Chapter 32

Wei Zhenguo asked the same questions over and over for nearly half an hour, tracing the timeline and evidence chain of the scrap yard arson case before pausing to take a sip of water.

This case was still a minor one, occurring in Xihong District, which was also Lu Xin’s hometown.

Wenshang was where his maternal grandparents lived. He knew not to steal from your own neighborhood, so when he got the urge, he’d go to the riverside village under Wenshang to set fires—until he burned something big and fled.

In Xihong District, Lu Xin mostly behaved himself, but recently he simply couldn’t hold back and set fire to a scrap collection station, with property damage likely under a thousand yuan.

To the police, such minor cases were countless; a scrap station catching fire didn’t even warrant formal filing.

Now with the pressure of solving rates looming, grassroots police stations often solved cases before filing them… Wei Zhenguo didn’t care either way, and even if he were in charge, he’d never classify an unclear case as “arson”—that’d just invite trouble for himself…

Of course, if the case was solved, then it was arson—it was arson—and the scoring on the combat ranking system had to reflect it exactly, no less. Especially since it was part of a series, the total score would climb even higher.

Wei Zhenguo squinted at the young man across from him and said in a low voice: “Tell me about the other cases too.”

“There aren’t any others,” Lu Xin whispered.

Wei Zhenguo chuckled: “You think we only have evidence on this one case? If it were just this one, would I have driven a hundred miles in the middle of the night to wait for you?”

In normal circumstances, Lu Xin would have had eight hundred retorts ready.

But when he moved, the iron cuffs clinked, and his feet kept feeling cold—he couldn’t bring himself to say the words he’d once spat out so easily.

“Arson carries a maximum sentence of ten years. Hmm… in criminal law, arson is officially called ‘setting fire.’ You set the fire, so confess honestly. Serve a few years, behave well, maybe you’ll be out in one or two. But if you resist and refuse to confess, my report to the prosecutor’s office changes—and ten years. You’re only twenty now; ten years from now, you’ll be thirty. You’ll lose your best decade in prison. Is that what you want?” Wei Zhenguo had interrogated more criminals than he’d slept with women, and he struck Lu Xin’s weakest point perfectly.

He confessed to the minor case to minimize his suffering during this interrogation—but for Wei Zhenguo and the others, his confession to the minor case was just the first crack in the dam.

Like a con artist who steals a small sum from a client to open the door for bigger thefts.

Lu Xin’s expression had completely slipped; his head kept jerking forward in regret—he couldn’t even tell which “earlier” moment he regretted.

“Speak,” Wei Zhenguo’s oppressive voice came again into Lu Xin’s ears.

“I… I did have one more…”

Lu Xin’s confession came faster now, and his mood grew lighter.

A sense of relief, like a boot finally dropping, and the release of fear.

Wei Zhenguo stared deeply at Lu Xin, waiting until he finished describing the second case, then slowly said: “Keep going.”

Lu Xin struggled: “No, I…”

“Remember this case?” Wei Zhenguo pulled a photo from a thick stack and showed it to Lu Xin again—this time, it was the tractor arson case.

Lu Xin’s fingerprints were beside the tractor’s point of ignition—a strong piece of evidence.

Lu Xin could no longer resist, and noticing the stack of photos Wei Zhenguo had just pulled out, he had no choice but to continue confessing.

As Wei Zhenguo had suspected, Lu Xin had at least some antisocial tendencies. Since childhood, he’d loved setting fires, loved burning insects; as he grew older, he’d taken to setting fires in the wild, deliberately igniting large objects—even houses.

But because he set fires purely out of preference, the timing, location, and scope were always random, making the cases hard to solve—and he’d never been caught, so his boldness kept growing.

Yet when he sat on the cold “tiger bench,” the years of inflated courage collapsed instantly, like a punctured balloon.

…

Evening.

Wei Zhenguo floated out of the interrogation room, his dark face gleaming with excitement, his stomach aching from hunger.

Arson was one of the eight major categories; though each of Lu Xin’s cases involved small sums, the total number was considerable—he’d confessed to five cases, rounding up, equivalent to a squad of junior offenders. And he’d also committed one arson case involving a hundred thousand yuan in damages.

The only regret was the forest arson case—it didn’t seem to be his doing, and with insufficient evidence, it couldn’t be pinned on him.

But regardless, solving a series of arson cases was still an excellent achievement. According to the combat ranking system’s scoring rules, the Wenshang greenhouse arson case alone was worth thirty points. The other cases, depending on their nature, were worth at least twenty points each.

Lu Xin’s arrest itself was worth another ten or so points.

In other words, this entire case bundle could theoretically add fifty to sixty combat points to the Criminal Investigation Unit’s total.

In reality… since all case types had caps, the unit’s total might not rise by sixty points—but it would still be substantial.

Possibly more than Wei Zhenguo earned in a full year of cases.

From any angle, today was a gift from heaven—just open your mouth and catch it.

Wei Zhenguo remembered Lu Xin’s eyes with tenderness.

What a well-behaved criminal—if all criminals were this cooperative, policing would be far more popular.

Looking at Jiang Yuan, Wei Zhenguo’s gaze grew even softer: “Jiang Forensics, could you please prepare the fingerprint identification report?”

“Sure,” Jiang Yuan replied immediately, glancing at Wang Zhong beside him.

“We’ll handle it together later,” Wang Zhong understood and replied at once.

Wei Zhenguo nodded happily and added: “I should’ve treated you to dinner, but my daughter already brought food. If you need anything later, don’t hesitate to call me—no formalities!”

“No need, no need,” Wang Zhong hurried to reply, then pulled Jiang Yuan a few steps away, whispering: “Watch closely—I’m not exaggerating.”

Soon after, a female officer hurried over.

She had short, sharp hair and pale skin; among the rough, weathered men, she stood out like a beer bottle bottom gleaming on a rocky beach—bright, striking, and sharp.

As she walked, heads turned; she marched straight to Wei Zhenguo and said, “Dad,” then handed him a sturdy, heavy lunch box.

“Alright, don’t bring food next time—I can get something myself,” Wei Zhenguo said, yet opened the box with a blissful smile, unbothered by the cafeteria food, grinning at everyone, then patted his head: “Forgot to introduce—Jiang Yuan, this is our new forensic officer, Wei Yin, my daughter.”

“Hello,” Jiang Yuan nodded politely to Wei Yin.

“You think she doesn’t look like me?” Wei Zhenguo had been watching Jiang Yuan’s expression closely.

Jiang Yuan looked at Wei Zhenguo’s dark face and said: “Maybe she takes after her mother…”

“Her skin takes after me,” Wei Zhenguo yanked up his shirt, revealing a pale, soft belly: “My face is just sunburnt.”