Cao Army Supervisor was different; this was organized crime to some extent—he had enforcers. That's why they kept holding onto Dongning—he was weak. But now it's confirmed: it wasn't Cao Army Supervisor. And from the moment Xia Jie first encountered this case, he felt it was contradictory—they shouldn't have dumped the body into the river.

Now, with a fresh investigation, Xia Jie thought there was no need to dig deeper into Zhao Zhendong again—then who else should they investigate?

Zhao Zhenye shook his head laughing: "It's not that I'm clever—it's that Zhao Jiwei handled it poorly. We must learn from this: mediate disputes, resolve conflicts, and fix them thoroughly, or we'll just invite more trouble."

For a moment, the Zhao household fell utterly silent…

The two men carried four sets of equipment, holding their body cameras, chatting and laughing as they entered the building.

"Xia Jie, what do you think if I ask the chief to assign me to community work?"

"That's nonsense—if something happens in the station, how can they laugh? Zhao Zhenye shook his head. "I think the problem isn't big—it'll be resolved in two days. People like them? They'll have too many incidents. Once we finish investigating these two days, we'll sweep them all up at once—those two couples will suffer."

"I'm not on duty tomorrow—I'm writing case reports for Master's case."

Now, thanks to Xia Jie's changes, though the method is crude, it's effective—there simply isn't a better one. Under the original script, Zhao Jiwei wouldn't have cared. Of course he cared—but he couldn't spare the energy right now. Unlike now: anything that can be solved by reviewing surveillance or matching fingerprints, Xia Jie handles it himself, freeing us to focus more on other cases.

"Really?"

But clearly, other villagers outside the village have also been eliminated. So now Xia Jie is starting over—he must re-investigate Zhao Zhendong.

These contradictions are precisely what guide the investigation toward accuracy…

This elder brother dropped out of school early; at eighteen, he stopped studying. Zhao Zhendong sent him to learn auto repair; by age eighty, after seventeen years, he'd risen from apprentice to owning his own small but busy repair shop and a used car dealership—with eighty employees. His living conditions weren't bad, and he'd honed real skills through years of hardship.

As they spoke, Xia Jie had already found Zhao Zhendong's number and called; after a few words, he hung up and turned. "Let's go—it's Sunday, and the whole family's home."

Li Dawei silently looked at Xia Jie—he was the one truly throwing money away. I always thought Xia Jie was stubborn, that he donated the million yuan only to solve the problem of Yang Meifang's son…

Zhao Zhendong is only seventy-eight—he's not even at retirement age; he's not yet in the elderly group, so calling him "old man" is inappropriate. Kong Liping is likewise not yet an "old woman." But years of heavy physical labor have aged them prematurely—though they still look spirited.

Ding Jie and Yang Shu were slumped on the windowsill, staring blankly out the window, lifeless.

Xia Jie finished his tea and wandered over to dispose of the tea leaves.

"No, my son doesn't care for me—isn't it you who cleans my shit and urine?" Li Dawei muttered bitterly.

Of course there were problems—but when problems arose, people didn't report them; they just called Xia Jie directly, and he'd show up to mediate. But such cases were rare—only eight total—and the reasons were absurd: one family splashed water onto another's doorstep; two migrant workers got into a verbal fight; another case was an elderly couple quarreling so badly they lost their dentures and threatened divorce…

Hearing the noise, Ding Jie sighed: "I wonder what sin I committed in my past life to have to clean this old man's shit and urine. Yan Ge, tell them—the case is clear: this old man drinks too much and beats his wife, leaving her bruised all over, and at home he's cruel, showing no regard for his grandchildren. You say he's like that—of course his son won't control him."

"No, why does it sound like you're enjoying this?" Dongning frowned at Li Dawei.

For his younger brother, Zhao Zhendong had worn himself out and grown utterly exhausted—they lived right next door, so avoiding him was impossible. Though he despised him daily, he still often fed him. He couldn't run away; this worthless ruffian was his own brother—he'd beaten him, yelled at him, but still had no real solution.

He was still sensitive now—no one cared for him, no one paid for him—this was life-or-death.

"You say we should arrest them all."

Meeting Ding Jie's piercing gaze, seeing his smile, Ding Jie felt inexplicably uneasy, quickly looked away, and slapped Xia Jie lightly, as if by accident: "How could you possibly let him go?"

Li Dawei was certain—he understood Dongning's look in that moment: "Don't tell Xia Jie."

Zhao Zhendong is eight years older than Dongning Village; at seventy-eight, he had one son and one daughter. His son was seventy, his daughter eighteen—he worked as a laborer on construction sites to support the family. His son dropped out early to work; his daughter was still studying.

Actually, if you really get into it, the son's actions are flawed, but the old man failed as a husband, failed as a father, failed as a grandfather, ruined his family, drank, beat people, acted like a drunkard—it's his main occupation. Now he's seriously ill, dying, still causing trouble, trying to force his son to support him. This son is loyal, but completely messed up.

Those few young people are all wrong, or perhaps it's still this: ordinary jobs without any halo, most young people just starting work are all wrong.

"You're part of the station too—you should lend a hand. Wang Yan from Xincheng still has a few days left before finishing his visits. You two are here—help him out." Dong Ning winked at Li Dawei.

Wang Yan fulfilled his duties as head of the household, naturally greeting Xia Jie and Dong Ning. He grinned, his sturdy face radiating a slick charm.

Xia Jie was helping us preserve this pure coldness.

"To hell with it." Dong Ning's face was flushed to his neck, but he acted as if nothing happened, changing the subject: "What's next? Back to the station?"

Xia Jie smiled at you: "Is he really not willing to give up community work?"

The sons' words were useless—they couldn't be persuaded. They were about to be driven to the hospital, so they quickly called Xia Jie over.

As for Zhao Weiguang's side, Wang Shouyi naturally still rallied the comrades of Siwaihe Police Station to donate money. Of course, some of them were just mouthy, saying Xia Jie had no money and telling him to contribute less. But Wang Shouyi immediately scolded them harshly on the spot, and Li Dawei of course didn't tell Xia Jie.

Li Dawei shook his head, smiling bitterly: "Remember the case with Ding Jiexiang and Yang Shu a few days ago? He was right, Brother Yan. Zhao Weiguang's old man got stuck with him—now Zhao Weiguang's taking care of him in the hospital. Yang Shu's old man, this morning, he and Ding Jie were out for not long, and the whole family carried the old man into our station. Oh man, the scene back then."

Speaking first and acting first are two different things. Ding Jie gave me a lesson first, letting me mentally prepare to see how disgusting these people could get—I'd realize how hard it is to reason with such people. But before anything started, Ding Jiexiang and Wang Shouyi both fed me the idea that there's no absolute right or wrong, that one should blend with the world.

Moreover, Dong Ning Village has no sons or daughters; his house went to Zhao Zhendong. They moved out, but didn't sell their old house—after all, demolition rumors have always circulated, and they're holding on, waiting. Now they're renting it out, still waiting. That's hardship ending in sweetness: they sold one house, netting eight or seven million. On the other side, Zhao Zhangyi's two courtyards were demolished—that's another huge sum, successfully unlocking the life achievement of being a millionaire.

To welcome their two guests, the whole family stood up. Only after Xia Jie and Dong Ning sat on the sofa, each holding a piece of watermelon, and exchanged polite pleasantries, did everyone sit down.

The course of events still followed the original path: over the next eight days, Siwaihe Police Station actively contacted all parties, gathered evidence, and eventually arrested several members of the extortionist family. The couple, who had endured days of nightmare, were not incited by Yang Shu to sue, but he sincerely apologized.

"Not bad—didn't cause you trouble. If it weren't for you, Wang Yan from Xincheng would've finished his visits long ago, right?"

Ding Jie clearly understood Li Dawei's meaning and pulled out his wallet. He always carried a wallet, always holding over a thousand yuan in cash—he'd put ten or so ten-thousand yuan into his space, refilling as needed, just for convenience when giving out seven hundred yuan for condolences. Scanning a code felt like nothing, but people really could accept it—only cash worked. You had to haggle back and forth a bit before they'd let you leave—that was the proper procedure.

After arriving at a building in the central district and confirming the address, he entered the unit, climbed the stairs—relatively spacious, plastered with many ads—to the seventh floor, and knocked loudly on the small iron door labeled 707.

"You're not on Brother Yan's side, are you? Zhao Jiwēi got into trouble—you're secretly pleased."

By then, Xia Jie's reputation had reached eleven thousand followers. That was from Ding Jiexiang's side, and the masses of Xincheng Wang Yan—all added together, no one knew who spread it, but everyone was eager to add him as a friend. Even some students added him, saying they couldn't solve problems and wanted him to explain.

As for the suffering of many hours a day, that explanation doesn't hold. Was it the negative emotions Dong Ning Village brought him?

As for the phone call from Song Ju, those are meaningless. I'll be here for another year—let alone Song Ju, even Liang Ju might have to queue to call me.

So at the first moment, Zhao Zhendong's suspicion was ruled out, and focus shifted sharply to Cao Army Supervisor.

Without Dong Ning needing to ask, Xia Jie told him the results, then added his speculation about Dong Ning Village's second wife.

"You don't know when you have peace, do you? But this time there's no excuse—it's just that you followed me on visits for a month, and you're just reluctant to leave."

Xia Jie shook his head: "Are you just talking out of anger? Just now you said he shouldn't die in our hands, his son won't pay, and he won't take responsibility. Now the old man's here—what do you suggest? First, we need to donate a round of humanitarian aid. If that still doesn't solve it, we'll have to use station funds to support him until he dies. You? You'll be the one cleaning up his shit and urine—until the old man takes his last breath."

The old district's usual problem: parking is hard. But Xia Jie clearly didn't care—he circled once, found no spot, and simply parked on the roadside where it wouldn't obstruct traffic. Following Ding Jiexiang's address, he checked the building number and headed over.

"You can only determine yourself that your investigation direction is wrong—you have no way to prove it to subordinates. The chief is half-skeptical, but he's just watching your passion, unwilling to crush you, just playing with you."

Through this incident, Xia Jie and Zhao Jiwēi's relationship improved somewhat—though that was Zhao Jiwēi's own perception. Ding Jie showed no particular change, still acting exactly as before.

"So what do we do now?"

"Oh, it's nothing." The woman waved her hand. "Come in, sit down. The watermelon was just cut—waiting for you."

Though the reason for the commotion was a bit funny, they immediately called Xia Jie—that clearly showed their recognition of him. It proved Officer Wang was supported by the people, and Officer Wang was deeply pleased.

"Still no leads?"

"Why be so polite? Who are we to each other?" Ding Jie raised an eyebrow and gave Ding Jie a hard shoulder bump.

Watching Xia Jie's helpless expression, Dong Ning asked: "So what's your next move?"

"Is it really that minor, as you say?"

"Why not? You're with him every day—he must be enchanted by your charm." Dong Ning was embarrassed; Xia Jie used his lack of shame to defuse it—this was clearly not a good place to talk about feelings.

Watching Yang Shu fall silent, Ding Jie asked Zhao Weiguang curiously: "What do you plan to do? Just take care of him like this?"

There were others from different districts who came seeking him out, and various referrals came to consult him on legal matters, cases, and more. Some even came from Ping'an City, parents of missing children, asking him to check surveillance footage—responding to messages took hours daily. Zhao Zhangyi's parents and in-laws messaged him asking when the banner would arrive—quite quiet.

Ding Jie didn't rush to the main topic—he chatted amiably with Ding Jiexiang, pulling others into the conversation, even including the little kid who was biting his hand, while observing the family's situation.

Scanning the room, Xia Jie grinned at Li Dawei: "So busy today? You even went to the scene?"

Zhao Jiwēi came up with a dumb idea: reviewed surrounding surveillance, had the electric scooter owner identify the vehicle from footage. He finally identified several suspects, had Xia Jie process the images, and arrested those thieves.

A year and a half before Dong Ning Village went missing, Zhao Zhendong's family saved money and bought a large old house in Ping'an District. In 2004, housing prices were rising—back then it cost seventy-seven thousand; now the average in Ping'an District is 27,000. Eight years later, Zhao Zhendong's seventy-eight-year-old son got married and bought a new apartment in Ping'an Capital—back then it was just over ten thousand, but now prices are also 27,000—he bought it and made a fortune.

"Didn't you just start fighting with your mom again? Didn't you get an award recently?"

Zhao Weiguang sighed heavily, slumped back, lifeless.

"You're right." Yang Shu sighed too. "This afternoon, after that family left our station, they went to the couple's home and caused trouble. They sprayed paint on the wall demanding compensation. When we arrived, they ran. When we left, they came back again."

This case wasn't without gains—though many actions were useless, they confirmed that all eight previous task force investigations were wrong. He hadn't reviewed the other two Juan Sect files, but Xia Jie asked Chaodao—there was a Chaodao in the original task force.

"My master is trying to get medical insurance—it'll solve part of the problem. Right now, all hospital bills are paid by my master. The police job doesn't pay much, and you still have to pay out of pocket."

He flipped through the Juan Sect file again, half-heartedly. It was already ten o'clock. Xia Jie exhaled deeply, stretched his arms, rolled his neck, and met Dong Ning's gaze.

"That's not something to joke about—if it really happened, such things can't occur. Why let children go through that? I checked again two days later—those two kids are still terrified, haven't recovered yet. Forget that—Brother, after you learned about it, you know his business is huge…"

Ding Jie pulled a thermos from his four-piece set: "Just do your own job—don't cause trouble now. Half the station is out—what can we help with? Just do what you're supposed to do."

Zhao Zhendong still lived in the old house he bought—seventy years old, no property management, walls cracked, peeling, patched repeatedly, covered in the marks of time. The district's average price is 21,000. It's not the building's fault—it's the school district's fault.

Ping'an City is large, so there are expressways connecting major areas. It was Sunday morning—few cars on the road, no congestion. Xia Jie was a seasoned driver; his car was nimble, weaving through traffic, keeping within the speed limit. In less than half an hour, he reached the intersection and followed navigation toward Ding Jiexiang's home.

"Forget it. We got back early this round—eating like this every day, I think I've gained at least eight pounds this month." Dong Ning shook his head vigorously.

Zhao Weiguang sat up, shouting: "Donate money? Donate to this old man? Let me die on my own!"

"Maybe the traffic cop thought your car looked nice." Xia Jie smiled, waving his hand dismissively. "Let's go. In another two or three days, we'll finish visiting another place—we've reached a quarter of the way. Doesn't that feel good? No sense of accomplishment?"

As he spoke, Ding Jie parked the car by the roadside of Xincheng Wang Yan. "Get in. Another beautiful day's ended."

Watching the two chat warmly, Li Dawei pretended he didn't exist, quietly tidied up, silently followed behind, silently got into the front seat of the car, silently went downstairs to his home—this was his daily routine.

Undoubtedly, this was an unusually close brotherly relationship. After visiting the village, no one said the two had any conflict. It wasn't as if Dong Ning Village was hopeless trash—he couldn't be blamed for dragging Zhao Zhendong down. They'd fought, yelled, all useless. Often, just feeding him a meal so he wouldn't starve—that was enough for a brother.

"Brother Yan, what do they say about the Little Tree incident? Look, everyone who came back seemed relieved."

"What next? I'll review the Juan Sect files again these two days. After finishing the Xincheng Ding Jie visits, I'll go meet Zhao Zhendong, the older brother of Dong Ning Village, and learn more. Then we'll see."

Xia Jie greeted everyone outside the house and made their acquaintance.

Xia Jie smiled and said, "Sorry to drop by during your break, young man."

……

"Is this about reason? Are you here to lecture us on the law, to make us recognize our own mistakes?"

The fingerprint comparisons and image enhancement done during that period? That's all irregular operations, not even worth mentioning.

The entire Zhao family was home: the eighty-year-old woman who opened the door was Zhao Jiwei's younger brother Wang Yanhao; holding a frightened child was his wife Liu Jing, a slightly overweight man in fashionable clothes; another man with long, curled hair but very thin, dressed even more fashionably, was Zhao Weihong, the eldest son; the remaining calm, white-haired old man was Zhao Zhendong, and the other elderly woman was naturally Zhao Zhendong's wife Kong Liping.

"What are we waiting for? Let's go."

Clattering away, facial recognition identified seven people, taking half an hour; the results were sent to the overwhelmed Yang Shu, while Xia Jie pulled out the Andejuan Sect case file she had flipped through many times and began reading again.

That was also what happened in the original plot: later, Yang Shu promoted electric vehicle tracking; the thieves had stolen exactly such vehicles with trackers, and Zhao Jiwēi and others followed the trail and caught a bunch of them—but then Zhao Jiwēi stole Yang Shu's credit…

"It was fine before, but how can you detain anyone now? No matter what, arresting so many people at once is a big deal—leaders are worried, you don't need to be here spouting off. Hurry up and pack your things and leave. Want something to eat before heading back?"

"Not like that."

"Haven't you heard about Officer Wang's exploits? Catching big thieves, rescuing children—you even know these two families, right? Back then you all played together. Didn't he catch a wanted fugitive too? A while back your WeChat Moments were flooded with news of Officer Wang being awarded Third-Class Merit. Truly young and accomplished."

Soon, the sound of slippers shuffling came, and the security door was pushed open from inside; an eighty-year-old woman greeted coldly: "You're Officer Wang, right? Come in, come in. Oh my, just walk right in—no need for shoe covers, don't be so formal."

Opening the heavy front door, passing the entrance screen, Ding Jiexiang hurried forward two steps and said, "Da Wei, Xiao Shu, why are you two back so early?"

Another day of door-to-door visits ended; after walking far with the still-adjusting Dongning to eat a bowl of pig liver noodles, Xia Jie returned to the station precisely at 1:30 p. m.

Ding Jiexiang stared blankly at the seven hundred yuan in his hand, then stared blankly at Xia Jie; immediately, another seven hundred appeared—pushed over by Ding Jie.

It wasn't Cao Army Supervisor's doing; then the suspect with the least motive now was someone else in the village—the top candidate had to be Ding Jiexiang.

Dongning slapped back, but his face flushed red.

After so long together, even if your reflexes are sharp, you've grown accustomed to it. And on another level, you often chat with Li Dawei, listening to his summaries of experiences from visiting the public with Xia Jie.

To this family, Xia Jie, driven by her professional instinct as a traditional Chinese medicine master, unconsciously performed a visual diagnosis—everyone looked fine.

Xia Jie grinned and nodded toward Yang Shu: "How's it going over there? Jiwēi told you the municipal bureau is asking about it."

Compared to the burden of billions of imperial subjects eating, working, reproducing, and aging, the trust of ten thousand ordinary people earned by a big police officer at this moment was equally heavy…

The moving incident was recorded in the Juan Sect file; Xia Jie learned of it during her earlier visit to Zhao Zhangyi. But back then, she didn't know about the murder; though she'd heard a word or two, she didn't probe further, since everyone in the village assumed Ding Jiexiang had killed him… At the time, Ding Jie had called Zhao Zhendong and had a complicated conversation.

But as always, there's no such thing as a perfect crime—only various factors accumulating to make a case unsolvable. Xia Jie flipped through the file, reorganizing the case.

After all, Zhao Zhendong wasn't without motive—he seemed like a useless younger brother who always acted up when trouble arose; it wasn't implausible that in a fit of rage, he'd killed Dongning.

That old man brought a door panel and lay down right outside our meeting room. His sons kept yelling for us to bring those two here to demand compensation. Then they claimed it was our station's fault, that we were favoring them. They caused chaos all afternoon, and we barely managed to shoo them away. But after leaving us, they directly blocked the entrance to those two's house.

Xia Jie pulled out two hundred yuan and slapped it into Li Dawei's hand. "I bet the chief will mobilize everyone to donate in the next two days. Before others donate, I'll cover your seven hundred. If anyone at the station says something snide like 'Your family got relocation compensation, so why are you short on cash?'—write down their name and tell me. I'll wait till I get back to scold them."

Moreover, the economic conditions of people in this district are actually decent—after all, Xincheng Wang Yan focuses on premium housing, with average prices nearly two thousand lower than surrounding districts. Handover was only two years ago, so there are no truly destitute people. There are few disabled, but even those have decent conditions—they wouldn't buy new homes otherwise. Those who recently fell ill and had successful surgeries are recuperating at home. Elderly people in wheelchairs? No one here is truly poor.

Ding Jie waved his hand and smiled: "Enough. One thing at a time. Don't say things that divide us. The chief said internal issues get resolved internally—we're still united outwardly. Besides, do you think I have a huge grudge against you? You just can't stand how I am. Didn't you change a lot after being scolded? To admit fault and improve is the greatest virtue."

Xia Jie smiled, said "Get some rest early," and turned to leave downstairs; Ding Jie turned back to his room at the same time; Ding Jiexiang looked at the seven hundred yuan in his hand, then at the two who believed in humanity, and silently left too…

"How did he answer that?"

Unsettled by Ding Jie's look of disbelief, Ding Jiexiang asked incredulously: "If you already knew, why did you ask?"

And on another level, the special task force isn't here to just eat and loaf around—they're professionals. If the investigation direction is wrong, it doesn't mean they didn't do their work. It's not just Cao Army Supervisor and Zhao Zhendong—everyone else in the village was investigated too. Since Cao Army Supervisor's case remained stuck, attention turned to the village: anyone who'd argued with Dongning had to be re-investigated, with just that much force.

But as Chief Wang said, if Cao Army Supervisor's involvement was still unclear, now that his suspicion is eliminated, the case has no leads at all—it's become empty.

Ding Jiexiang isn't brave enough—he wouldn't risk getting into deadly trouble. His wife was slept with by Cao Army Supervisor, leading to divorce; how could Dongning have known? As Xia Jie said before, such a profound humiliation—if Dongning had any guts, he should've grabbed a knife and slashed Cao Army Supervisor back then. Why wait seventy years to vanish?

Xia Jie shook her head gently. "You still have a big gap—you can't work independently yet. You need a few more years to mature. You've been here a month—do you really think community work is stressful? Haven't you seen Brother Zhang writing reports at the station every day? If you're doing community work, you'll almost certainly be writing reports from early morning till late evening."

"Hasn't he gotten eight tickets this month?"

"Of course he admitted it—do you even need to think?"

"What did the chief say?"

"Speculation. I'm not confident in my judgment. Ding Jiexiang might have slept with Xu Lirong. But if Xu Lirong was willing, she wouldn't have divorced Ding Jiexiang and run to Jinan. But we can't handle that matter—after all, they're both eighty years old; there's no way to pursue it. Now we're still stuck on Ding Jiexiang's case—if it's not him, at least we had a target. Now we truly have no direction."

Though the woman said that, Ding Jie and Dongning still put on shoe covers—that's one of the hassles of visiting apartment buildings: you can't burden others.

Most importantly, Ding Jiexiang still maintained a zero-report record—this was a terrifying achievement. Everyone at Siwaihe Police Station, including Song Ju, knew this clearly: there was definitely a cover-up here.

Still, Dongning's rising hope faded again. She truly had big shortcomings—many times, she'd said the wrong thing, offended people, and Xia Jie had to rescue her. Also, many sudden situations arose—neighbors quarreling, couples fighting—she didn't know how to mediate. Even after watching Xia Jie do it once and hearing her explain the reasoning, when it came to her turn, she achieved nothing…

As for official duties, her performance was also very good. In one month, Xincheng Wang Yan had zero emergency calls—except for the case involving the man caught smoking e-cigarettes, Xia Jie provided leads on two drug users, eight real-world gambling cases, one online gambling case, later arrested one for embezzlement, and captured a fugitive wanted by the provincial bureau with an 80,000-yuan reward—quite a harvest.

"It's only eight o'clock—why go back?" Xia Jie pulled out her phone. "Let's go see Zhao Zhendong first—he lives in Ping'an District. We'll eat here and come back."

This was like when, in those days, close relatives or friends of a special family would visit a sick person, and upon leaving, leave seven hundred yuan. When offered, Ding Jie gave the same reply: seven hundred wasn't much, but the relationship instantly shifted from inside the door to outside.

Li Dawei frowned and asked: "What about the money? What do we do with the money? We're afraid someone will die in our hands; hospitals are afraid too. If they have no money, why would they send the person to our station? Based on your experience watching news for so many years, do you think hospitals would do something like that?"

That morning, Dongning stood at the main gate of Xincheng Wang Yan, staring blankly at one corner of the district. After a month of door-to-door visits, she knew every building here—she could even name many people, knew their jobs, incomes, family situations, and more. She felt she knew everything here, yet felt a hollow emptiness. And after this month, though she might seem like she was just doing routine care, she'd truly earned recognition—a personal commendation.

Zhao Weiguang sighed to the heavens: "If only I'd sinned."

"If we're not solving the problem, the chief and instructor are downstairs in a meeting, and everyone else is out gathering information about this family," Ding Jiexiang said, still shaken. "The scene back then was truly terrifying…"

That's not all—back then, seeing so many quiet people, many filmed and posted to WeChat Moments, Douyin, quickly uploading. The chief said the municipal bureau was alarmed and told us to handle it fast. Now I think about it, his mouth must've been blessed—it's so accurate, Brother Yan."

At that moment, Xia Jie and Dongning finally completed their full door-to-door visits of Xincheng Wang Yan, lasting exactly one month and one week. The results were significant—Xia Jie and Ding Jie's relationship could not be said to have improved dramatically.

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