Chapter 247: Regret

"Ooh, ooh, ooh…"

"My old back just can't handle dampness. This place is all wet."

"It hurts lying down, and it hurts standing up too."

In front of the young nurse, Liu Jinghui kept complaining.

The nurse on the special care floor gently said: "I'll bring you some ibuprofen later. If you're really uncomfortable, take one."

"Ibuprofen's a painkiller, right? Hey, I'm worried about getting addicted." Liu Jinghui grumbled: "You don't understand—police like us deal with major cases all the time. We get injured often, so we dare not use painkillers lightly."

"If you don't usually take painkillers, a few fewer tablets of ibuprofen won't hurt—it'll help you feel better. Ibuprofen is also quite safe; it's one of the two common fever reducers for children, just in different formulations and dosages." The nurse finished hanging his IV, tucked the blanket around him, and said: "Rest well. Press the call button if you need anything."

"Alright. Thank you." Liu Jinghui smiled.

"It's nothing. You're all heroes. People today say it's because of you that others can live in peace." The nurse's voice was soft as silk.

Liu Jinghui watched the young nurse leave.

The door closed. The room fell silent again.

Ten seconds later, a loud shout rang out: "You pulled out the IV catheter again! If you do it once more, I'm going to lose it!"

Liu Jinghui turned slowly—not alone, and certainly not his gentle, beautiful nurse.

Knock knock.

A knock came at the door. Liu Jinghui immediately put away his phone, crushed out his cigarette, fanned the air twice, smoothed his pillow, rolled onto his side, and let out a plaintive cry like a fledgling calling for its mother: "Ooh, ooh…"

"We're coming in." Jiang Yuan, Huang Qiang, Wei Zhenguo, and others entered the room carrying baskets of fruit.

Liu Jinghui: "Ooh, ooh…"

"Director Liu, still in pain?" Huang Qiang's lips curled up at a 33. -degree angle—his version of enthusiastic warmth.

When digging for Liu Jinghui, Huang Qiang had thrown himself fully into it: he'd gone days without sleep, used his own police dog and Jiang Yuan, and spent plenty of his own funds without reimbursement—his efforts were undeniable.

But once Liu Jinghui was dragged out reeking of urine and cleaned up, Huang Qiang's excitement faded.

The truth was, a missing police colleague buried alive was a tragic, heroic figure—empathy flooded like a river.

But a living senior police officer from the provincial bureau? That was just ordinary. Especially a Level Three Senior Officer—he didn't even wear a white shirt. Deputy Director? Still a deputy. Officially, not special.

Liu Jinghui groaned twice more, turned, saw only Huang Qiang, then sat up abruptly: "No reporters? I thought there were cameras."

Huang Qiang feigned concern, moving to help him up: "Don't get up so fast! After all, everyone's got cameras on their phones now. What if someone films you?"

"No way. I'm just cooperating with their work—I don't need anything from them. I was buried nine days and came out whole. Not worth all this fuss." Liu Jinghui nodded to the others, opened a pack of cigarettes, and passed them around. "Open a window. Smoke inside. Don't let the smell drift into the hallway—you'll get yelled at."

Huang Qiang took a cigarette: "You said you were missing ten days. Why are you now saying nine?"

"I didn't fall straight into the mine on the first day. So officially, it's nine days. Hey, don't give me a two-digit number—otherwise people'll say, 'Poor little Liu got buried for how many days?' and think he's being dramatic." Liu Jinghui mimicked the tone perfectly.

"No way, no way. Nine days buried? Any normal person would be dead. How hard must it have been to survive? Let someone clueless try it. Besides, no one planned to dig you out after nine days—if you hadn't been lucky, you'd have been dead inside. Who'd you complain to then? We're just lucky. You cheated death."

Liu Jinghui grunted, took a deep drag, then said: "You're right—it was just like that. I knew you'd find me. I figured, at worst, you'd find the car and then find me. Didn't expect that guy dumped the car right into the mine pit…"

"That's why it's so dangerous. Three people buried under a mine. If it were me, I'd be terrified to death."

"Hey, water didn't fully cut off. My phone turned on on schedule, battery still had juice. Just no food. Water was still dripping from above—couldn't shower, though. I was worried the mine would flood—that'd be trouble. Hahaha…" Liu Jinghui emphasized the water issue.

Huang Qiang and the others exchanged glances and nodded in agreement.

After finishing his cigarette, Liu Jinghui turned to Jiang Yuan and smiled: "I heard Old Xu wants you to transfer to the provincial bureau. You didn't go?"

"It's not a real transfer—it's temporary assignment," Huang Qiang quickly stressed: "No permanent position means no rights. A few years from now, when Xu Taining retires, Jiang Yuan gets sent back and has to start over from scratch. That's a huge loss."

Huang Qiang didn't even need to say the second half—everyone here understood. And everyone here was a master of understanding.

But Huang Qiang still said it—and emphasized it.

Liu Jinghui chuckled: "The provincial bureau has its perks—more connections, more to learn, higher allowances…"

Huang Qiang looked at Liu Jinghui, his lips slowly flattening.

"Hahaha…" Liu Jinghui laughed three times, then patted Jiang Yuan's shoulder: "Enough joking. I really mean it—thank you all. If not for you, I'd have died in that mine."

"We'd have found you eventually," Jiang Yuan replied—he'd already reviewed the search operation: "If we hadn't found the bodies, Director Xu would've expanded the team and prioritized your vehicles as the first search target. Once the Zifeng Mountain area was exhausted—or nearly so—they'd have turned to surrounding terrain and traffic patterns."

Vehicles are large objects—even burning leaves traces. Transporting one elsewhere means passing countless checkpoints with cameras—easy to expose the driver's identity.

So if the car couldn't be found, they'd draw a circle within the checkpoint coverage area and systematically search. Of course, this was a massive undertaking—but with thousands of officers, several dogs, and township cooperation, they'd likely find it within a week.

Xu Taining's ability to cast wide nets and conduct systematic searches was widely respected. The biggest risk was lack of confidence or missing targets. Everything else was just a battle of time, resources, and pressure.

Liu Jinghui thought much the same as Jiang Yuan, just from a different position—he sighed: "I never expected you'd find the bodies first…"

"The only place near the flat-tire parking spot we hadn't thoroughly searched was that mine entrance," Jiang Yuan said. "The only option left."

"When Old Xu gets serious, his decisiveness is far stronger than mine," Liu Jinghui nodded silently. By his own reasoning, he believed the mine likely held bodies—or other evidence.

But after sending divers down and getting no results, he ultimately didn't order the mine drained for further inspection.

Deep down, it wasn't just about cost—it was also about time, and the lack of elegance.

As a true detective-type cop, Liu Jinghui believed he could solve the case without relying on corpses. He didn't need one—or multiple—bodies to prove his judgment.

His ultimate goal was to arrest the criminal. As for bodies? Once the killer was caught, he could just ask him directly.

In hindsight, Liu Jinghui wasn't wrong.

Jiang Yuan's team found the bodies—but the bodies themselves offered little information. It was the bags containing them that pointed them toward Fang Jinxiang.

But Liu Jinghui never needed that step. He deduced the mine near Fang Jinxiang from tire tracks—even though he didn't know it was Fang Jinxiang.

He saved over a million yuan—and did it elegantly.

Had the killer not been so efficient and held a slight advantage in status—turning Liu Jinghui into a broken man—this case could've been a textbook example.

"Ah…" Liu Jinghui sighed sincerely.

"But the killer, Fu Guangyun, still won't talk, and we haven't found any link between him and the previous Wang Guoshan case," Jiang Yuan said—he still cared deeply about this.

In fact, Liu Jinghui had originally come to Zifeng Mountain chasing Wang Guoshan's trail to find bodies. He didn't find any, ended up injured himself, and in the end, the two trails never merged.

Liu Jinghui also cared—but he just shrugged: "Don't rush. Many death-row inmates are defiant before their second trial. Wait until they're actually sentenced—then their psychology changes."

"I thought they'd be relatives—at least someone who knew each other socially," Jiang Yuan still looked disappointed.

Liu Jinghui chuckled: "If they live so close and each commit crimes, they'd never have social contact. Think about it—who'd tolerate a serial killer in their circle? And serial killers wouldn't tolerate it either."

Jiang Yuan thought it over—and realized it made sense.

A person rejected by society isn't just rejected by others—he rejects such people himself.

Like a womanizer won't marry a womanizer. A gambler won't lend money to another gambler. A drug addict won't trust another addict…

Similarly, when a high school dropout becomes a boss, he doesn't want to hire more low-education workers—he takes pride in hiring highly educated ones. A young thug won't brag about another thug who's good at math—he'll say, "I know someone who never went to class but aced his grades… until someone slashed him during the college entrance exam…"

Even divorced parents with kids won't seek divorced parents with kids as partners.

A serial killer won't be happy to learn a relative or brother is also a serial killer.

At best, they're competitors.

"Don't overthink it. I'll visit them in prison later," Liu Jinghui wasn't in a hurry for answers.

On the contrary, he preferred to slowly savor the puzzle himself.

It's like eating shrimp—meat should be thick, flavor rich, back plump, body fat—but it shouldn't be spineless. No spines, just meat? You lose the essence.

For Liu Jinghui, reasoning itself was already fascinating. If there was no target to chase, he'd rather take his time.

Liu Jinghui chatted with the others a bit more. Before they left, he gripped Jiang Yuan's hand and asked: "Has the autopsy on the bodies in the mine finished? Any findings?"

"One male body. DNA confirmed sibling relationship with another corpse. The other four are female," Jiang Yuan said simply. "So far, we've identified five bodies—nine total: one male, eight females."

"Four still unidentified?" Liu Jinghui wasn't surprised—but deeply disappointed.

Jiang Yuan nodded slightly: "From a forensic standpoint, it's nearly impossible to identify them."

"Understood. I'll ask Fu Guangyun later," Liu Jinghui sighed.

Most bodies are like this—especially skeletal remains. Unless DNA matches, they require ground investigations to identify.

Like in the Wang Guoshan case, hundreds of officers and multiple units worked together—it was relatively easier to find victim information.

But with Fu Guangyun's case, the killer was already in custody. Confirming victims' identities to comfort families was important—but no longer urgent. No way to mobilize thousands for search and verification.

If victims were outsiders—travelers, merchants, or people lured or trafficked—it'd be even harder to confirm.

In the end, the most likely way to identify victims would be to question the killer.

Jiang Yuan was powerless here.

In fact, if possible, he'd much rather confirm the victims' identities.

The dead have never failed to repay him.

This time alone, Jiang Yuan gained three legacies:

Wall-building (Lv4)

Winter melon cultivation (Lv3)

Official document writing (Lv4)

If possible, Jiang Yuan wanted to fully understand the remaining bodies. But ability and conditions limited him—case closure time had come.

After bidding farewell to Liu Jinghui and sharing hotpot with Huang Qiang and the others, Jiang Yuan took leave and went straight home.

Five days of compensatory leave.

Just from Huang Qiang's generosity, the public security situation in Ningtai was clearly very relaxed.

Back home, Jiang Yuan deliberately tried using his three legacies.

Official document writing didn't need rushing—he'd have plenty of chances to use it back at the bureau.

Winter melon planting was slightly out of season, but not impossible. Jiang Yuan slightly modified his enclosed balcony, checked the temperature, and began sowing.

Meanwhile, his wall-building skill was perfectly useful—everything fit together beautifully.

As if reconciled with the world.