Attending ex-girlfriend's wedding, arresting the groom's officer on the spot

The first group entered "Moyun Tattoo" on a bustling commercial street in the city center. The neon lights inside flickered eerily, and the walls were covered with tattoo designs of various styles. The owner, a young man with dreadlocks and arms covered in colorful tattoos, glanced at a photo and said impatiently, "We stopped doing these outdated designs a long time ago. 3D realism and watercolor styles are in fashion now. Who still gets this kind of flame lotus tattoo?" When the group members pressed him on whether he had seen similar designs, he simply shook his head, looked down at his phone, and ignored them.

In the dilapidated alleys of the old town, the second group found a small shop called "Dark Night Tattoo." The shop reeked of pungent paint, and the lighting was dim. The owner was a middle-aged man with a weathered face. He carefully examined the photo, frowning, "This design looks familiar, but I can't quite place it." The group members were delighted and quickly pressed him for details, but the man pondered for a long time before finally shaking his head helplessly, "It's been too long, I really can't remember."

Over three days, they visited more than 100 tattoo shops, ranging from upscale, trendy studios to humble street stalls, from bustling commercial districts to remote urban villages. At each shop, the team members had to repeat the same questions and show the same photos, but they mostly received shake-heads and negative answers.

The team members gradually showed signs of fatigue and frustration. Intern Xiao Li couldn't help but complain, "Team Leader Zhang, there are just too many tattoo shops in Haizhou City. At this rate, when will we ever finish investigating? Besides, it seems like none of us remember anything. Maybe this tattoo wasn't even done in Haizhou."

Although Zhang Hui was also somewhat anxious, he still mustered his spirits to encourage everyone: "Don't be discouraged. Even if there's only a one in ten thousand chance, we must investigate to the end. Maybe the next store will be the turning point. Everyone, be more careful, talk to the store owners more, and look for clues from their work experience."

On the fourth day, the rain continued to fall. Zhang Hui led his team to a farmers' market near the outskirts of the city. There was an inconspicuous tattoo stall there, with a tattered tarpaulin serving as a sunshade. Some simple tattoo tools were displayed on the stall, and several faded tattoo designs were pasted on a wooden board next to it.

The stall owner was an elderly man with gray hair, wearing a faded vest, sitting on a small stool smoking. Zhang Hui walked up to him, handed him the photo, and patiently explained his purpose. The old man slowly took the photo, squinted at it for a while, and suddenly slapped his thigh: "Hey! I recognize this pattern!"

Everyone was shocked. Zhang Hui quickly asked, "Grandpa, please tell me, what happened?"

The old man threw his cigarette butt on the ground and stomped it out. He recalled, "It was about seven or eight years ago when a man came to me for a tattoo. He said he wanted a special design but didn't want to spend too much money. So I designed this flaming lotus according to his request. At the time, he also said that the design should be tattooed on his waist and not too conspicuous."

"Do you still remember what that man looked like?" Zhang Hui asked eagerly.

"I can't quite remember what he looked like, but I do remember he was a middle-aged man with dark skin and a slight accent from another region. Oh, right!" The old man suddenly remembered something, "He had a lot of calluses on his hands, so he must have done manual labor."

Zhang Hui immediately took out the deceased's photo: "Grandpa, take a look, is this the person?" The old man took the photo, examined it for a long time, and said hesitantly, "The face doesn't quite look like him. After all, so many years have passed, and people change. But the figure looks somewhat similar, and the kind of demeanor he had when he did manual labor is similar to what I saw back then."

This discovery thrilled Zhang Hui and his team. They immediately began questioning the old man in detail, trying to find out the specifics of the tattoo, the time of its creation, and whether the man had revealed any other information. Although the old man could only provide limited clues, it was undoubtedly a major breakthrough, bringing new hope to the case.

Zhang Hui immediately reported the situation to Lu Chuan. Lu Chuan's tone was serious on the phone: "Continue to dig deeper, start with the old man, and see if you can find more information about that man. At the same time, expand the scope of the investigation, visit the surrounding shops and residents, maybe someone knows the deceased."

Zhang Hui put down the phone, looking at the still-rainy sky with a determined gaze. He knew that although this was just a small clue, following it could potentially unravel the mystery of the deceased's identity and bring them one step closer to the truth. He reorganized his team and, according to the new plan, threw themselves back into the intense investigation, continuing to search for hidden secrets in the streets and alleys of Haizhou.

A continuous autumn rain fell, and Wang Shuai's leather shoes splashed mud across the damp cement floor of the freight company. He gripped the investigation list in his hand, densely filled with information on over 800 trucks. Every license plate number and every driving route had been the subject of his hopes, only to be dashed time and again. This was already the second day of the investigation, and time ticked by, yet the case remained stagnant.

"Team Leader Wang, the dashcam data for vehicle number 798 is back." Team member Xiao Liu ran over, carrying a hard drive, his face etched with exhaustion. Forty-eight consecutive hours of intense work had left everyone's eyes bloodshot and their voices hoarse. Wang Shuai nodded and led the group into the makeshift data analysis room. In the cramped room, over a dozen computers were running simultaneously, the hum of fans mingling with the clatter of keyboards, the air thick with the bitter smell of instant coffee.

On the screen, the video began to play. It showed a heavy truck traveling from Haizhou to a neighboring city. The driver, a middle-aged man, was intently focused on the road ahead. Wang Shuai watched intently, scrutinizing every detail. However, until the video ended, apart from the normal driving footage, there was nothing suspicious. "Next truck," he said, taking a deep breath, his voice carrying a barely perceptible hint of fatigue.

And so, one vehicle after another, they meticulously examined each car's route, stopping locations, and loading/unloading records. Some cars were speeding along highways hundreds of miles away at the time of the incident, some were parked in designated parking lots, and others, although passing through the suburbs, had their dashcams inexplicably malfunctioning and unusable. "These damaged dashcams must be thoroughly investigated," Wang Shuai wrote heavily in his notebook. "Contact the technical department to see if the data can be recovered."

During the visit to the 87th freight company, the manager, Mr. Chen, appeared impatient. (End of Chapter)