Chapter 78: Ultraviolet Reflection

Whether he was convinced or not, the youngest man was still singled out, and his WeChat Moments were examined item by item to identify stolen goods.

Wei Zhenguo, taking advantage of his youth, threatened: “If you don’t admit it, every item you sold in your Moments counts as one theft and one fencing charge—multiple crimes, aggravated punishment. When you get out, if you still have any hair left, come find me and chat.”

The young man, though defeated, refused to show weakness, gritting his teeth: “This is unreasonable… Besides, why are you targeting just me?”

“Then who should I target?” Wei Zhenguo gestured with his chin.

The young man turned and saw the middle-aged man in LV glaring at him like a dog—his courage instantly wilted.

Wei Zhenguo laughed heartily and called over Wang Wang: “See if you can sniff out his belongings—we’ll pin a heavy charge on him.”

He was treating this guy as the breakthrough point.

Among everyone present, if even one cracked, the rest would face even harsher sentences no matter how hard they held out.

This logic wasn’t just clear to Wei Zhenguo—all the suspects understood it too, but they could only glare, speechless.

Da Zhuang, dressed in a black training vest, let out a loud “Woof!” and began searching the stolen goods with impressive seriousness.

Li Li, holding Da Zhuang’s leash, solemnly picked out each item.

The young man beside them grew increasingly rigid-faced.

Wei Zhenguo feigned a sigh: “We used to see fencing thieves all the time at night markets—now it’s completely different. They sell directly through WeChat Moments, complete with records. By the way, check his payment history—fencing amounts can be directly calculated.”

The remaining middle-aged men were the owners of the Nongjia Academy; now they too were listening, veins bulging, eyes full of confusion.

Indeed, what’s wrong with today’s youth?

Have they become so casual about being thieves?

Do they really think posting stolen goods on WeChat Moments means they’ll never get caught?

Wei Zhenguo grinned at their expressions: “Didn’t expect this, did you? You’re still thinking how to hide it—but they’re openly selling stolen goods in their Moments. I bet if I check my phone later, I’ll find messages where he admits these are stolen. Might even drag you into it.”

He was speaking to the man in LV.

The LV middle-aged man struggled to say: “I really don’t know him.”

“New model—chat records are enough,” Wei Zhenguo held up his phone.

The LV middle-aged man’s expression turned grim. He didn’t know the young man well, but this transaction had indeed been confirmed via WeChat.

He had prepared some counter-investigation measures—but this single young man could send him to prison for years.

Suddenly, Wei Zhenguo remembered what his daughter had said a few days ago, and he smiled: “Everyone says today’s youth are here to cleanse the workplace. I think it works—use WeChat Moments to sweep away all your petty scheming…”

The genuine young people present all turned their gazes toward him. Was “cleansing the workplace” supposed to mean this? Was it used like this?

…

When they arrived, everything had been neat and orderly; now, returning, they were messy and disheveled.

Seven suspects total were transported back in seven cars. There were no professional prisoner vans—standard procedure was two officers in the backseat, flanking one suspect with handcuffs.

Experienced cops would pick and choose, taking the frail suspects into their own cars, sitting on either side, pinching the suspect’s arms—feeling perfectly comfortable.

Young men like Wang Chaoyang had no choice—they waited until the veteran detectives picked their preferred suspects, then got shoved into whatever car remained, windows rolled down, eyes blank, mind calm and cool.

Jiang Yuan stayed longer at the Nongjia Academy.

He first wiped down the entire scene.

In Jiang Yuan’s view, since this place had long served as a fencing hub, anyone who’d been here might be connected to the case.

The fingerprints he collected might not match immediately—but that didn’t matter. If these people committed crimes elsewhere, or even just made one more careless mistake, the fingerprints left here could expose them.

After handling fingerprints for years, one gradually develops a noble sense of “everyone for me, I for everyone.” You can’t avoid it—your collected fingerprints, after processing and stored in the database, rarely match on the spot. And the matches you do get? Eight out of ten come from fingerprints others have stored.

Once fingerprint experts finish local prints, they inevitably end up working on prints from other regions—eventually, most of their time is spent working for others.

Wang Zhong, Yan Ge, and several on-site investigators all quietly helped Jiang Yuan wipe fingerprints.

In past cases like this, they’d handled scenes carelessly—nothing to be said about it; their skills were limited, and whether they did a good or bad job made little difference to them.

But Jiang Yuan truly had the ability to process fingerprints.

Moreover, Jiang Yuan’s fingerprint-processing skill had reached a high level—this was crucial. A 60-point expert could barely complete the work; initiative was minimal, and since human energy and time were limited, even a 60-point expert couldn’t handle all routine cases, let alone waste effort on unnecessary ones.

Even a 70-point expert, aware of limited accuracy, wouldn’t bother with mass comparisons on minor cases.

Only at Jiang Yuan’s level—upon a single glance, knowing instantly whether he could extract usable prints—was it worthwhile to invest large amounts of time and energy into minor cases.

Of course, Wang Zhong and Yan Ge didn’t think that far—they only knew Jiang Yuan could do it, and now he was willing to do it. That was enough.

While everyone began fingerprinting, Jiang Yuan’s methods gradually influenced the others.

In the past, officers like Wang Zhong would dust for prints with silver powder, magnetic powder, or sometimes just sticky tape.

But when Jiang Yuan first heard the sharp “rip” of tape being torn at the scene, he walked over.

“Is this a metal plate with a coating?” Jiang Yuan glanced and said: “Sticking directly won’t work well.”

“It can be lifted, but it often comes off incomplete,” the on-site investigator muttered, embarrassed. He was a self-taught technician who knew his work was basic but didn’t know how to make it better.

Jiang Yuan spoke only of technique, nothing else. After a brief observation, he said: “First, use UV light.”

“Can UV reflection make it visible?” The officer had never considered this.

Jiang Yuan said: “Approximately. If the print is mostly sweat-based, differing absorption rates create strong contrast. If not, then use magnetic powder, fluorescent powder, or 502 glue—but since UV is non-destructive, start with UV.”

“Oh… like that.” The officer felt he’d learned something but was too shy to say so—he just followed instructions.

Others nearby watched silently; soon, when the UV light revealed clear fingerprints, they all quietly noted it down.