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

The forensic test results came back quickly: the stains were confirmed to be pig blood, perfectly matching the sow information on the quarantine certificate Liu Yong had obtained for the pigs. The fiber sample from the bottom of the truck bed also yielded results: the dark blue polyester fiber, while identical in composition to the deceased's work clothes, showed a significant difference in warp and weft density, indicating it was a common tarpaulin fiber used in livestock farms. "I've used this tarpaulin for three years, hauling pigs from five nearby villages," Liu Yong pointed to the hole in the tarpaulin, "It was scratched by an iron hook last week in Lijiazhuang; you can go and check."

The comparison of tire tread patterns was crucial. Technicians created a 3D model of the tire tracks on Liu Yong's truck and the size 44 shoe prints at the crime scene. The angles of the diamond patterns differed by 3 degrees, and the depth also didn't match—the tires of the pig-collecting truck were more worn, and the rubber on the tread had hardened. "Moreover, the truck's wheelbase is 1.5 meters," Yang Lin said on the phone, "while the wheelbase of the tire tracks at the crime scene is 1.3 meters, clearly indicating a smaller vehicle."

Liu Yong's call records show that at 9:47 PM on July 12, he spoke with Lao Li from Lijiazhuang for 2 minutes and 17 seconds. "We talked about the sow giving birth," Lao Li testified over the phone. "He said he would come over around 3 AM, but my sow gave birth at 1 AM, and when he arrived, the piglets were running all over the place." The location data from the call base station also shows that Liu Yong was within the Lijiazhuang area at the time, about 15 kilometers away from the farm where the incident occurred.

What Wang Shuai was most concerned about was the bloodstained steel pipe. "The steel pipe in my car is used to pry open pigs," Liu Yong said, taking out an identical steel pipe from his toolbox. "But this one has no signs of impact, and I never take it out of the car." The fingerprints extracted by the technicians from the steel pipe were only Liu Yong's, and the rust composition was different from the fence at the crime scene, being more common construction steel.

As Wang Shuai handed Liu Yong the report clearing him of suspicion, the man was loading the last piglet onto his truck. “I told you I didn’t kill anyone,” his rubber gloves gleamed in the sunlight, “but I did argue with Chen Jianfeng last Wednesday. He thought I was haggling too much and kicked my car. Look at this dent on the bumper.” This dent perfectly matched Chen Jianfeng’s confession and explained the similar impact marks on the fence—Chen Jianfeng had kicked it himself.

As the truck started its engine, black smoke billowed from its exhaust pipe, dispersing in the sunlight. Wang Shuai stood at the entrance of the farm, watching the truck disappear into the dust. In his notebook, Liu Yong's name was crossed out diagonally. Although the truck had been ruled out as a suspect, the size 44 shoe print, the bloodstained steel pipe, and the brown shoelace at the crime scene remained like scattered puzzle pieces, awaiting new clues to connect them. In the distance, the squeals of the pigs echoed from their pens, as if urging for the next breakthrough.

The fluorescent lights in the information center hummed softly. Zhang Hui stared at the scrolling missing persons information on the screen, his eyes dry as if covered with sandpaper. The 783rd record flashed by, the words "Male, 38 years old, construction worker, missing on July 10th" leaving a lingering image on his retina. He grabbed the eye drops from the table, squeezed two drops into his eyes, and the cold liquid slid down his cheek and into his collar, sending a shiver down his neck.

"Brother Hui, could you make the system's filtering criteria a little more precise?" Technician Xiao Ma slammed the mouse on the table, the plastic casing hitting the edge of the keyboard, and the cigarette ash that popped out landed on the case number of "corpse found in a pigsty." "I'm looking for 'males aged 30-40, with characteristics of mechanical asphyxiation,' and all I get are 'accidental deaths.' Was this algorithm written with a foot?" He took a sip of iced coffee, water droplets from the bottle dripping into the keyboard through his fingers. "Now every name looks the same: Chen Jianjun, Li Jianjun, Wang Jianjun... If I keep looking like this, I'll have to go see an ophthalmologist."

Xiao Zhou next door was sighing at the printer. A4 paper slowly emerged from the output tray, containing a supplementary autopsy report just sent by forensic pathologist Zhang Kai. "The print quality is terrible," she said, holding the paper up to the light. "'Old fracture of the left knee' is printed as 'no fracture of the left knee.' I almost misjudged the search range, wasting over thirty comparisons." The printer suddenly clicked, and she yanked hard, half a sheet of paper stuck in the roller. "Damn, I have to take the machine apart again. This piece of junk is harder to handle than a corpse."

Zhang Hui's gaze lingered on the words "mechanical asphyxiation combined with strangulation," his fingertips tapping lightly on the table. The forensic examiner estimated the time of death to be between 10 PM on July 12th and 2 AM on July 13th. Height 175-180cm, weight 65-75kg, and an old fracture in the left ring finger—these characteristics, like a rusty thumbtack, pinned the search to the framework of "male, 30-40 years old, recently missing, and possibly with neck injury." "Single-list construction workers who have been missing for nearly a month," he nudged Xiao Ma's shoulder, "The fabric composition of the deceased's work clothes indicates it's a durable material commonly used by construction workers."

Xiao Ma scrolled through the screen, the information flowing like murky river water: "I checked, there are 217 registered missing construction workers in the city, but the information is incomplete, many don't even have recent photos." He clicked on a record for "Liu Zhiyuan, 39 years old, steelworker." The man in the photo was wearing blue overalls and had a mole on the corner of his mouth. "Look at this one, the height and weight match, but the date of disappearance is half a year ago, the time of death doesn't match."

Xiao Zhou suddenly jumped up from beside the printer, holding up a crumpled piece of paper: "I found someone similar!" She slammed the paper down in front of Zhang Hui. "Zhang Qiang, 36 years old, bricklayer, went missing on July 11, 178cm tall, 70kg, 80% match with the deceased's characteristics." In the photo on the paper, the man was wearing dark blue overalls and had a mole on his left eyebrow—but the forensic report said the deceased's left eyebrow was smooth, without even a pimple mark.

“Excluded,” Zhang Hui drew a thick line on the paper with his pen. “The brow bone features don’t match. Besides, this person was working in another city before he disappeared. His coworkers said he left on July 10th, so it’s impossible for him to be at the local farm.” He pulled up Zhang Qiang’s bank statements. “The last transaction was at the train station in a neighboring city at 9:00 AM on July 11th, which doesn’t match the deceased’s timeline of death.”

The clock in the information center struck 7 p.m., the fluorescent lights began to flicker, and everyone's faces looked exhausted in the dim light. Xiao Ma's fingers tapped slower and slower on the keyboard, the "30-40 year old male" information on the screen appearing like an endless tide: "912th one, Brother Hui," he yawned, tears blurring his vision, "This 'Zhou Jianming,' 40 years old, a construction worker, went missing on July 12th." (End of Chapter)