Chapter 328: County Detective Team

Jiang Yuan went straight home to rest.

Every single parking attendant at Jianyuan Pharmaceutical, without exception, was taken into custody. Their upper management was also being taken in one after another.

With the case progressing this far, Jiang Yuan had nothing more to do. These cases, in terms of solving them, presented virtually no difficulty, but their complexity kept growing. Even Yu Wenshu couldn't act alone—he had to gather evidence and report upward.

This wasn't Jiang Yuan's strength, and Yu Wenshu didn't want him involved too deeply; he promptly approved his leave.

To be fair, Jiang Yuan's leave was already excessive. A regular detective might get just one annual vacation all year—that's considered good. Only after solving a homicide or similar major case would they earn rewarded leave.

In previous years, the Changyang City Criminal Investigation Brigade's rewards for solving cold cases often included one to three months of paid annual leave.

The problem was, Jiang Yuan had solved too many homicides. Others might spend months on a case; for him, it took a short time. Denying him leave was impossible.

For Jiang Yuan, this trip had already lasted too long.

Back when he was at Ningtai County Bureau, whether he was tired or not, he went home every day. After being transferred to Changyang City, the worst part was not being able to go home.

This feeling was something Jiang Yuan deeply disliked.

Since his mother's death, Jiang Yuan and his father had relied on each other, eating meals from neighbors' homes, cooking terrible food together, and chewing steamed buns just to stay alive—material life offered no luxury, but spiritual life was never lacking.

His father did everything he could to care for Jiang Yuan—that was the most genuine warmth Jiang Yuan felt during his youth.

It still is.

Jiang Yuan drove at the speed limit all the way, eager to get home.

In the residential compound, lights blazed brightly—solar streetlamps and regular bulbs glowed together, illuminating the paths with clarity.

The stairwell, by contrast, was dim.

Inside the elevator, there was a deep silence.

Ding.

The elevator reached his floor. Jiang Yuan rushed out. "Brothers in harmony! Four blessings and wealth! Six sixes, three stars shining!"

Loud, boisterous dice-calling erupted from inside the apartment, piercing through the door.

Jiang Yuan paused, then carefully checked the door plaque: a first-class merit medal hung prominently in the center, flanked by two second-class merit plaques—this unique exterior decoration, exclusive to Jiang Village, meant he couldn't have mistaken the door.

Inside, bright lights revealed every detail of the living room. Over a dozen men were loudly cheering, drinking, eating, and chatting.

Comrade Jiang Fuzhen sat at the center of the sofa, sandwiched between his third and fifth uncles, his face flushed from drinking. Jiang Yuan couldn't help but smile.

"Hey, Jiang Yuan's back?" Third Uncle spotted him instantly and shouted out.

Jiang Yuan nodded with a smile and greeted: "Third Uncle, Fourth Uncle-in-law, Fifth Uncle." He didn't sit at the table—these all-male drinking sessions were brutal; someone always ended up passed out.

And usually, there wasn't much food—just meat as the staple. In the past, they bought ready-made dishes; now, Comrade Jiang Fuzhen cooked beef, lamb, chicken, and goose himself.

Jiang Yuan changed clothes and hurried into the kitchen.

The greatest legacy left by Uncle Seventeen was saving money—and saving time. He rarely used vegetables, used little oil, and relied entirely on cooking technique for flavor. There was some attention to detail, but the savings were real.

In no time, Jiang Yuan brought out a large bowl of fried rice.

The fried rice glistened with oil, placed in the center of the table—anyone hungry could serve themselves a bowl, then return to drinking and dice-calling. From afar, it looked as if Uncle Seventeen himself was still joining in.

Midnight.

Each family took their own men home; if no one claimed them, they were put to sleep in guest rooms.

Uncle Qiang

had also drunk a bit, but his eyes were still sharp. He lifted Jiang Fuzhen with one hand, as if steadying a whole roasted lamb, and carried him back to the master bedroom, arranging him properly.

Jiang Yuan helped his father take off his coat and shoes, wiped his face twice with a hot towel, then cleaned his hands and feet before stepping out.

Uncle Qiang watched at the door, envious: "If my son had even half your filial devotion, I'd be content."

"He probably just doesn't know how," Jiang Yuan replied naturally. "Young people don't learn these things."

Uncle Qiang, still tipsy, spoke freely: "You're young too—how did you learn?"

"We forensic technicians often clean corpses," Jiang Yuan said. "We commonly use alcohol to wipe them down—it smells similar—and the way we move and clean is the same."

Uncle Qiang's words instantly stalled.

He looked again at Jiang Fuzhen, lying limp and motionless on the bed, and hesitated whether he should still feel envious.

Snoring began to rise.

The uncles in the guest rooms slept soundly, their snores rising and falling like frog calls in a melon patch—long and loud. Jiang Yuan slept deeply.

Jiang Fuzhen slept until the next afternoon. The first thing he did upon opening his eyes and seeing Jiang Yuan was to pull three incense sticks from a drawer and hand them to him: "Offer them."

"This…?" Jiang Yuan thought for three seconds. "Offer to whom?"

Jiang Fuzhen turned and opened a room door. Inside, everything was arranged: a portrait of Guan Yu, an altar table, and a meditation mat lined up in order.

Jiang Yuan was now quite used to facing Guan Yu. He quietly lit the incense and bowed respectfully. This trip had seen at least four deaths—he'd tell Guan Yu they should reform well down below, endure more suffering.

Suffering.

When he stood up, a warm red egg was placed in his hand.

"Eat," Jiang Fuzhen said. He himself was hungry, cracked open a red egg, and added: "I bought quail eggs too—the little birds, not quite as big as chickens. They say they're from Australia, and taste like goose eggs. I boiled them for you—have them tonight."

Jiang Yuan efficiently ate the red egg and asked: "Who taught you this?"

"Your master. Wu Army," Jiang Fuzhen continued. "He's a good man, worth getting along with, genuinely cares for you. He even drew you a talisman—I'll burn it for you later."

As a forensic technician, Jiang Yuan felt he should oppose this—but seeing his father's enthusiasm, he simply waved his hand: "Just do one version. My master likes repeating things—I don't agree. One matter, one master. I can't say it to him directly, so let's just keep it simple?"

"One matter, one master… you've got a point," Jiang Fuzhen agreed, then turned and went to the kitchen. After a while, he returned carrying a large platter.

"Today we eat red eggs—I bought a set online," Jiang Fuzhen thumped the platter onto the table. On it lay six eggs: quail, pigeon, chicken, duck, goose, and ostrich—all dyed red.

"Eat. Just boiled. These count as one set," Jiang Fuzhen sat beside him, watching intently.

The next day.

Jiang Yuan had planned to rest more, but Huang Qiangmin called him in—Ningtai County had its own year-end meeting.

Unlike large units like the Criminal Investigation Brigade, Huang Qiangmin was determined to make the County Detective Team shine. And he truly was making it shine.

When Jiang Yuan arrived at the Detective Team courtyard, he saw a group of unfamiliar officers in regular uniforms strolling around. Mu Zhiyang, who came to meet him, explained: "A delegation from Pingjiang Province is here to inspect our police force's construction. They've been here for several days."

"Isn't Captain Huang accompanying them?" Jiang Yuan exclaimed. Even provincial or city-level inspection teams were normally treated with proper hospitality.

Mu Zhiyang smiled. "They've been here days. Today they specifically said they wanted to tour on their own—just assign a liaison. That's why Captain Huang rushed to call you."

Jiang Yuan snorted: "So I'm just being pulled in on a whim."

Mu Zhiyang's sweat nearly dripped: "My good Jiang Captain, today even the Director took time out to meet you. That's only because the inspection team is considerate—you mustn't slip up later."

Mu Zhiyang looked genuinely anxious. Mainly because Jiang Yuan had been away, and with so many inspection teams arriving, everyone had started wildly praising Jiang Yuan. Whether Jiang Yuan heard it or not, Mu Zhiyang feared he might get arrogant.

Jiang Yuan just said "Oh" blankly and followed Mu Zhiyang to the new Detective Team building. Yes—the same small building Huang Qiangmin had traded Jiang Yuan for from the Changyang City Criminal Investigation Brigade.

The building wasn't large—still only five stories—and the renovation was plain, mostly for office use. It eased the Detective Team's chronic shortage of office space, but most importantly, it had sufficient restrooms and changing rooms—essential for officers who often worked late.

Though it was a 1990s-era building with 20-year-old renovations, for the Detective Team, it was invaluable. Without Jiang Yuan's "sale," they'd have waited until the Year of the Monkey to get it.

Huang Qiangmin even preferred not to build it too big or too nice—partly because they couldn't afford it, partly because he feared the County Bureau would snatch it. The Detective Team wasn't the only one short on office space—the County Bureau itself had almost none. Land approval for construction was so difficult.

Jiang Yuan wandered the new building's lobby for a while before finding Huang Qiangmin's office. Knock knock knock knock.

As soon as Jiang Yuan entered, he was met with applause. To his left, Mu Zhiyang stared with an envious, dumbfounded expression; to his right, Director Zhang and several other County Bureau leaders sat.

"Captain Huang, Director Zhang, Director Li…" Jiang Yuan greeted as usual.

The Director waved his hand and smiled: "Captain Huang's address isn't accurate anymore. From now on, you can call him Director Huang."

The director waved his hand and smiled, "Your address for Director Huang isn't quite right—from now on, you can call him Director Huang. Reading your palm is more convenient."