Chapter 72: Are You Questioning the Branch Unit Detectives

Steal?

Upon hearing he was supposed to steal, Zhang Sen instinctively shrank back.

It’s not about courage or not—it’s that I’ve never done anything like this before.

If we were to ask for it openly, I’d have no psychological burden.

But stealing? No way. Guilt makes you fearful—it’s not just words, it’s real terror.

He glared at Yu Dazhang:

“Why don’t you go?”

“Come on, look at my build.” Yu Dazhang stood up and pointed to his belly:

“With a body like mine, bending over is a struggle. Asking me to do stealth missions? That’s just torturing me.”

He actually had some self-awareness… Zhang Sen glanced at his large belly—indeed, it was unsuitable.

“Stealth” was a better word—much more elegant than “steal.”

Seeing Zhang Sen still hesitating, Yu Dazhang quickly added:

“Later tonight, quietly slip in and borrow the notebook. Return it after we’ve finished reading.”

Though the meaning was identical, the phrasing, artfully refined, sounded far more comfortable.

Comrade Zhang Sen nodded.

If you’d said it that way from the start, I wouldn’t have argued with you.

“Then let’s rest for now.” Zhang Sen conceded, lying down on the other bed and closing his eyes.

Ten p.m.

The two noticed the lights along the corridor of Nongjia Academy had been turned off.

Zhang Sen sat up, whispering:

“It’s only ten o’clock—why turn off the lights so early?”

“Look where we are,” Yu Dazhang replied, not rising, only turning his head slightly:

“In remote villages like this, there’s little entertainment at night. Most locals turn off their lights and sleep by eight.”

Zhang Sen thought his words exaggerated and couldn’t help retorting:

“How can they sleep? Nowadays, young people all lie in bed scrolling on their phones.”

In 2014, short videos had just emerged, mobile games were at their peak, and WeChat achieved true nationwide adoption this year.

Apps of every kind flooded the market.

It was also this year that the “phone-slave” demographic surged dramatically.

The following year, urban phone-slaves became a high-risk group for spinal injuries.

Zhang Sen raised this question because online fraud also began rising sharply this year.

“Same thing—I told you, look where we are,” Yu Dazhang lay on his side, half-open eyes, half-asleep:

“How many young people still live in the countryside? It’s 2014—this isn’t an agrarian society anymore.”

Zhang Sen nodded at this:

“No wonder when we first entered the village, we saw many children playing but no parents—turns out they’re left-behind children.”

After chatting a while, the two fell into silent mutual understanding.

Another hour passed.

“It’s about time,” Yu Dazhang sat up on the bed, whispering:

“It’s past eleven—the guard at the gate must be asleep. Go.”

“Alright.” Zhang Sen replied, slipped off the bed quietly, and walked to the door.

He pulled the door—it wouldn’t open.

Only then did he notice his hand on the doorknob was trembling slightly.

His legs felt weak too.

He bit his lip, took several deep breaths, then twisted the doorknob with force.

Watching him leave, Yu Dazhang silently prayed inside.

Brother Sen, may you stay safe.

He made Zhang Sen do this out of desperation.

Two seasoned veteran detectives had both been taken down—someone must have discovered their true identities.

So, for safety, every investigative action had to be based on one premise: do not expose your real identity.

About five minutes passed.

The door opened from outside. Zhang Sen entered carefully, holding a notebook, and quietly shut the door behind him. “Why are you sweating all over your head?” Yu Dazhang whispered.

“Of course you’d sweat—try it yourself,” Zhang Sen placed the notebook on the room’s table and sat down on a chair:

“Petty theft isn’t human work.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Yu Dazhang replied offhandedly.

What kind of thing is that?

Zhang Sen glared at him.

At this moment, Yu Dazhang’s full attention was on the notebook.

He took out the case files from his bag, spread them on the table, and located the identity information of the two missing officers.

After memorizing the last six digits of their ID numbers, he began checking them off one by one in the notebook.

No match on the last page—flip backward.

Two pages, three pages…

On the fourth page backward, he finally found the registration records of the two officers.

Please... collect... 6... 9... books...!

“Quite detailed,” Yu Dazhang murmured, then pointed it out to Zhang Sen.

Their registration entries were side by side; the top of the page was marked with a date.

“Four days ago!” Zhang Sen quickly spotted the anomaly:

“Today is the third day since they went missing—so they vanished the second day after checking into this guesthouse.”

“So they spent over a week just to get here?”

In Zhang Sen’s view, the timeline was too long.

After all, he and Yu Dazhang had arrived here in just two hours.

Are you questioning the investigative ability of the branch unit’s detectives? Yu Dazhang glanced at him, eyes filled with displeasure:

“That trafficking case is sixteen years old—finding any new lead is already hard enough.”

“We got here this fast only because we followed their exact route.”

“If we started from scratch, we might not even find a single new lead.”

This was the second time Yu Dazhang noticed Zhang Sen growing impatient.

It was as if he were worried about something.

Even if they never found the man or the gun, the blame wouldn’t fall on Zhang Sen.

Yu Dazhang simply couldn’t understand his mindset.

Was it eagerness for merit?

It couldn’t be ruled out… Yu Dazhang didn’t agree, but he understood.

Human nature, after all.

“Let’s go.”

He stood up, glanced at Zhang Sen, who seemed about to speak but held back, then returned the documents to his bag.

“Go?” Zhang Sen asked, puzzled:

“It’s this late—where to?”

“The next stop? I never planned to stay overnight here,” Yu Dazhang said, picking up the notebook:

He tore off the page containing his and Zhang Sen’s registration info, crumpled it into a ball, and shoved it into his pocket.

Then he carefully picked out every shred of paper until not a trace remained.

After finishing, Yu Dazhang handed the notebook back to Zhang Sen:

“When we leave, put it back exactly where you took it.”

“Alright.” Zhang Sen accepted the notebook.

They double-checked the room, confirmed nothing was left behind, then quietly left the room.

Passing the front desk, Zhang Sen opened the notebook to the page with the registration info and gently placed it on the counter.

He glanced at the owner sleeping behind the counter, confirmed he wouldn’t wake, and the two slipped silently out of Nongjia Academy.

Back in the car, Zhang Sen exhaled deeply and asked:

“Still heading southeast?”

“Yes.” Yu Dazhang pulled out his phone and opened the digital map:

“Drive another half hour, then find a place to park—we’ll rest in the car for the rest of the night.”

(End of Chapter)