Chapter 318

Jianyuan Pharmaceutical.

The factory floor was still operating normally, but the white-collar workers in the office area saw nothing but chaos.

Members of the Yuan family from every level had gathered together, including some profit-seeking elites who hadn't set foot in the company in eight hundred years; the atmosphere was already bizarre, and with detectives from Changyang City questioning everyone one by one, it was impossible for the office to feel anything but tense.

Some Yuan family members, whom no one had seen in years, now met only to exchange awkward small talk. Yet most distant relatives were quite pleased to see the Jian family's misfortune.

After all, apart from securing jobs at Jianyuan Pharmaceutical, many hadn't even gotten jobs—they could only do business around Jianyuan, earning less than one percent of Yuan Jiansheng's annual income, toiling endlessly while watching the Jian family's lavish spending, which was truly infuriating.

If the entire Jian family were eliminated and everyone could divide up Jianyuan's assets, things would be delightful.

The team leader, Meng Chengbiao, was thoroughly frazzled.

He specialized in pre-trial interrogation and prided himself on detecting lies and reading emotions. But this round of questioning left him deeply frustrated.

Just like the Yuan family of Jianyuan Pharmaceutical, he was equally vexed.

Many people acted as if they had no idea what had happened.

Yuan Jiansheng, as the person most closely tied to the female victim, had nearly forgotten about the mistress altogether.

"Yin Fei? That was eight years ago. I treated her well back then," Yuan Jiansheng said, sighing deeply, his face filled with nostalgia and emotion.

Meng Chengbiao frowned: "A night of marriage brings a hundred days of affection. Yin Fei was with you for seven or eight years, and you can't even remember that?"

"Not that long. More like three or four years. Usually, after three or four years with me, I let them go." Yuan Jiansheng spoke casually.

Meng Chengbiao, hearing only the words, assumed he was lying—but seeing Yuan Jiansheng's expression, he grew serious: "What do you mean by 'let them go'?"

"That warehouse was my gift to her, with a long-term agreement with the company, staff already arranged. If she didn't want to bother herself, she could just take the annual profits and maintain a very comfortable lifestyle."

Meng Chengbiao had seen his share of wealth, but even he frowned deeply and pressed: "So you kept her as a mistress for three or four years, then cut off contact?"

"How could that be?" Yuan Jiansheng laughed heartily. "When I remembered her, I'd call her back. But it was rare—only a few times a year."

Meng Chengbiao: "What if she didn't want to come back?"

This was a core line of questioning—in murder cases, romantic relationships were the most common motive.

Yuan Jiansheng was old, but his wits were sharp. He glanced at Meng Chengbiao, then smiled faintly: "It was all agreed upon. If she no longer wanted to stay, or wanted to get married, she just had to return the warehouse."

"What if she didn't want to leave, and refused to return the warehouse?"

"Then I'd terminate the long-term agreement," Yuan Jiansheng said calmly. "The warehouse earns so much money only because it handles delivery and storage for Jianyuan. Without the agreement, it wouldn't make much. Plus, there's a deposit, and penalties under the contract—there are plenty of ways."

"After all, the contract was signed," Meng Chengbiao understood, muttering: "You're just giving her money outright—why go through all this trouble?"

Yuan Jiansheng smiled but said nothing.

Meng Chengbiao stared at him seriously: "Director Yuan, I'm asking this with full seriousness—it concerns motive for murder. If you can't explain this clearly here, you'll come back to Changyang with me to explain it properly."

Yuan Jiansheng wouldn't be so easily taken away—he still held political status. But he wouldn't provoke a confrontation with the detective either.

After thinking, Yuan Jiansheng said: "First, after working in my company for a few years, most girls no longer want to continue. The relationships among colleagues and superiors are complicated, their minds wander, and they lose interest in working. Personally, I don't want them disrupting the company's normal operations."

"Second, stepping out into the world benefits their future. Many girls lack a platform. Give them one, let them navigate the business world, earn money through their own ability, and they'll no longer care about my little patch of land."

Yuan Jiansheng spoke vaguely, but Meng Chengbiao understood enough.

After asking a few more questions, Meng Chengbiao left the room gloomily. He'd seen the lives of the rich, but the lifestyle of these major asset holders, the way men who controlled the means of production operated, still left him deeply unsettled.

"Captain Meng." An office worker stepped out and called out to Meng Chengbiao.

Meng Chengbiao's mood lifted instantly; he glanced warily around: "What is it?"

"Just an explanation," the worker smiled. "Most girls who followed Director Yuan actually left on their own."

"What do you mean?"

"Like Miss Yin—her warehouse wasn't just for Jianyuan's goods; she could also find other business, storing goods for other companies. Our office occasionally referred clients to her for cargo agreements."

"Oh."

"So after a while, girls like Miss Yin, once they understood this business model and learned how to operate on their own, would request to sever ties with Jianyuan Pharmaceutical. They'd earn less, but have fewer constraints and no risks—and no longer have to take orders from Director Yuan."

"Would Director Yuan agree?"

"Of course," the worker winked. "Only mature, grown women want to venture out independently in business. Director Yuan only encourages it."

Meng Chengbiao finally understood: "So he breaks up with them this way?"

"If the woman doesn't want to leave, Director Yuan is willing to wait," the worker said calmly. "After all, the company pays anyway."

Meng Chengbiao grew increasingly annoyed by the old man and frowned: "Did Director Yuan tell you to say all this?"

"I'm just clarifying for you. Miss Yin had already largely severed ties with Jianyuan Pharmaceutical. In fact, she planned to buy the warehouse outright, and Director Yuan agreed to let her pay in installments over three years. Even if she couldn't pay it all off, he'd likely waive the rest. But she'd lose all Jianyuan contracts. For that, Miss Yin had met many people and needed to re-sign contracts."

Meng Chengbiao grumbled: "Why didn't Director Yuan say this earlier?"

The worker smiled: "Now you know, don't you?"

Meng Chengbiao asked: "Do you know which contracts she signed?"

"I know a few companies," the worker handed him a sheet of paper. "The detectives back then also asked about this, but nothing ever came of it."

Meng Chengbiao looked at the A4 paper—it listed seven companies, including two logistics firms.

His frown deepened. A rough count revealed Yuan family members, associated businessmen, inevitably some employees and individual vendors. And what about Yuan Jiansheng's other mistresses? What were their attitudes?

Thinking of these people and connections, Meng Chengbiao felt a pounding headache.

No wonder Shen Yaoguo had chosen the warehouse route back then—Miss Yin was tangled in a web of complex relationships, just like a ball of yarn.

If he had to guess how she died, Meng Chengbiao could think of three or five possibilities instantly. But proving any of them was nearly impossible.

Meng Chengbiao stayed at Jianyuan Pharmaceutical until 10 p. ., then returned to his hotel.

The next morning, Meng Chengbiao followed up with more interviews, only to be disappointed—no one had sent him any letters. He reluctantly returned to Changyang City.

In the Jiangyuan Cold Case Task Force office, the atmosphere was generally oppressive.

The foundation for secret investigation no longer existed—anyone who wanted to know could easily find out. Yet the case had sunk into a quagmire, with no clear direction for breakthrough.

Jiang Yuan was still flipping through the photos.

Under his Level 6 Tool Mark Identification skill, nearly every photo provided him with vast amounts of information.

Still, finding the killer from this information remained extremely difficult.

Meng Chengbiao had already shared all his collected and interrogated intelligence with Jiang Yuan. Seeing his furrowed brow, he said: "Cold cases are always a tangled mess. We'll untangle them slowly. If we really can't make progress, we'll just switch to another case. We don't need a 100% clearance rate for murder cold cases."

"Not necessary," Jiang Yuan shook his head, turning to Tang Jia: "Did you find the materials I asked you for?"

"I looked. Found nothing," Tang Jia shrugged.

"What about juvenile records?"

"Nothing there either."

Meng Chengbiao frowned suspiciously: "What are you two hinting at?"

"I suspect Yuan Jiansheng's fourth daughter, Yuan Yushan. I asked Tang Jia to investigate her criminal record," Jiang Yuan didn't hide it. In TV dramas, officers who withhold key information from teammates and investigate alone usually die—if they're not the protagonist.

Meng Chengbiao had never even heard of Yuan Yushan: "Why her? What's wrong with her?"

"I thought she seemed off during the last case," Jiang Yuan said.

Meng Chengbiao didn't press further. Veteran detectives often sense something "off" about people. Jiang Yuan might not be old in years, but he'd handled enough cases.

"Right now…" Jiang Yuan glanced at the listless detectives in the office. The cold case team was mostly young; setbacks had drained their morale.

Jiang Yuan shook his head: "At this point, let's try the brute-force method."

Tang Jia perked up immediately: "A plan is better than no plan."

"Yes, it's a bit tedious," Jiang Yuan paused. "Pull all theft and burglary cases from several months before and after the murder date—especially the past few months. Focus on cases involving lock-picking with lock picks. Gather all photos of the lock cores and send them to me."

Jiang Yuan paused again: "If there are no lock core photos, send photos of the locks themselves. Or if any cases involve knives, send photos of the knives and the blade marks. If physical evidence still exists, go dig through the evidence…"

Tool marks can be matched for identity. But the problem is, tool mark databases are extremely limited. Normally, detectives find a weapon, bring it to the forensic center, and compare it to see if it matches a case.

Of course, you can also do as Jiang Yuan suggested—gather a batch of photos and check whether the marks match.

If they do, the two cases can be linked.

Of course, Jiang Yuan's method was a bit unsportsmanlike. His Level 6 Tool Mark Identification skill could instantly tell whether two marks were made by the same tool—a technique others couldn't replicate.

Meng Chengbiao thought it was fine, assuming Jiang Yuan just wanted to tire out the team and burn off their gloom, keeping them from sitting around depressed.

Meng Chengbiao then gathered everyone, gave them a pep talk, and expanded the search window to nine months before and after the murder.

"Take detailed photos—take as many as possible," Meng Chengbiao assigned tasks, and the detectives got to work: some on computers, others out in the field.