Chapter 16: Chapter Sixteen: Recheck

The morning in Ningtai County still held a faint mist.

Jiang Yuan rode his electric scooter into the courtyard of the Criminal Investigation Team, his arms slightly damp.

“Morning,” a passing officer smiled naturally at Jiang Yuan.

Jiang Yuan paused, then quickly replied: “Morning.”

After so long at the unit, this was the first time someone had greeted him on the way—and the officer who greeted him looked familiar, though Jiang Yuan couldn’t recall his name or unit.

He shook his head and turned toward the building; two more people nodded and greeted him along the way.

Though everyone was rushing, Jiang Yuan’s mood unconsciously brightened.

When he entered the office, Wang Zhong and Yan Ge were already seated inside.

“Jiang the forensic doctor’s got hidden depths,” Yan Ge exclaimed with admiration, even using the formal title “Jiang the forensic doctor”—which, frankly, showed far more respect than calling him “Little Jiang.”

In a local police unit with no money, no power, and no promotion prospects, respect was the most precious thing.

Hearing Yan Ge’s words, Jiang Yuan immediately realized: the suspect in yesterday’s Liu Yu assault case must have been identified.

“Did you catch him? Has the recheck been done?” Jiang Yuan looked at them expectantly.

“We caught him. As for the recheck, take a look yourself,” Yan Ge handed Jiang Yuan several fingerprint cards.

Yesterday, when matching fingerprints for the “Liu Yu assault case,” Jiang Yuan had made multiple fine adjustments and marked only eight characteristic points—so a recheck was required.

According to regulations, eight matching characteristic points were the standard for investigation—meaning, if two fingerprints shared eight points, the Criminal Investigation Team could consider it a match and proceed with arrest, interrogation, and warrant approval.

But to enter the judicial process and use fingerprints as evidence, a formal fingerprint identification report was required, which demanded at least thirteen matching characteristic points with no exclusions.

Now, with the suspect in custody, comparing fingerprints became simple.

After all, inked fingerprints themselves were of questionable quality; even the best inked prints couldn’t capture all fingerprint details.

But with the suspect present, multiple inkings would reveal more details. Conversely, using newly inked prints from the suspect to match those left at the crime scene made matching far easier.

Jiang Yuan took the fingerprint cards, glanced at them twice, and felt his mind calm.

Logically, someone on the team must have already rechecked the prints—otherwise, Yan Ge and Wang Zhong, both trace evidence technicians, would’ve been swamped, not wasting time playing guessing games with him.

Still, speculation was speculation; Jiang Yuan immediately pulled open a drawer, took out the magnifying glass, pressed the cards down, and examined them.

One look confirmed it: he had matched.

The original print had been studied too long, and it was freshly done—it was already etched into his memory.

Still, Jiang Yuan opened his computer, pulled up the “Liu Yu assault case” fingerprint, and scanned it again.

This time, he focused solely on whether any exclusion points existed.

Theoretically, two identical fingerprints could exist—purely from probability, given enough numbers, a monkey randomly typing could produce Shakespeare.

But if even one characteristic point differed, then—whether theoretically or practically—the two fingerprints could be definitively excluded.

Jiang Yuan carefully examined every detail from start to finish and found no exclusions. He casually marked thirteen characteristic points, exhaled, and smiled: “Recheck is fine. It’s definitely a match.”

Yan Ge, who had been half-waiting for a show, sucked in a sharp breath at Jiang Yuan’s final move.

He’d done the exact same task last night—suddenly called in from bed. Why him and not Jiang Yuan? Naturally, because he was the senior trace evidence technician, the only one qualified to issue the fingerprint identification report. Not because Team Leader Huang Qiang had any personal bias, worrying about exhausting the unit’s precious manpower.

But precisely because he’d done it yesterday, Yan Ge’s doubt in life deepened at the sight of Jiang Yuan’s final gesture.

He’d admitted to himself last night that his late-night cognition might’ve dipped—but even then, a fingerprint identification taking around ten minutes was perfectly reasonable.

How long had Jiang Yuan taken to mark those characteristic points just now?

Unconsciously, Yan Ge recalled the terror of being dominated by all kinds of geniuses during his school years.

After a long silence, Yan Ge exhaled heavily: “A twenty-year cold case—and you, a desk jockey, cracked it…”

“We’re all desk jockeys,” Wu Fa Yi corrected. “We all solve cases.”

Yan Ge said: “Jiang Yuan today… technically solved this case yesterday. He’ll be bragging about this for life. Serious assault, cold case, and fame—I bet half the bureau still remembers this one. Especially our homegrown leaders—they all mobilized back then…”

“I just found one lead. Most of the work was done by others on the team,” Jiang Yuan applied his school-taught skill of false modesty.

Yan Ge chuckled: “Without your lead, the others wouldn’t have had any work to do—they’d all gone home. Now they’re dragged back for overtime, no extra pay.”

Jiang Yuan fell silent, unsure whether to feign modesty or shift blame.

“Bang bang!”

Liu Wenkai, captain of the Second Squad, stuck his head in and grinned: “Jiang Yuan, you’re here. Thanks for working hard yesterday.”

“I didn’t work hard…” Jiang Yuan had eaten skewers and drunk beer last night—he truly didn’t feel tired.

Liu Wenkai’s face was flushed with post-all-nighter excitement: “If you hadn’t matched the fingerprints, this case would’ve died. In a story, you’d be credited as the primary hero.”

Jiang Yuan changed the subject: “How’s the suspect? I mean—what kind of person is he?”

Jiang Yuan had only matched the fingerprint and confirmed identity—he knew nothing else. As a new recruit, he still felt some curiosity about suspects.

Liu Wenkai thought for a moment, then said: “Just an ordinary guy. Terribly unlucky. Back then, he had a pen pal in our county. After the college entrance exam, he rushed over immediately to meet him. But when he arrived at the agreed time and place, the pen pal didn’t show. He waited a full day, got upset, ran into the victim who was half-drunk, exchanged a few harsh words, and things escalated—he hit too hard, and the tragedy happened.”

“What about the pen pal?”

“After what happened, he knew he’d hurt the guy badly, so he never contacted the pen pal again,” Liu Wenkai paused, then added: “The pen pal never wrote another letter either. But deep down, he probably blamed himself for not showing up.”

“So, besides the suspect himself, no one knew he ever came to Ningtai County,” Wu Jun summed up, then sighed heavily: “He was unlucky—but also lucky.”

“Ordinary people can’t handle this kind of luck,” Liu Wenkai said coolly. “When they shoved him into the car, he collapsed crying—he said he couldn’t fall in love, couldn’t marry, couldn’t take out a mortgage, had to save money for his parents, and had to avoid appearing on any social media… He kept asking us why we didn’t come sooner…”

Yan Ge couldn’t help but sigh: “When the crime happened, he’d just taken the college entrance exam. Now he’s around forty—his whole life’s been derailed.”

Liu Wenkai smirked: “I asked him one question—and it stopped his crying.”

Yan Ge prompted: “What question?”

Liu Wenkai said: “I asked him: why didn’t you turn yourself in sooner?”