Chapter 80: The Unyielding Bastard

Woof.

Jiang Yuan pushed open the door of the Police Dog Unit and heard Da Zhuang enthusiastically greeting him.

The six officers from the Criminal Science Unit working inside continued lowering their heads and working busily, not lifting their heads at all.

Because the convenience store robbery and fencing case involved too much evidence, under the coordination of Captain Huang Qiang, the Criminal Science Unit moved operations to the Police Dog Unit to process the evidence—taking photos, collecting samples—before returning to the office once everything was secured.

Jiang Yuan had been coming directly to the Police Dog Unit to work these past two days.

Da Zhuang was therefore especially happy, waiting for Jiang Yuan every day and barking loudly the moment he arrived.

Jiang Yuan gently stroked Roan’s head and praised: “Good boy. I’ll give you two extra chicken legs later.”

“Don’t feed him too much. We’ve increased training recently, and he’s barely holding his shape,” Li Li said, emerging from inside after hearing Da Zhuang’s barking.

Jiang Yuan looked at Li Li—indeed, when it came to maintaining her figure, Li Li was unquestionably the top of the Criminal Brigade; though when it came to raising Da Zhuang…

“You ate Da Zhuang’s chicken leg again and forgot to replace it?” Jiang Yuan made the correct deduction.

Li Li and Da Zhuang both drooped their corners slightly, then added: “Your colleague ate it too.”

Jiang Yuan patted Da Zhuang’s head again and sighed: “It’s fine. We’ll get more beef and eggs—it’s just as good.”

Da Zhuang barked once, fully expressing his trust in Jiang Yuan, his complaint against Li Li, his hopes for doghood, his anxiety over humanity’s collective shift, his vigilance toward capitalism, his uncertainty about the tech industry’s future, his confusion and unease toward the modern financial system, and his understanding and judgment of international affairs.

Jiang Yuan patted Da Zhuang’s head again, walked into the courtyard, and saw a row of people all bent over, heads down.

“How’s it going?” Jiang Yuan asked the youngest, Wang Zhong.

Wang Zhong grunted, fully demonstrating the limits of his ability: “Almost done. Two more days.”

“Good, good. Hard work. I’ll get everyone something to eat,” Jiang Yuan said, his spirits high.

This batch of fingerprints entered into the database were all highly relevant to the fencing case, and the potential to uncover more cases from them was very high.

Of course, the officers of the Criminal Science Unit all saw this, which was why they were working so hard.

Jiang Yuan carefully prepared a full meal for everyone, ate with Roan, then joined them in work.

For the past few days, the entire Criminal Brigade had been working relentless overtime.

Concepts like 996 meant nothing in grassroots police stations—it wasn’t that they didn’t exist, just that officers had no voice, weren’t even allowed to speak publicly, and thus remained unknown.

While major internet companies were gradually ending 996, police stations saw even more of it.

Criminals don’t get Sundays, so police work every weekend.

This robbery case was no different. Three men slapped their heads, decided to shave their heads. Three men slapped their heads, decided to rob a convenience store.

Each time they slapped their heads, they added another layer of work for the investigating officers.

Especially since they refused to confess, the officers faced tight deadlines and heavy burdens.

Captain Huang Qiang of the Criminal Brigade was now appearing daily in the main office, asking questions three times a day.

This pressure manifested to its extreme: Huang Qiang no longer had time to wander around the fourth-floor Criminal Science Unit; instead, his voice occasionally echoed from the first and second floors.

“If you can’t find it, don’t come back to see me!”

“Keep interrogating! Why ask me? Confessions must be verified constantly!”

“They’re all going straight to prison—why still resist? Does resistance help?”

Huang Qiang was most furious that the three bald robbers were already finished, yet still refused to confess.

In grassroots police stations, this always felt like an incomplete job.

Even familiar reporters, holding cameras, would put them down and say: “I remember when I interviewed before, suspects always broke down crying after fully confessing—it looked great. Should we shoot a set of these repentant photos…”

Huang Qiang knew what the reporter wanted: the cinematic finale where the criminal admits guilt and weeps.

After all, social education must begin with reflection.

But with these three unyielding, stubborn bastards, Huang Qiang sighed: “It’s only because this situation is rare that you’re being interviewed. Normal criminals usually make excuses and refuse to admit guilt.”

“So can these men admit guilt today?” the reporter pressed, unsatisfied with the brigade captain’s answer.

Huang Qiang shook his head again: “We don’t know yet. We invited you because the fencing case itself is substantial—large scale, involving multiple provinces, with many current and cold cases. It’s worth reporting.”

“Whatever you say, sir,” the reporter replied, obediently.

Huang Qiang could only force a smile—he even wondered if the reporter was mocking him.

But dealing with laypeople was like this. It felt like a suspect’s silence always implied doubt. Sure, some intellectuals cracked after three or five questions—but these dumb robbers? They might not even have a psychological defense to begin with…

Knock knock.

Jiang Yuan knocked and entered.

Huang Qiang’s tense face turned toward Jiang Yuan, relaxing by 22.2 degrees, asking with slightly warmer tone: “Jiang Yuan, how’s it going?”

“We’ve processed all the evidence. Preliminary count: the stolen goods link to at least twenty cases…” Jiang Yuan spoke simply, but the content was explosive.

Huang Qiang misunderstood slightly, thinking Jiang Yuan had merely scanned fingerprints, so he said: “Fencers always involve deeper cases… Right, leave the files here. I’ll sign later.”

Jiang Yuan also had a slight misunderstanding—he thought Huang Qiang was about to handle things on the spot, assign tasks immediately. Huang Qiang did this almost every month: sweeping his hand like a boss, turning the office into a meeting room, treating casual chat as case analysis. It was a very impressive, very stylish workplace performance.

“Wait, I’ll get them brought up,” Jiang Yuan noticed the reporter with the large camera beside Captain Huang, assuming Huang was preparing to show off. He wasn’t surprised and called upstairs.

Soon, seven or eight officers from the Criminal Science Unit each carried one or two large boxes, looking like they’d just been fired, standing before Huang Qiang and stacking the cardboard boxes.

They turned to go back for more.

Huang Qiang quickly stopped them: “What is this…?”

“These are all cases linked to stolen goods where we’ve identified suspects,” Jiang Yuan waved his hand, exhausted but relieved: “Twenty-two cases total, possibly six to ten suspect groups…”

Huang Qiang’s mind filled with question marks:

“Suspects? New suspects?”

“Yes.”

“Twenty-two?”

“Six to ten groups.”

Huang Qiang finally understood, picked up a file, and his mouth curled up at 90 degrees—suddenly, he looked like a satisfied old crocodile.

“You found suspects through the stolen goods?” Huang Qiang asked, hesitating over procedure.

Jiang Yuan nodded: “I’ve noticed many suspects are cautious before and after theft, but relax during fencing—that’s when they leave fingerprints most often. But we’ve matched many, and I’m not sure if we have enough manpower…”

“Enough. I’ll borrow more,” Huang Qiang gritted his teeth, glanced at the reporter, who had set up his camera, then made his usual fierce expression: “Linked cases are like meat skewers—we just need to bite down hard.”

The reporter pulled out his notebook, wrote two paragraphs, then clapped his hands: “Great! Captain Huang, this line—I think we can polish it further…”

Huang Qiang beamed and nodded, until his phone rang, then he bellowed:

“Lao Liu, you owe me.”

“Lao Wang, you owe me.”

“Lao Zhu, you owe me… Oh, wait, I owe you. Never mind, go enjoy yourself.”