Chapter 42: Is This Appropriate?

"How do we even start?" Wang Zhong stood obediently beside Jiang Yuan.

After removing the already-matched fingerprints, over a dozen remained—left by several different people. This workload was a major case for forensic comparison.

"Do you remember this case?" Jiang Yuan asked first. Three years ago, Wang Zhong was already a forensic specialist—and one of only two in the county bureau.

Wang Zhong shook his head. "I don’t recall it. It wasn’t a high-profile case. When matching fingerprints, we don’t always check the case details—we just match the prints directly."

Wang Zhong was the kind of student who aimed only to pass: when his grades were far below 60, he worked hard; but once they clearly surpassed 60, he gave up easily. The same applied to fingerprint matching—he’d rejoice if he found a match, but if he didn’t, he was quick to console himself.

Jiang Yuan didn’t bother with such distractions. He grabbed a notebook and said, "Let’s first categorize these fingerprints, figure out how many people they belong to, then pick suitable ones for matching."

"Alright, should we record them by photo numbers?" Wang Zhong also took out a notebook and sat down beside him.

Jiang Yuan nodded and focused entirely on the fingerprints, occasionally reaching out to turn and compare them repeatedly.

Most fingerprints on the bicycle appeared in pairs. Besides the owner Ding Lan’s prints, several other pairs were found on the handlebars, frame, and beneath the seat.

In reconstructing the crime scene, these prints likely belonged to whoever or whomever abandoned the bike—perhaps even allowing us to infer the circumstances at the time.

But such speculation only flickered briefly in Jiang Yuan’s mind.

He knew his own limits: he wasn’t just a newcomer—he wasn’t even trained in criminal investigation. He had neither experience nor knowledge in interrogation, deduction, or case-solving.

In contrast, nearly all the young officers in the Criminal Investigation Team were graduates of police academies. Even the auxiliary police from his generation were mostly from the provincial police school, often working while studying for civil service exams, waiting for their chance to secure permanent positions—and once they did, they became fully operational.

At the municipal and provincial levels, graduates from the People’s Public Security University and the Criminal Police Academy were common—these were the top two police schools in the country, producing officers with superior IQ, physical fitness, technical skills, and knowledge. Yet even they had to learn step by step from veteran officers.

Jiang Yuan, a newcomer from the medical university’s forensic program, didn’t think he was any more Sherlock Holmes than his colleagues.

Without a miraculous forensic system, Jiang Yuan guessed he’d be stuck in the office waiting for corpses, running errands for the CID, or assisting Wu Jun with injury assessments.

But with the system, his situation was entirely different.

Still, he only intended to make the most of his current advantages.

In the spirit of the famous Zeng Guofan, a beginner’s fastest path was to dig solid trenches and fight slow, steady battles.

Jiang Yuan didn’t try to guess whose fingerprints these might be. He simply categorized them, numbered them, and matched them one by one.

By the end of the day, Jiang Yuan had completed only three sets—nine fingerprints.

The difficulty level of these fingerprints wasn’t high. On a cylindrical metal surface, the bike’s prints were roughly Level 2.

Compared to the Liu Yu assault case—the post-college-exam riot incident—the fingerprints on the round stool there were at least Level 3+.

But the Liu Yu case involved serious injury, college entrance exams, and minors, so top-tier experts from city and provincial levels had been brought in. It remained unsolved only because the fingerprints were too fragmented.

This Ding Lan disappearance case was on an entirely different level.

This case had attracted at most the attention of Deputy Team Leader Wei Zhenguo of the Sixth Team. Technically, it had never received proper support.

For Jiang Yuan, unless the database lacked matching prints, matching wasn’t hard. His slowness came from the severe distortion of fingerprints on cylindrical surfaces—he needed extra time to adjust them.

"Jiang Yuan, heading back?" Wang Zhong reappeared in the office, curious. "How many matches did you get?"

"Three people’s." Jiang Yuan had processed nine fingerprints, belonging to three individuals—all colleagues of the victim Ding Lan.

"Impressive." Wang Zhong felt a faint flush of embarrassment. Technically, these prints should have been ones he’d matched before—just never confirmed. Jiang Yuan had done so much in half an afternoon, proving the gap between them was substantial.

Jiang Yuan smiled modestly. "Just lucky."

Wang Zhong shook his head, then invited, "Let’s have dinner tonight. You’ve been here long enough—we’ve never properly talked."

"Sure. How many people?" Jiang Yuan agreed readily.

"I invited a few people around our age. Want me to invite Wei Yin?" Wang Zhong winked.

Jiang Yuan laughed. "Wei Yin? The team leader’s daughter? I don’t even have her contact info."

"Her number’s in the internal directory. You can also add her on WeChat through the big group." Wang Zhong urged.

"Alright." Jiang Yuan smiled, opened his phone, found the WeChat group, searched for Wei Yin, and sent a friend request.

Wang Zhong stared, stunned by Jiang Yuan’s smooth operation.

In a group of bachelors, such teasing usually ended with the target backing down. Wang Zhong hadn’t expected Jiang Yuan to not flinch at all.

Worse still, within minutes, Wei Yin had already accepted Jiang Yuan’s request.

Watching Jiang Yuan type effortlessly, Wang Zhong fell into confusion—was my school the wrong one?