Chapter 279: Eruption

Under the witness of many villagers, Li Hui, the slaughterhouse owner, again pointed out the location of the bloodstained clothing in the ancestral hall, drawing a flood of curses:

"He's making blood money, stealing money from all of us."

"No wonder he ran away—he was afraid of being hacked to death, right?"

"Who could be a good person making money from a slaughterhouse? Putting bloodied things inside the ancestral hall—is he sucking the blood of the whole clan?"

Li Hui's face flushed for a moment, then gradually grew accustomed to it.

He had already consulted a lawyer before; for what he'd done, he wouldn't be sentenced to much time anyway.

As for reputation, he wasn't staying in the village anymore.

"I'm showing this to our ancestors—not because I'm neglecting my kin, but because his crimes were too grave," Li Hui shouted louder as the noise outside grew: "If you come to work, you work! Cutting off a female taxi driver's head—how could I protect him? And everything I could do, I did. He even tried to kill me. If I hadn't paid him off and held something over him, he might have cut off my head too—would I have let him get away with it?"

This answer carried too much information; the villagers and outsiders alike fell momentarily silent.

Then everyone grew excited.

"Wait, the taxi driver was a woman? And they just cut off her head?"

"How much did they pay him?"

"This boss is unlucky—how many years is he going to get?"

The detective in charge of escorting and identifying glared at Li Hui: "Say another word, and I'll put restraints on you."

Li Hui quickly smiled with his puffy cheeks: "No more talking. I'm done."

Though he'd left Dawan Village, he didn't want a bad reputation—he felt better getting a few words in while he could.

The detective said nothing more, took photos as needed, then pulled Li Hui back.

In this case, Li Hui's role as a witness was still highly significant.

Once the worker Li Jinzhou arrived, Li Hui's suspicion would be nearly eliminated.

The suspects, Li Tangyi and his wife, arrived much later.

The officers arresting them encountered unexpected fierce resistance, especially Li Tangyi's wife, who once took her child up to the rooftop.

After arriving at the Changyang City Case Handling Center, their resistance remained extremely strong.

Liu Jinghui, seeing their condition, didn't even enter.

"This kind needs time to wear down—detain them for a few days, once they get used to their current state, they'll talk," Liu Jinghui said calmly, as if familiar with it: "They just can't accept reality—they probably thought they'd already escaped."

"They really might have escaped," Wan Baoming said, watching Li Tangyi and his wife in separate interrogation rooms on the monitor, deeply moved: "When they committed the crime, they were both twenty-seven-year-olds, planning to learn slaughter from their uncle and then open their own slaughterhouse... Who could have imagined that eleven years later, both had become middle-aged men of thirty-eight?"

Liu Jinghui glanced sideways at Wan Baoming: "Do you even hear what you're saying?"

Wan Baoming laughed bitterly, then shook his head: "When I was in my thirties, early forties—that's when I feared death the most."

Wan Baoming sighed: "Think about it—your parents are just starting to get sick, needing care; your child is entering puberty, the most sensitive stage; your wife is chasing a second youth, trying to reclaim lost time—this is when you least want to die, yet you're arrested with the death penalty as the goal..."

"I'm just past forty, and I'm in perfect health," Liu Jinghui brushed his glossy, slicked-back hair backward—if his hair were longer, he could strangle Wan Baoming with it.

Wan Baoming patted Liu Jinghui's shoulder: "Don't rush. It'll come."

Liu Jinghui ignored him.

Wan Baoming continued his melancholy: "Don't say it—Li Tangyi and his wife have it hard. They've endured hardship together for at least eleven years; they never dared open the slaughterhouse they planned, even afraid of being discovered, so they secretly ran a Taobao store selling beef jerky—all these years, they ran it honestly, never once breaking the law."

"Just when life finally improved, they had a second child..."

Tang Jia, listening nearby, couldn't hold back: "The dead female taxi driver was about the same age, and she had a child too—next year she was going to take the high school entrance exam."

"Human sorrow and joy are brief and tragic," Wan Baoming sighed heavily, then turned to Jiang Yuan: "Jiang Yuan, what do you think? Doesn't Li Tangyi's life feel like a grand opera tragedy?"

Jiang Yuan had been watching all along, ignoring Wan Baoming—now called upon, he thought for a moment, stepped forward, left hand out as if cradling a watermelon, right hand slashing sharply downward, then yanking hard...

Then Jiang Yuan lowered his head, left hand twisting as if prying, right hand tracing a cut.

Finally, Jiang Yuan flung his left hand outward, tossing the imaginary watermelon away.

"Li Tangyi's decapitation process was probably like this," Jiang Yuan said—he'd already reconstructed the crime scene using bloodstain analysis, though it hadn't directly helped before.

Wan Baoming stared, dumbfounded.

Jiang Yuan said: "I just think Li Tangyi doesn't seem like someone who'd be in an opera."

Wan Baoming recalled Jiang Yuan's motions—his romantic sentiment vanished: "Indeed, he doesn't."

"Killing and dismembering—he's dead for sure," Liu Jinghui said calmly, stroking his oiled hair: "I wonder how his wife will be sentenced."

Tang Jia instantly grasped Liu Jinghui's implication, glancing at the screen: "Right—if Li Tangyi takes all the blame and claims his wife tried to stop him, maybe he can clear her."

"Hardly. The prosecution won't believe it. Eleven years passed with no report or confession, and they maintained a marital life. The crime scene doesn't support it—killing and dismembering isn't a simple act or decision; if there had been any real resistance, it couldn't have progressed this far," Wan Baoming said: "From my experience with such cases, the woman might even be the catalyst."

Tang Jia said: "Li Tangyi should at least try—he's doomed anyway."

"He might not think so."

As soon as Liu Jinghui spoke, the interrogator in the room raised his voice sharply: "Li Tangyi, don't be stubborn! If you were manipulated, you still have a chance for a suspended death sentence. Miss this chance, and you'll regret it."

"Regret what? Dying a few years later?"

"A suspended death sentence has a high chance of never being carried out. Understand? If you commit no intentional crime within two years, it's commuted to life imprisonment; if you behave well during life imprisonment, after twenty or eighteen years, you might be released—you'll be in your fifties, with plenty of life left..." The interrogator's words were highly tempting.

Tang Jia pointed at the monitor in astonishment: "He's lying to Li Tangyi."

Wan Baoming: "Not exactly a lie..."

"So what if it's a lie? Lying during interrogation is standard procedure," Liu Jinghui cut him off sharply.

Immediately, the officer in the female suspect's room also began using verbal tactics.

Tang Jia watched their expressions and listened to their answers, naturally concluding: They're doomed.

Jiang Yuan reached the same conclusion, and a look of satisfaction crossed his face.

Jiang Yuan said: "These two have good interrogation skills."

"Right? Our brigade's officers are all handpicked. Take Xiao Qiu—we say he could trick a worm into cutting itself in half to sell for money; if he were crueler, he'd trick the worm into cutting itself vertically."

Jiang Yuan immediately remembered Xiao Qiu: "That's the spirit—hope he cuts down more criminals."

A palpable aura of lethal intent seeped from his casual words.

Wan Baoming murmured softly: "Ningtai Jiang Yuan—fierce flame raging."

Jiang Yuan didn't blink—he always took it as praise.

······

After lunch.

Jiang Yuan packed up, preparing to return to Ningtai.

The Changyang City Criminal Investigation Brigade had already prepared a new case, but both Jiang Yuan and Liu Jinghui preferred returning to rest.

For the same reason as last time—the next case might take an unknown length of time; adequate rest before starting is necessary.

As for Liu Jinghui's one-week deadline, he didn't mention it, and no one else brought it up.

After packing his laptop and other items, Jiang Yuan greeted the officers in the office and was about to leave when Yu Wenshu rushed in.

"Today's been too busy—nothing but meetings," Yu Wenshu said, grabbing Jiang Yuan's arm: "Don't leave yet—the victim's family came to deliver a banner of thanks. Come meet them, get a photo."

Jiang Yuan hesitated: "Actually, there's no need to meet me—the brigade representative would suffice..."

"It's necessary. I already told the family this case was solved only because of you—without you, this eleven-year cold case might have stayed buried forever," Yu Wenshu pulled him firmly: "The family just arrived at the Political Department—don't keep them waiting."

Yu Wenshu then turned to the other officers in the cold case unit: "Everyone, come along—let's take a group photo. An eleven-year homicide cold case—this should be a highlight in any of your careers."

He added, Yu Wenshu then turned to the other officers on the cold case task force: "Everyone, let's take a group photo together—this 11-year-old unsolved homicide should be a highlight of anyone's career."

Jiang Yuan had no choice but to follow Yu Wenshu out, taking the elevator to the Political Department.

In the bright, spacious office, the victim's mother was wiping tears; her husband, eyes wet, comforted her.

The victim's husband sat bewildered in the center of the room with their child.

The teenage boy, at the rebellious age, appeared cool on the surface, sitting beside his father, clutching his mother's portrait—ignoring everyone.

When he saw Yu Wenshu and Jiang Yuan enter, and heard Jiang Yuan's brief case summary, just as they prepared to take the photo, the boy glanced at the portrait—and tears burst forth instantly.

His father, whose face had been tightly clenched, crumbled immediately, weeping uncontrollably.

The victim's parents wept together in unison.

The officers, who had just a moment ago worn faint smiles, fell silent—the family's grief, losing a child, a wife, a daughter, was beyond others' comprehension.

Long moments passed. The husband was the first to stop crying. With heavy sorrow, he gripped Jiang Yuan's hand, struggling for a long time before speaking: "I had prepared words of thanks—but now I feel... great kindness needs no words. I..."

The man suddenly dropped to his knees, his head slamming hard against the floor, refusing to lift it—then came a deafening, wrenching wail.

The agony of sudden news, the confusion of ignorance, the rage at the killer's escape, the despair of shattered family, the bitterness of life halted—all erupted at once.

That wailing pierced through everything.

That wailing sound pierced through everything.