Chapter 88: Tomorrow We

“Teacher Jiang, check out this computer—does it work?” Yang Ling led Jiang Yuan straight into an office cubicle at the Image Investigation Division headquarters.

The cubicle had been cleared out: drawers locked, everything on the desk removed, leaving only a computer, mouse, and keyboard.

“We’ve installed all the software you mentioned—why don’t you give it a try? If it doesn’t work… we’ll figure something out.” Yang Ling left a cautious opening, worried.

The Image Investigation Division took their expensive computers seriously; Yang Ling had to plead hard just to borrow this one. If Jiang Yuan said no, she genuinely had no way to get a better one right away.

The provincial bureau’s budget was ample, yes—but buying such expensive electronics required a long, complicated approval process.

During the fingerprint campaign, it was impossible to get one.

Several officers from the Image Investigation Division cast sidelong glances at Jiang Yuan.

From their perspective, Jiang Yuan’s image enhancement work was like brandishing a great sword before Guan Yu.

Some even looked at Jiang Yuan as if he were a clown.

Jiang Yuan paid no attention to anyone’s glances. In his life experience, the only people who ever looked at him and his father with real attention were relatives back in the village—until his family became wealthy due to unforeseen circumstances, and even then, only those same relatives looked at them with real attention.

Everyone else? They looked and acted as if they had nothing to do with him.

Jiang Yuan turned on the computer, launched the software, opened the campaign-specific folder, pulled up a fingerprint smeared like a puddle, then switched to Photoshop to begin preliminary processing.

“I Possess a Scroll of Ghost and God Records”

A fingerprint smeared like a puddle—elegantly put, it was a smear as messy as feces. The purpose of the software was to trace the ridges within the mess, wipe away the unwanted gunk, ideally wash it clean.

The process was complex, often requiring layer-by-layer work, mainly to avoid overdoing it and washing away the useful details along with the trash.

Photoshop had layer functions, sharpening, noise reduction—but it was still inadequate for smears this bad.

Fortunately, there were many other image enhancement techniques, even specialized algorithms for boosting detail. Jiang Yuan rolled up his sleeves and got to work; the new host machine began whirring loudly.

No matter how advanced or expensive a microcomputer, when processing complex images, it could only scream.

It was like a 50-kilogram girl—no matter how well-trained, how high-end her gear—suddenly forced to wrestle a 150-kilogram opponent: she could only howl.

“Looks promising. It’ll probably take a while longer.” Jiang Yuan stood up and spoke to Yang Ling beside him.

Yang Ling, hearing the machine’s deafening roar, rubbed her ears and asked, “Is this really okay? The noise is still so loud.”

“That’s just how image processing works,” said several technicians from the Image Investigation Division who had gathered nearby—now finally getting a chance to speak. “Our machine’s noise is loud, but it’s normal. Your old machines probably squealed themselves to death.”

“There was that high-pitched screech,” Yang Ling recalled, nodding.

“And this machine saves a lot of time compared to yours. It rarely crashes. If you need to check something, you can even multitask—but we don’t recommend it… If Teacher Jiang needs it, you could open another computer—one for image processing, one just for office work…” The technician smiled, utterly unfazed by the machine’s howl.

Yang Ling had been slightly annoyed by the Image Investigation Division’s coldness earlier, but now hearing “Teacher Jiang,” she looked up—and saw that these technicians, moments ago with faces like they’d seen something foul, now all had faces like they’d just eaten it.

Yang Ling’s brow furrowed sharply: “One computer’s enough. If we need more later, we’ll come back.”

Saying this, Yang Ling turned and led Jiang Yuan away.

The technicians blinked in surprise. One immediately urged, “Don’t rush—the image isn’t done yet!”

“No problem. We’ll send someone later to move the computer.”

“The computer can stay here. Teacher Jiang can work right here—it’s just one desk… Our junior Yu makes the best coffee…”

“During the fingerprint campaign, experts work centrally,” Yang Ling said, without hesitation, pushing open the door and ushering Jiang Yuan out, not a second’s pause.

“The computer in the main office might be too noisy,” Jiang Yuan said calmly, walking slowly, then raising a new request.

If possible, he didn’t want to disturb other fingerprint experts.

Yang Ling nodded: “True. How about this—the tea room next to the main office is spacious. I’ll have someone clear out the printer area and move the computer in there. We’ll move the printers out too—won’t bother anyone else. It’ll just be a hassle for Teacher Jiang to keep coming back and forth…”

“That’s perfect,” Jiang Yuan said, satisfied. He hadn’t expected a private office—that would be too detached from the group—but he still asked politely: “Won’t this be too much trouble?”

“Not at all. I’ll explain it to everyone—they’ll understand.” Yang Ling pulled out her phone and started arranging it.

Back in the main office, Jiang Yuan returned to his desk. After a short wait, someone installed the borrowed Image Investigation Division computer in place.

Jiang Yuan went over to retrieve the newly processed fingerprint image, then returned to his desk and began marking feature points on it.

When he couldn’t get results here, he returned to the tea room to reprocess the image, then came back to the main office to mark feature points.

The host machine’s roar came intermittently—now far less disruptive than before, well within acceptable limits.

Still, to a few senior trace evidence officers, Jiang Yuan’s special treatment was slightly hard to swallow.

But the thought only drifted through their minds. Originally, dozens of independent technical experts, each enjoying exceptional treatment in their own units—Jiang Yuan wasn’t getting special treatment for nothing.

The reason for his special treatment hung right on the wall.

Three case resolutions, tied for second place. One of them was a homicide case.

Although the fingerprint campaign rankings didn’t specially distinguish homicides, detectives naturally held homicide cases in higher regard.

Time passed in the clatter of keyboards and the machine’s roar. By quitting time, most provincial bureau staff went home on schedule. But the detectives borrowed from across the country kept working.

The fingerprint experts in the main office showed no sign of leaving to rest.

The bureau provided single rooms, but these experts hadn’t traveled thousands of miles to Changyang City just to sleep in a single bed.

And as of today, at least half the experts still hadn’t matched a single fingerprint. Of the rest, most had matched only one.

Naturally, no one was satisfied. In fact, if a few people started pushing themselves, a whole crowd would follow.

Who wasn’t an expert here?

Even Jiang Yuan had no intention of leaving.

Three case resolutions weren’t nearly enough. After mastering his new skills, Jiang Yuan’s confidence had grown stronger.

The smeared fingerprint from noon had been processed repeatedly without a match—Jiang Yuan wasn’t discouraged. He picked up another smeared fingerprint and kept working.

He repeated the process again and again—until, at midnight, a half-destroyed fingerprint appeared before him.

“Match confirmed.”

Jiang Yuan marked it without hesitation—but in the main office, only a few faint “ding-dong” chimes sounded.

Those still in the main office were all trace evidence officers determined to break through—none wanted their focus broken, and few cared about others’ results.

Jiang Yuan rested for ten minutes, drank some tea, then returned to find only two “agree” marks in the lower-right corner of the screen.

Seeing this, Jiang Yuan wasn’t anxious about whether others had confirmed the match, nor about going back to rest—he selected another fingerprint and began processing again.

If they were going to grind, let them all grind. After all, among these dozens, he was still the youngest.

3:00 a.m. Jiang Yuan matched his fifth fingerprint of the campaign.

5:00 a.m. Jiang Yuan matched his sixth.

7:00 a.m. Jiang Yuan matched his seventh.

By now, even the most intense experts had returned to their dorms hours ago—it was impossible to get eleven “agrees.”

Jiang Yuan looked around: the main office was empty. Only the computer in the tea room still emitted its final roar.

Only then did Jiang Yuan return to his dorm, fully satisfied.

Everything will be decided tomorrow.

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