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

“It’s probably a rented car,” Xiao Wang said after checking all the car rental companies in the city. “In the past month, 12 Chang’an Star cars have been rented out, 3 of which are white, but none of them have ‘probationary driver’ signs or rearview mirrors wrapped with tape.” He checked the rental driver’s information. “There was a guy named Liu Wang who rented a white Chang’an Star. The license plate is Ji A·73521, which matches the ‘735’ registered at the logistics park!”

When they found Liu Wang's address, the security door was ajar, and the house reeked of gasoline. The van in the corner had a newly replaced rear bumper; the fresh white paint contrasted sharply with the old paint. "I bought this used car from the junkyard last week," Liu Wang said, rubbing his oily hands, red paint still embedded between his fingers. "I planned to use it for freight transport, but I haven't had time to transfer the ownership yet." He showed them the purchase agreement; the fingerprint on the signature matched perfectly with the one on the logistics park's registration book.

"What were you doing in the neighborhood at this hour?" Zhang Hui stared at his right leg. His gait was normal, with no sign of a limp. Liu Wang's eyes flickered. "I was hauling some goods. I was afraid of getting fined by the property management, so I parked in the fire lane." He pointed to the cardboard boxes on the back seat. "They're all stationery, destined for Shandong. There are tracking numbers." The delivery address on the tracking numbers was accurate and the shipping time matched the surveillance footage.

While inspecting the van, the technician found a platinum ring under the back seat floor mat, with "LW" engraved on the inner band. "Is this yours?" Zhang Hui held up the ring, and Liu Wang's face suddenly turned red. "It's not mine, it's probably left by the previous owner." He scratched the back of his head. "I didn't check it carefully when I bought it, it was a mess inside." The fingerprints on the ring were covered by oil, making it impossible to extract any useful information.

The crucial lack of surveillance footage brought the investigation to a standstill. Standing in the logistics park's monitoring room, Zhang Hui watched Liu Wang unloading goods on the screen, but something felt off. "His hoodie," Zhang Hui suddenly pointed to the screen, "has a hole in the cuff, just like the hole in the cuff of the figure in the garage surveillance footage!" But when they found Liu Wang, his hoodie cuff was perfectly intact; the one they claimed to have torn had already been thrown away.

"Check Liu Wang's call records," Zhang Hui told Xiao Wang. "See if he contacted Li Wei before or after the incident." The call log showed that the two did indeed contact each other, but it was all last month, and the content was about discussing car rental prices. "I'm just a truck driver," Liu Wang repeatedly emphasized. "I don't know any Zhao Jianguo, and I've never been to that garage."

The investigation into the white van lasted three days, with all clues pointing to Liu Wang, but no direct evidence. His alibi was perfect—surveillance footage from the logistics park confirmed that he was unloading goods from 1 a.m. to 3 a.m.; the red paint on the vehicle matched the composition of the warning posts in the community, yet no scratches could be found; and the "LW" on the ring could not be linked to any debtor.

As Zhang Hui removed the photo of the van from the blackboard, the setting sun cast long shadows across the logistics park. Liu Wang's van was still parked at the scrap yard, the "Intern" sign on the rear window frayed by the wind. The technician's final report lay on the table: "No biological samples related to the deceased were found inside or outside the van; the tire tread pattern did not match the shoe prints in the garage; the paint composition matched but showed no signs of transfer."

“The trail has gone cold.” Zhang Hui stuffed the report into the file, the rental agreement for Liu Wang still tucked into the creases of the pages. He looked out the window at the passing trucks and suddenly remembered what Liu Wang had said: “Who would go to the garage to kill someone in the middle of the night, driving a beat-up van?” Perhaps the answer was hidden in that sentence—the murderer wasn’t actually driving the van; he was just using it to divert attention.

As the lights in the information center came on, Zhang Hui readjusted the direction of the investigation. Although the investigation into the white van had yielded no results, the clues from the "LW" ring and the hoodie remained. He picked up the phone: "Wang Shuai, investigate Liu Wang's previous owner of the car, and also that ring engraved with 'LW'. Expand the scope of the investigation, don't limit it to debtors."

As night deepened outside the window, Zhang Hui knew that this broken clue might just be bait; the real fish was still lurking in deeper waters. But he was patient, like waiting for surveillance footage to finish loading. One day, the blurry figure would become clear, and all the fragments would piece together the complete truth.

As the roller shutter of Shengda Trading Company was pulled up, rust crumbled in the morning light. Wang Shuai walked into the office, stepping over a pile of building material samples, the air thick with the mixed smell of plywood and paint. Human Resources Manager Sister Zhang, holding the attendance sheet, repeatedly stroked the name "Li Yunfeng" with her fingers: "This young man is a forklift driver. He hasn't come to work since last Wednesday. His phone is off, and no one answers at home." She flipped through the employee file; the man in the photo had a mole on his left eyebrow and a noticeable deformity in the second joint of his left ring finger—a perfect match to the forensic description of "old fracture characteristics."

"When was the last time he appeared?" Wang Shuai pointed to the clock-in time on the attendance record: 5:37 PM on July 12th. This was Li Yunfeng's last recorded attendance. Sister Zhang suddenly slammed her hand on the table: "That's right! He had an argument with General Manager Zhao in the warehouse that day. The noise was so loud that the whole office could hear it. It seemed to be about overtime pay. Li Yunfeng said, 'If you don't pay me, I'll report you to the labor bureau.'" The surveillance footage at the warehouse entrance showed that at 6:12 PM that evening, Li Yunfeng pushed a forklift away, with a black canvas bag in the truck bed.

Wang Shuai retrieved the company's financial records and found that Li Yunfeng's salary card had five unexplained deposits in the past three months, totaling more than 20,000 yuan, all from anonymous accounts. "Has he borrowed money from anyone recently?" he asked Lao Zhou, the warehouse manager, who was squatting on the ground taking inventory of steel bars, rust stains leaving dark red marks on his work pants. "Xiao Lü told me that Yunfeng's wife always scolds him for being incompetent, and last month he borrowed 5,000 yuan, saying it was for the children's tuition."

When they found Li Yunfeng's house, the lock cylinder of the security door showed signs of being pried open. A neighbor, an older woman, was looking around in the hallway with a shopping basket in her arms: "I heard arguing at his house on Wednesday night, followed by a loud crash, like something was being smashed." She lowered her voice, "His wife, Song Yao, has been acting very mysteriously these past few days. Last night, she dragged a large suitcase out and got into a black car with a strange man."

Wang Shuai found the diary in Li Yunfeng's bedroom. The last page had messy handwriting: "Song Yao met with that guy surnamed Wang again. She thought I didn't know... If something happens to me, it must be them." Tucked inside the diary was an insurance policy, with Song Yao as the beneficiary, a coverage amount of 500,000 yuan, and an effective date three months prior. In the bedside table drawer was a platinum ring, engraved with "LYF"—the initials of Li Yunfeng's name in pinyin. It wasn't the same "LW" ring found in the garage, but the scratches on the inside of the ring perfectly matched the wear marks on the forklift's control lever. (End of Chapter)