Chapter 987

Qi Changye smiled as he shook Jiang Yuan’s hand and said seriously, “Captain Jiang, we meet again.”

“Not exactly good news,” Jiang Yuan replied, shaking hands with Qi Changye and then with his colleagues as well: “Sorry to trouble you all.”

“I’d be glad to have more trouble like yours,” Qi Changye said, then lowered his voice: “I heard you found a codebook?”

“You’ll need to check it,” Jiang Yuan replied, both humble and distancing himself. He had inherited the benefits of Level 5 Cryptography, but such skills were inherently sensitive, and those in espionage were especially wary—he didn’t want them worrying unnecessarily.

Qi Changye naturally needed to inspect it. Codebooks couldn’t be sent over public networks, and none of them had seen the actual item before, so they found a room and retrieved the codebook to examine it.

The codebook brought back by Miao Liyuan was a notebook, filled with pen-written phrases that looked like song lyrics, but in reality were coded equivalents of words, especially numbers and English letters.

The handwriting inside the notebook was somewhat messy, and the book itself was a plain hardcover notebook—the kind common back then.

The several people Qi Changye brought examined it intently: first flipping through it, then taking photos, and soon after making phone calls to coordinate.

After much fuss, Qi Changye finally invited Jiang Yuan, Tao Lu, and Director You into the room. He looked at the three and said: “You all know confidentiality protocols better than I do, so I won’t lecture. Let me state the conclusion: it is indeed a codebook, but it’s copied.”

“A codebook can be copied?” Jiang Yuan asked, knowing Qi Changye wouldn’t say this unless he still intended to use it. He’d worked with them before, so he asked without hesitation.

Qi Changye nodded. “The suspect’s role was likely a go-between—somewhere between peripheral and core—so he needed to know some codes. From our analysis, this codebook was mainly used to place advertisements.”

“Place ads in newspapers using coded language to communicate?” Jiang Yuan asked.

Qi Changye nodded. “Yes. Mostly to coordinate times and locations for intelligence handoffs, and payment amounts…”

“Uh…” Director You suddenly interrupted: “I won’t be involved in this case. You two discuss it.”

With that, Director You nodded to Jiang Yuan and walked out.

Qi Changye made no effort to stop him, only smiled at Jiang Yuan: “Captain Jiang, you can’t just walk away. We still hope you’ll lead this case.”

Jiang Yuan pulled back: “It’s not appropriate for me to organize this. Besides, this case clearly involves espionage networks…”

“You lead the investigation,” Qi Changye said immediately. “If you need any information, we’ll provide it. You’ve followed this case from the start—handing it over to us now, you wouldn’t feel at ease, would you?”

That last remark struck right at Jiang Yuan’s heart.

It wasn’t that Qi Changye’s team lacked investigative skill, but a twenty-year-old case was daunting even for the strongest detectives.

“Let’s start by reviewing the case—what can I learn from my side?” Jiang Yuan sat down and pulled out his phone to send a message to Huang Qiangmin.

Qi Changye pretended not to notice. "We can cross-reference the codebook's entries with old records to see if this was part of a previously uncovered spy network. If not, we'll have to assess the specifics—but frankly, if there's no record, the code clues are essentially dead."

“You said the suspect was a go-between who frequently went to the newspaper office to place ads—can we find records of those advertisers?” Jiang Yuan asked.

Qi Changye shook his head. “Almost impossible—it’s been too long. But we can try searching.”

“Then we still have to approach this from the murder angle,” Jiang Yuan realized now why Qi Changye was so insistent on keeping him involved.

Ultimately, this case was better handled from a criminal investigation standpoint.

Think about it: espionage cases are handled by professionals, and even current ones are hard to solve—how could one possibly solve a twenty-year-old espionage case? The thought alone gave him a headache.

“Call in Director Liu to go over the case together,” Jiang Yuan said without hesitation, dragging Liu Jinghui into it.

Qi Changye agreed.

Soon, Liu Jinghui and Huang Qiangmin entered together.

Liu Jinghui gave a wry smile. “I was planning to go home in one or two weeks.”

“It might not be longer,” Jiang Yuan smiled.

“You have a new lead?” Liu Jinghui asked, slightly surprised.

“No. But if we can’t solve it in one or two weeks, there’s probably no hope left,” Jiang Yuan smiled.

“You’re…” Liu Jinghui sighed. If this were a younger detective, he’d scold him for nonsense—but since it was Jiang Yuan, it was fine.

Qi Changye’s team provided little information, but it was crucial. Liu Jinghui read through it quickly, then fell into thought.

Jiang Yuan took back the codebook and began flipping through it himself.

“The case has now returned to the motive-for-murder approach. At least we’re back on track,” Liu Jinghui said, then: “If someone killed Zhang Xiaoming, what benefit did they gain?”

Liu Jinghui looked at Qi Changye.

“You’re asking me?” Qi Changye pointed to his own nose.

“Yes. From your side: what advantage would killing Zhang Xiaoming bring?” Liu Jinghui paused, then explained: “The previous task force already discussed standard motives: layoffs, Zhang Xiaoming’s personality, romantic jealousy, or prior grudges—including the Zhang family factor. But these weren’t thoroughly examined.”

“Killing him wouldn’t affect the Zhang family—at least, as far as I know,” Qi Changye said immediately. This answer wasn’t easy to give. He only offered it because he trusted Jiang Yuan deeply.

Qi Changye knew this answer would directly steer the investigation. If he wanted to avoid responsibility, he didn’t have to say it—but from an efficiency standpoint, eliminating this false hypothesis was highly effective.

Huang Qiangmin understood instantly and whispered two sentences to Jiang Yuan.

Liu Jinghui continued: “If we eliminate these motives, is there reason to believe Zhang Xiaoming’s death is connected to espionage?”

“What do you think?” Qi Changye countered.

“I think it is,” Liu Jinghui replied efficiently, appreciating Qi Changye’s directness: “Two reasons. First, the killer, Li Dianzhong, had no other motive. Second, his actions suggest he was searching for something from Zhang Xiaoming. What could Zhang Xiaoming possibly have that would warrant a spy to rummage through his home?”

“Intelligence? Zhang Xiaoming had no access to intelligence,” Qi Changye shook his head slightly.

“If not for intelligence…” Liu Jinghui paused only briefly, almost without thought: “Could it be to protect himself?”

“What do you mean?”

“Zhang Xiaoming may have discovered something—or acquired something—that forced them to retrieve it,” Liu Jinghui said, spreading his hands: “I don’t understand espionage, but we’ve already discussed this: killing Zhang Xiaoming outright didn’t need to happen in his home, at that time, in that manner. So something in his home must have been what they wanted to take.”

Qi Changye didn’t disagree with Liu Jinghui, only said: “You just called this a murder case.”

“The person had to die, and the item had to be taken. Now it seems more logical,” Liu Jinghui added, describing Zhang Xiaoming’s injuries: “Li Dianzhong is a professional. If he didn’t want to kill, he’d have other ways to deal with Zhang Xiaoming—masking, avoiding direct confrontation. Ordinary thieves wouldn’t think of this, but professionals always have alternatives.”

“That makes sense… then what did they want?” Qi Changye paused, then muttered to himself: “Did they get it?”