Chapter 15: Chapter Fifteen: A Quiet Funeral

“Please accept our condolences.”

“We ask you to grieve with composure.”

Jiang Yuan followed his father to pay respects before the coffin, lingered briefly, then quickly stepped out.

Jiang Fuzhen walked while sighing: “Father dead, mother imprisoned—what a pitiful child. And your uncle and aunt have suffered so much.”

Seventeen Aunt’s case had not yet been judged, but anyone could foresee that even if she escaped the death penalty, she would spend a long time in prison. Their son, Jiang Le, was still in school, and now he had become the most heartbroken and wounded person of all.

Though the people of Jiangjia Village were wealthy, their ability to help in this matter was very limited. Jiang Yuan could not bear to witness such scenes; after leaving the memorial hall and returning to the kitchen, he felt his emotions begin to ease.

“Your uncle Seventeen’s problem was that he was too stingy,” Jiang Fuzhen said, lost in memory. “When the village was poor, he wouldn’t even skim the foam off boiling meat. Later, he opened a small restaurant—there was no need for it. His shop supposedly earned a lot, but he never counted rent, labor costs for him and his wife, initial investment, or interest. Then he used his demolition compensation to partner in another business, invested again, and lost countless sums… His wife’s outbursts were understandable.”

“I thought Uncle Seventeen was quite fat,” Jiang Yuan said.

“He ate leftovers from the restaurant,” Jiang Fuzhen sneered. “No money, fine. But with money, still so tightfisted? Of course his wife flew into a rage.”

Jiang Yuan had no clear memory or understanding of Uncle Seventeen, but from the fried rice with egg skill he had acquired, his father’s words were likely true.

“Try this,” his father scooped a piece of beef for Jiang Yuan and sprinkled a little more salt on it.

Adding salt while boiling meat causes the flesh to tighten, making it chewy and less likely to fall apart. Those who prefer strong meat flavor and firm texture—like many Mongols—add salt at the start of boiling beef or lamb. Those who prefer tender, soft meat should do the opposite.

Jiang Fuzhen’s beef was tender but not falling apart; it separated easily with a pull, yet offered good elasticity when chewed. Jiang Yuan nodded as he ate.

“Take a plate over to the young people,” Jiang Fuzhen said after Jiang Yuan had eaten two pieces. He loaded a large plate with beef whose fat was slightly yellow and handed it to Jiang Yuan.

The freshly boiled beef quivered slightly on the plate, like a beating heart muscle.

Jiang Yuan carried the meat straight to the square, where it was warmly welcomed by the young people who disliked the formal banquet.

“It’d be even better if we had skewers,” said Cousin Jia, having eaten a piece and slightly filled her stomach, now voicing a new demand.

“I’ll get some,” one of her male classmates eagerly responded.

“If we had crab, that’d be perfect,” said Cousin Yi, glancing at the male classmates who had come with them.

“I’ll go,” the boy wiped his mouth and ran off.

Soon, plates piled up before Jiang Yuan and the group of young people, who ate and chatted casually like at a picnic, thoroughly relaxed.

Then Jiang Yuan’s phone rang.

Seeing Jiang Yuan pull out his phone, Cousin Jia swallowed two bites of meat and asked urgently: “Brother Jiang Yuan, did you find a body?”

Jiang Yuan could only smile, then stood and walked aside to answer the call.

“Jiang Yuan, did you find the suspect in that intentional injury case?” Major Huang Qiang’s voice pierced Jiang Yuan’s ear, rapid and forceful.

Jiang Yuan grunted, “The fingerprints matched. I submitted them to the system for expert review…”

“The experts confirmed it,” Huang Qiang interrupted. “You did it. Good work…”

As Major Huang spoke, his voice grew fainter.

Jiang Yuan kept responding “Yes,” but before Huang Qiang continued, he heard chaotic commands through the headset:

“Get Team Two up and head straight to Qingbai City—go to the suspect’s home. Team Three, go to his parents’ house and search thoroughly. I’m sending official letters and calling now… If you can’t find him, both teams head directly to the power plant. Maintain secrecy, build good relations with the local police station, be polite, and report constantly…”

Amid the commands, Huang Qiang hung up on Jiang Yuan.

Jiang Yuan put away his phone, looked up at the pitch-black sky, and sighed for the detectives of Team Two and Team Three. Now, if they gathered and caught the man, they’d proceed to interrogation, case work, and gathering evidence; if they didn’t catch him, per Major Huang’s orders, they’d stake out the suspect’s workplace and other possible locations, then return to the same cycle again.

“Brother Jiang Yuan, are you going to the unit?” Cousin Jia’s friend handed him two skewers, eyes full of anticipation.

Jiang Yuan took the skewers, ate one bite, swallowed, then said: “No need. It’s not my job.”

Arrests—pure fieldwork—depended only on manpower availability and whether the officer was young and strong as an ox. Clearly, Jiang Yuan was not needed as basic labor for now.

Of course, assigning forensic photography, video recording, and evidence collection during arrests was perfectly reasonable and advanced. Taking photos, recording video, and gathering physical evidence on-site greatly aided subsequent investigations. But in practice, such on-site forensics were always handled by detectives themselves—if needed, they could also lift fingerprints and collect potential DNA samples…

These very real operations were like using mules as oxen, and oxen as donkeys—everyone was a beast of burden; no one had reason to envy another.

Evening.

Officers from the Second and Third Platoons of the Ningtai County Public Security Bureau’s Criminal Investigation Team in Qinghe City hurried 200 kilometers to Qingbai City, flattering local police and preparing for stakeouts and other operations.

Jiang Yuan and the cousins, siblings, and relatives attending Uncle Seventeen’s funeral ate skewers seriously and scrolled through TikTok.

Midnight.

Liu Wenkai watched the suspect return home, shouted sharply, and launched the arrest with a surge of adrenaline.

Stars sparkled in the sky, a light breeze stirred, grass by the roadside swayed, and occasional clinking glasses and chatter drifted through the air.

Nightfall.

Liu Wenkai and officers from the Second and Third Platoons traveled through the night back to Ningtai, weary and jostled along the way.

Jiang Yuan rolled over, lips pressed tight, face rigid, as if a baffling case had appeared in his dream.

In short, it was a quiet funeral.