Chapter 90: The Wind Has Risen

The wind has risen.

Li Zemin lit a White Sand cigarette and stood in the corridor, gazing gloomily at the sky.

Heaven above, earth below, dust swirling wildly, the world a murky haze as if demons danced in chaos. Sand and stones flew through the air, fine grains blanketing everything, buildings blurred beyond recognition, as if malevolent sorcerers roamed unchecked…

A human figure trudged slowly from afar, steps firm, movements deliberate, each footprint sinking deep—as if a giant, a titan, a thunder god descending, or Section Chief Yang Ling.

“Whoa, take it easy!” Li Zemin immediately tossed his cigarette and caught Yang Ling before she could fall.

“Thank you,” Yang Ling brushed the dust off her clothes, failing to clean it all, and sighed helplessly: “The wind’s too strong.”

“Tell me about it—my cigarette blew right out of my hand,” Li Zemin muttered, regretful. That White Sand cost eleven yuan—he’d bought it himself. Thinking of it, he added: “I just thought it was Jiang Yuan coming back. His computer’s been offline; I wonder if he even got the timing right.”

“He’ll be back soon—he’s eating.”

“Huh? Is there food in the cafeteria now?” Li Zemin blinked.

“He ordered takeout. The guard wouldn’t let it in, so I went to get it,” Yang Ling shook the sand off her body, then added: “He ordered Japanese—398 or 388 yuan set. He’ll probably show up after eating.”

“Didn’t you join him? Wait—didn’t he invite you?”

“Heh,” Yang Ling knew Li Zemin was teasing her, and replied openly: “I can’t stand sashimi. I’ve never gotten used to it—and my family hasn’t been relocated either.”

Li Zemin laughed heartily: “I’m used to Zhonghua cigarettes, I just feel awkward taking them outright.”

“You’ve got a shy side?” Yang Ling wasn’t close to Li Zemin, but she knew these fingerprint analysts—all of them had the desire to steal but lacked the nerve, heavier on their seats than veteran detectives, fewer cheeky remarks, fond of acting overly familiar and overly intimate.

Li Zemin indeed laughed with genuine delight.

Yang Ling stepped back into the main office, glanced at the “Case Resolution Ranking,” and saw Zhu Huan’s name now had five solved cases.

But the gap between him and Jiang Yuan’s seven remained stark.

Yang Ling mulled over various thoughts, said nothing, opened the computer linked to the projector, inserted a USB drive, and began operating.

Moments later, another ranking appeared beside the “Case Resolution Ranking.”

“Homicide Case Accumulation Ranking.”

At the top remained Jiang Yuan, with two solved homicides.

Yes—besides the taxi robbery-murder with the bloody handprint, Jiang Yuan had also cracked another homicide case last night.

The second and third spots belonged to two other experts, each having solved one homicide, both cases emerging from last night to today.

Zhu Huan’s solved cases contained no homicides; he sat among the many other experts at the bottom.

Only three people had solved cases on the entire “Homicide Case Accumulation Ranking,” yet Yang Ling was quite satisfied.

She hadn’t released this ranking earlier, fearing too few solved homicides would look bad—but now she’d released it because four solved homicide cases felt more than enough.

In past years, a fingerprint campaign that solved even one homicide was considered a success.

Even the ministry’s nationwide fingerprint campaign, gathering the nation’s top fingerprint experts, had solved few homicide cases.

The provincial bureau’s campaign set lower targets: solving homicides was ideal, but not the sole goal… unless the number reached a certain expectation.

For example, four homicides?

Yang Ling beamed at the “Homicide Case Accumulation Ranking” on the wall. She didn’t need to say a word—every expert in the office surely understood her thoughts.

Wooo…

The computer in the break room buzzed again, its sound rising from a whisper to a shriek, then erupting into an unbridled howl.

Jiang Yuan entered the office. His tall frame blocked the projector briefly, then he walked over, nodded to Yang Ling, returned to his seat, inserted his USB drive, and copied out the images processed by his computer over the past few hours.

Jiang Yuan examined each marked image one by one.

Yang Ling walked over, smiled at Jiang Yuan, and said: “Jiang Teacher, are you tired? You could rest a bit longer.”

Zhu Huan nearby thought the same, even nodding unconsciously.

Jiang Yuan, in the casual manner of a young man, replied: “I’m tired, sure—but it’s fine. I see everyone’s working late…”

“Not as late as you,” Li Zemin pointed at the rankings: “You’ve got both top spots. What’s the rush?”

Yang Ling coughed twice, turned to Li Zemin: “Expert Li, every fingerprint Jiang Teacher matches means one case solved, one victim and their family find comfort, one or more criminals punished…”

“I’m wrong, I’m wrong!” Li Zemin apologized quickly.

Yang Ling smiled again and said to Jiang Yuan: “Jiang Teacher, let me update you on the further progress of these cases.”

Jiang Yuan’s attention was instantly drawn.

Detectives, no matter how busy, never stopped caring about cases. Fingerprint analysts were the same—all driven by case resolution. Here, every expert shared this goal: they hoped their work would aid investigations, and if it became a critical breakthrough or evidence, the sense of accomplishment grew stronger.

Yang Ling didn’t mention honors or bonuses—she had none ready, and wasn’t even sure any would come—but she knew talking about cases alone was enough to satisfy these fingerprint analysts.

Even the province’s strongest fingerprint experts were just as mundane.

Yang Ling stood before Jiang Yuan, speaking clearly but softly: “First, your second homicide match. This is likely a premeditated murder. The fingerprint you matched is suspected to belong to the victim’s lover. Local detectives have gone to arrest him; further details should come tomorrow…”

“Love triangle murder?” Jiang Yuan only now learned the fingerprint’s target.

Yang Ling nodded: “This case is six years old. I checked in when I came over—the victim’s wife and her lover likely broke up. The man died for nothing…”

She then described the other three cases, finishing in under ten minutes.

When she finished and left, Jiang Yuan felt an endless surge of motivation.

“Let’s get to work,” Jiang Yuan sat upright and began refining the copied fingerprint images.

He was now quite proficient; these were already clean, basic images. Ten to twenty minutes of refinement was enough to make them usable.

Like standard fingerprint marking, refined fingerprints were first annotated with key points, then system-matched… the difference being: if no match emerged, the image was pulled back for further refinement, then re-annotated…

Compared to ordinary fingerprint images, these required extra processing—more complex, more time-consuming.

But precisely because these blurred images were so difficult to handle, once clarified, the chance of a match increased—since county and city-level forensic units lacked the ability to process such images, leaving them no basis for comparison. Unlike clear images, already matched countless times, where no match truly meant no match.

After reviewing fewer than a thousand fingerprint images, Jiang Yuan matched his first fingerprint of the day.

Seeing the “Case Resolution Ranking” update to eight solved cases, Jiang Yuan didn’t pause.

He didn’t continue matching along the easy path—he scanned case files, then selected a homicide fingerprint from the later images.

This was a body-dumping case: the victim died by strangulation, no suspect found. The fingerprint was lifted from the victim’s neck—its clarity was abysmal, yet because it was critical, multiple experts had attempted matching before finally giving up.

As previously stated, homicide fingerprint matching always occupied a higher tier.

Jiang Yuan, now mentally relaxed, suddenly felt a strong urge to challenge another homicide fingerprint.

Push to a new height!

Download the app for unlimited free reading!