Chapter 35: Go Personally

Afternoon.

Huang Qiang, captain of the Criminal Investigation Unit, came back to the fourth floor for another stroll—mainly to the forensic office, where he chatted for a while.

Lu Jianfeng, captain of the Criminal Science Mid-Unit, accompanied him warmly.

Lu Jianfeng was also a technical star from the Criminal Science division, though that was over a decade ago. Back then, he established Ningtai County’s first toxicology lab and cracked multiple drug-related cases, earning repeated commendations.

But as drug cases dwindled in recent years and chemical testing demands remained low, toxicology had nearly become a routine health check duty; Lu Jianfeng’s focus gradually shifted toward administration.

Huang Qiang praised the recent performance of the Criminal Science Mid-Unit, flashing a high-intensity smile, and specifically commended Jiang Yuan for his “willingness to take initiative.”

In the county bureau, forensic experts were naturally prized, and high-level trace evidence technicians even more so.

A skilled trace evidence technician could pinpoint the suspect directly, saving everyone countless hours and labor. Improving clearance rates wasn’t just the foundation for commendations and awards—it also boosted overall work completion rates. Put more broadly, it could even enhance public trust in the police profession.

Solving cases was never merely a job or a task.

This had never changed since ancient times. The daily allowance of a hundred yuan for special posts was never meant to justify overtime.

Only after this group dispersed did Wei Zhenguo slide in with a smile.

Wei Zhenguo brought someone over and said: “Mu Zhiyang—you’ve met him before. Let him shadow you these next few days. Take him to a local police station, take statements, review videos—nothing complicated.”

“Perfect.” Jiang Yuan couldn’t really make an old detective follow him around looking for electric bikes. He smiled at Mu Zhiyang, who was about his age, and said: “The surname Mu is pretty rare.”

“Not common in my hometown either. Supposedly, Emperor Emperor had a minister named Li Mu, and descendants took ‘Mu’ as their surname—it’s been passed down that way. I transferred here from out of town.” Mu Zhiyang clearly had given this explanation many times.

Wei Zhenguo summed up from the side: “Young people who pass exams from outside the area have simple social ties, making them easier to handle. No family burdens, so they’re willing to work overtime. Educated, so they’re good at investigations. That’s why only you, Jiang Yuan, wanted someone—I wouldn’t assign Mu Zhiyang to anyone else.”

Jiang Yuan thanked him again and added: “I’ve finished processing all those fingerprints. I’ll have Wang Zhong send them to you.”

Cases in the police bureau were endless; every criminal investigation team’s task list was perpetually full. Likewise, the list of fingerprints needing processing never emptied.

Unlike archived case fingerprints, each active case could involve countless fingerprints, most of which were inconclusive.

Detectives handling investigations wanted to compare as many fingerprints as possible, but the technical officers of the Criminal Science Mid-Unit could never meet their expectations—even in homicide cases, evidence couldn’t be processed with infinite precision, let alone lesser crimes.

Jiang Yuan wasn’t a trace evidence technician, so he could pick and choose which fingerprints to process. Doing a few extra sets for Wei Zhenguo was his way of repaying the six squad’s favor.

Mu Zhiyang, pleased with the good deal, happily followed Jiang Yuan and began watching video footage right in the office.

The videos were copied from the property management, covering three months’ worth of footage from eight cameras total—an enormous volume.

Not even the property staff bothered watching these recordings.

Mu Zhiyang and Jiang Yuan each watched four camera feeds, all fast-forwarded on screen, and soon grew dizzy.

Long time passed.

“Found it—this is… Jiang Yongxin’s electric bike.” Mu Zhiyang, more experienced, was operating and watching simultaneously. He finally paused at a timestamp, replayed it once, then reversed and froze the frame: “It’s a forced lock-picking.”

Jiang Yuan paused his own video and turned to look.

A man in a windbreaker walked along a row of electric bikes, pretending to make a phone call, glancing around as he selected a vehicle.

After about thirty seconds, he picked one, looked left and right, pulled something from his pocket, sat on the bike, inserted it, twisted hard—and the bike started.

“He’s stealing?” Jiang Yuan looked puzzled.

Mu Zhiyang nodded. “Forced lock-picking counts as theft, though it’s low-tech. He’s using a master key—there are several types: flat, cross-shaped. He finds a non-rotating pin tumbler lock, inserts the master key, twists hard, snaps the core, and rides off.”

“The core can snap?”

“These cores are all copper. His master key is steel—sometimes alloy steel. As long as it’s not a magnetic lock or a rotating core, he can break it.” Mu Zhiyang jotted this down in his notebook and added: “No gloves, but he didn’t touch anything besides the bike.”

“Damn, that’s clean and efficient.” Jiang Yuan, applying his LV4 crime scene inspection knowledge to the video, found no oversight by the thief.

This was one reason why electric bike thefts were so unpopular. The thief’s technique was obviously low-tech, but stealing an electric bike was so simple that he left almost no trace.

One of the basic principles of criminal investigation—Locard’s Principle—states that whenever two objects come into contact, a transfer of material occurs: something is taken, something is left behind.

But this thief? He only touched the electric bike—and then took the whole thing away. All he left behind were footprints…

Footprints aren’t like fingerprints—they can’t directly identify suspects. At best, they can only corroborate. And after this long a time, footprints in public areas would certainly be gone.

Without the video footage, based solely on the crime scene Jiang Yuan saw, this case was harder to solve than a murder—murder scenes, even without evidence, could still be cracked through interpersonal connections; in fact, most murders are solved that way. But how could an electric bike theft possibly involve interpersonal ties?

Of course, overall, electric bike thefts could never be as complex as murders. Suspects had limited vigilance and skill, and their appearance on surveillance footage itself was telling.

If you truly pursued this scene, there were still avenues: follow the surveillance footage from the day of the crime, cross-reference other cameras, track the suspect’s path—you’d still have a decent chance of finding leads.

If all else failed, once you traced him to his residence or a place he might pass again, you could station officers to watch, or just use the detective’s ultimate tool: mass screening. Eventually, you’d find him.

But none of these methods were available to Jiang Yuan.

“Next video.” Jiang Yuan thought for only a moment, then abandoned this scene.

His goal was only to help recover a few electric bikes—not every single one.

“Then let’s keep watching.” Mu Zhiyang was used to this. He’d helped people find things before—easy ones were easy, but the hard ones were truly hard.

Following Jiangcun Community’s alarm logs, the two soon spotted another daylight electric bike theft. The thief was the same man, using a similar method—except this time, he pried open a U-lock and tossed it into a nearby trash bin.

“Here.” Jiang Yuan pointed at the screen and immediately made a note.

“This footage is from a month ago—the U-lock is probably gone.” Mu Zhiyang sighed. “Residents reported late, and the responding officers didn’t secure the scene properly—that’s another issue.”

Jiang Yuan waved his hand, fast-forwarded the video a few seconds, and pointed at the screen: “When he unlocked the U-lock, he braced his hand on the lower part of the pillar.”

The pillar was made of I-beam steel. His fingers gripped a spot inside and low down—somewhere most people wouldn’t touch—so there was a good chance he left fingerprints.

But a month’s time already pushed fingerprints into the realm of superstition—whether they remained or not was equally plausible.

“Go now?” Mu Zhiyang asked.

“No rush. Let’s watch the rest—we’ll collect samples all at once.”

“Should we ask the local police station to go ahead first?”

“No.” Jiang Yuan flatly refused. “It’s been too long. I’ll go myself—it’s safer.”

Mu Zhiyang had no objection, but thought it unnecessary.