Chapter 981

“Old Cui’s a piece of shit… but he’s got a point.”

Tao Lu sent Old Cui and the others out, then watched his back and said, “Say what you will, Old Cui has some instinct. Kind of like a sixth sense.”

“That’s impressive, right?” Liu Jinghui asked.

“I don’t know if it’s impressive, but we’ve run into this several times already.” Tao Lu was mainly explaining to Song Tiancheng and the branch leadership, also picking up a batch of strange knowledge along the way.

“Actually, it’s not strange—some cases and people just have too many coincidences,” Song Tiancheng said with a lofty, useless remark.

Liu Jinghui, an outsider from Beijing, chuckled: “I’ve actually met plenty of weird people—some really do have something to them. Intuition, for instance—some folks are just more sensitive than others.”

Tao Lu let out a hollow laugh: “If we cops start talking like this, we’ll be accused of superstition.”

Liu Jinghui thought, Like Beijing doesn’t believe in superstition. He shifted tone, following Beijing’s preferred style: “This can be explained scientifically too. The mystical version: high-dimensional projection, dark matter influence. The more realistic version: magnetic field effects, like pigeons. The most basic version: experience models or unique physiological structures—like wild boars finding truffles.”

Hearing this, Tao Lu nodded in agreement—he believed Cui Qi was definitely in the last category.

“If Old Cui can dig up the Kite’s body, that’d be really interesting,” Tao Lu said, though his expression showed no hint of amusement.

This case was a nightmare! If another witness died, it’d become an absolute nightmare!

Liu Jinghui comforted him: “Not likely—it’s been over twenty years. Where are you going to dig up a corpse?”

A faint sigh came from behind: “Don’t worry—even if Captain Cui digs up the Kite’s body, we wouldn’t recognize him.”

The speaker was Xiao Si, sitting in the corner, flipping through old case files and documents. Cui Qi didn’t want him tagging along, so he dumped him in Jiang Yuan’s team—no loss either way. If Jiang Yuan dared to borrow him, Cui Qi would ship him out.

Tao Lu listened, feeling constipated.

He felt constipated because Xiao Si was right.

Yes, even now, neither police nor suspects knew what the Kite looked like, nor did they have his fingerprints or DNA. Wang Futing had seen the Kite, but he hadn’t studied him closely, wasn’t good at remembering faces, and after all these years, he couldn’t recall what the Kite even looked like.

Actually, what he looked like didn’t matter. Only Jiang Yuan’s cranial reconstruction technique made discussing appearance even possible—otherwise, whether the Kite was alive or dead had nothing to do with his appearance. Not even considering how common plastic surgery and makeup have become.

Thinking of all these possibilities, Jiang Yuan shook his head silently and went back to the files.

He didn’t oppose Tao Lu’s strategy—sometimes, sheer luck could still knock out the master. In fact, most criminal investigations don’t need finesse; just throw punches randomly, and you’ll crack it anyway.

The technological revolution of the 21st century had become so advanced that even people who didn’t understand tech could fumble around and feel like everything was simple—everything looked like a shoddy setup.

But the stage was already set. Just send a few people up to sing and dance, and maybe it’ll work.

Like many cases today—the word “solve” feels too weak. Just scan with the police system, and the result pops up instantly. What truly tests detectives now are issues like civilized law enforcement and evidence compliance.

But the Jianmen Academy case was the opposite.

It was a cold homicide case, and because the victim, Zhang Xiaoya, was a grandson of the Zhang family, the case had maximum resources allocated on one hand, but its investigative direction was severely restricted on the other.

Anything tied to politics is a headache—especially criminal cases, which are supposed to pursue truth, but what truth is there in politics? Politics is only about picking sides.

If Zhang Xiaoya’s death truly involved political motives, even Jiang Yuan would struggle to investigate.

Precisely speaking, investigating politically sensitive cases requires even more accurate investigation.

True, Jiang Yuan could ask Zhang Xiaoya, Zhang Xiaoya’s sister, for a flood of related information—given his current status, she’d likely agree. But without prior accurate investigation, what information should she even provide?

How would she judge which details were worth revealing and which weren’t?

In ordinary criminal cases, police demand full disclosure. In interrogation rooms, officers ask with extreme detail—far beyond normal conversation. The breadth is even wider. As for what’s useful or useless in the case—

And in a situation like the Zhang family’s, with Zhang Xiaoya’s status, she knows a lot—but should she reveal it all?

Some things she might want to say, but others wouldn’t want to hear.

On the other hand, many political-related details are inherently subjective—often compiled from rumors, or, more politely, from aggregated and reanalyzed information from interested parties.

Should these subjective reports be disclosed? And how truthful are they?

But if you don’t mention these subjective reports, what do you mention? For example: Was Zhang Xiaoya’s death caused by Zhang family enemies? Who are those enemies? There’s no objective answer to that question.

So even if Zhang Xiaoya ultimately needs to answer questions, Jiang Yuan must first know what those questions are.

The answers can only be dug out from the files.

He read for an entire day.

The next day, he kept reading.

Forensic science is fundamentally just a technique. Saying solving cases is like doing math problems is flippant, but the basic process is exactly that.

Jiang Yuan pored over the files, hoping to gather more known conditions—or find a path to crack the case from existing data.

These two tasks were done together; occasionally, Jiang Yuan received briefings from others—rough summaries of the files they’d read.

This helped Jiang Yuan grasp the case’s overall picture; if interested, he could dive deeper into specific documents.

Meanwhile, more information arrived—especially newly photographed images, flooding in constantly, with freshly restored film reels arriving intermittently.

Jiang Yuan had been reading for two days when, at noon—without warning, without anyone prompting—he fixed his gaze on a close-up photo of grease residue.

The grease came from the victim’s fingernails—not unusual. The victim, Zhang Xiaoya, worked at a self-built offset printing shop that produced internal propaganda materials, a place he frequently visited.

Also, the print quality of offset materials back then was unstable; even without visiting the shop, merely handling printed materials occasionally left such grease under the nails.

But it was extremely rare for grease to be found only under the fingernails while all other parts of both hands remained clean.

Jiang Yuan flipped through the crime scene photos again, then pulled up Wang Futing’s statement and read it carefully.

If today’s investigation had any advantage over twenty years ago, Wang Futing was the main one. He was the sole eyewitness, though his value was limited, his ability limited…

Regarding the murder process, though it lasted only moments, the interrogating officers had diligently recorded extremely detailed accounts.

Jiang Yuan quickly found the description of physical contact between killer and victim.

At the moment Zhang Xiaoya fell, he likely briefly touched the killer—at least, according to Wang Futing’s account, he had made contact.

Thus, if the grease residue truly transferred from the killer, the killer was very likely a colleague.

This could explain many things: why the killer attacked immediately upon seeing the victim, why no suspect was found in Jianmen Academy despite heavy foot traffic.

But this single trace of grease was still insufficient.

Jiang Yuan thought for a moment, then called Wang Chuanxing: “Do a statistical analysis: among those who worked with Zhang Xiaoya, who later rose to prominence… Wait, hold on—first, find out how many people who once lived in Jianmen Academy later rose to prominence!”

This direct method of seeking beneficiaries was an advantage unavailable back then.