Chapter 48

Surveillance continued as before.

The next morning, Tan Yong finally came downstairs and got into his Pajero. Following him from behind felt like tailing a squad leader to work.

Mu Zhiyang followed as usual; after walking a short while, he sharply slapped Wei Zhenguo awake in the passenger seat—hard enough to carry a hint of personal grudge.

“What?” Wei Zhenguo jolted awake.

“Tan Yong changed his route. This isn’t the way to his office.” Mu Zhiyang said.

Over the past few days, they’d followed Tan Yong’s car daily and memorized his route perfectly.

Wei Zhenguo stared at the endless stream of traffic for several seconds, then immediately called the other team to assemble.

Jiang Yuan sat up straight, watching curiously ahead.

Surveillance and tailing—he’d only ever seen such things in movies and TV dramas. But over these past two days… it was just ordinary.

In Changyang City, the capital, traffic during rush hour routinely clogged six-lane roads in both directions. A driver in front could barely notice two cars behind him, let alone distinguish between five identical Volkswagens parked around him—especially since Wei Zhenguo had chosen a white Class A Volkswagen. Thanks to its identical “matryoshka” design, non-car enthusiasts couldn’t tell the exact model of any Volkswagen in front, behind, or beside them.

Tan Yong clearly had no counter-surveillance experience. He’d carefully check his surroundings when getting in or out of the car, even inspect his tires—but that was all. While driving, he showed no caution: never changed lanes deliberately, never timed his movements around traffic lights.

Mu Zhiyang followed Tan Yong effortlessly, watching him circle around to the market, buy some groceries, stuff them into the trunk, then drive back…

Wei Zhenguo wiped his face with a tissue soaked in mineral water and said solemnly: “Keep watching that freak’s ass.”

…

Tan Yong drove his car into a residential complex less than a kilometer from his home.

The complex was somewhat aged, with no pedestrian-vehicle separation. When Tan Yong’s car reached the gate, it paused briefly, and the barrier rose automatically.

“Park on the roadside. I’ll follow on foot. Stay on the phone.” Wei Zhenguo spoke quickly, opened the door, and stepped out.

Jiang Yuan also opened his door and followed.

Wei Zhenguo hesitated. “Jiang the forensic doctor, you stick with Mu Zhiyang.”

“I’ll help you. It’s too dangerous alone.” Jiang Yuan knew Wei Zhenguo feared for his safety. Compared to Mu Zhiyang, a police academy graduate and seasoned detective, his field skills were weak—but letting Wei Zhenguo go alone was even riskier.

Without weapons or gear, tracking one man with two people still offered a relatively high safety margin.

Wei Zhenguo licked his lips, said nothing, and waved Jiang Yuan forward. Once inside the complex, he whispered: “Stay right behind me. Don’t act on your own.”

He was older now. Any talk of solo combat capability was pure nonsense. His youthful strength was gone; facing Tan Yong—a man who regularly worked construction sites—he had little confidence.

Wei Zhenguo sprinted ahead without hesitation. The complex’s main pedestrian entrance was wide open, its landscaping mediocre, the whole place showing the decay of a well-used neighborhood.

Jiang Yuan ran in after him, still able to see the Pajero’s rear taillights in the distance.

“Hurry up,” Wei Zhenguo panted, glancing sideways at Tan Yong’s car as they sprinted past a building.

Jiang Yuan ran even faster but didn’t overtake too far ahead, afraid of being spotted.

Fortunately, the complex was small. The Pajero drove only two or three hundred meters before slowing again, turning into a building at the complex’s corner.

Tan Yong got out, lowered the ground lock, reversed into a fixed parking spot in front of the first-floor greenery. Then he unlocked the latch on the fence before the small front garden and opened the inner security door—it was a first-floor residence with a front garden.

“Building 7. Only one unit. The northernmost apartment on the first floor of Unit 1. Send the info to Mu Zhiyang.” Wei Zhenguo gasped like an ox, leaning on his knees, eyes fixed on Tan Yong from behind a cluster of roses.

Jiang Yuan was also exhausted, half-kneeling on the ground as he quickly sent the message. Then, peering through the evergreens at Wei Zhenguo’s grim face, he thought: flowers and cow dung—perfect match.

“Rice, flour, oil, salt, vegetables, meat—all food,” Wei Zhenguo muttered, frowning as he watched Tan Yong unload. “He’s divorced, no kids, parents live in the countryside. Why bring so much food here? Something’s wrong.”

Jiang Yuan asked: “What now?”

“We can’t arrest him yet. Without evidence, we’d just scare him off.” Wei Zhenguo pulled out his phone and began typing a message. “Tell Mu Zhiyang to get back in the car and keep following Tan Yong. I’ll find a lockpick.”

He intended to see what was inside the house himself.

Jiang Yuan obeyed. Meanwhile, Mu Zhiyang had just entered the complex, checked his phone, and had to turn around and sprint back to the parking spot—exhausted even more.

About half an hour later, Tan Yong finished unloading, got back in his car, and drove home.

Wei Zhenguo reminded Mu Zhiyang, watched Tan Yong leave, then began circling Building 7.

Jiang Yuan, confused, whispered: “So what are we doing now…?”

“Look for cameras. These days, they’re cheap as dirt.” Wei Zhenguo scanned the area, found nothing, then called someone else.

Wen Ming, a detective from Ningtai County who had come with them, arrived with the lockpick man at Building 7.

“Open the door,” Wei Zhenguo ordered directly.

The lockpick man, carrying a large toolbox, seemed familiar with Wei Zhenguo. He glanced at him and whispered: “Don’t get me in trouble.”

“What trouble could there be?” Wei Zhenguo barked. They’d come this far—what was there to fear now?

The security door’s lock was high-quality. The lockpick man struggled for a long while before finally opening it—only to find another security door inside.

“This lock’s junk. Good door alone doesn’t help.” The lockpick man muttered.

Wei Zhenguo frowned, impatient. He asked offhandedly: “Did he buy these doors? How much did they cost?”

“Both doors? If he bought them, maybe ten thousand. If he didn’t, twenty or thirty thousand.” The lockpick man said.

“His monthly salary’s only a few thousand,” Wei Zhenguo grunted, bolstering his own confidence.

The door opened.

Inside was a standard four-bedroom, one-living-room layout.

Changyang City’s housing prices weren’t cheap, but this complex was old. If bought during its initial sale over a decade ago, it likely cost only a few hundred thousand.

“Spread out and search,” Wei Zhenguo said, frowning at the ordinary residential interior, slightly lost.

But for Jiang Yuan, this was a simple crime scene.

After circling the room, Jiang Yuan pulled out his phone and took several photos, then lifted the rug between the balcony and living room. “There’s a basement.”

A wooden sliding door appeared before the three of them.