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

The social security system showed that Liu Zhiqiang fractured his right ring finger in 2020, and the treatment record almost overlapped with the deceased's X-ray. "There's hope!" Xiao Li's voice rose eight octaves as he pulled up the hospital's medical photos—the man did indeed have a scar on his right temple, the shape of which matched the location of the blunt force injury described by the forensic doctor.

But hope was dashed three minutes later. “The disappearance dates don’t match up,” Zhang Hui pointed to the red marker on the screen. “Liu Zhiqiang disappeared in July 2021, and the forensic doctor estimated the time of death to be July 18th. It’s been three years.” He asked Xiao Li to check the communication records. “The last call was on July 15th, 2021, to his wife, where he said, ‘I’ll never gamble again,’ and then there was no signal.” This created an insurmountable time gap with the “eating on the evening of July 18th” indicated by the deceased’s stomach contents.

Old Zhao, sitting in the back, suddenly sighed heavily. He was looking at a blurry ID photo through a magnifying glass. "This 'Wang Haitao'," he pushed the printed paper towards him, its edges frayed, "175 cm tall, 65 kg, a scar on his right temple, and even the date of his disappearance was mid-July. Looks like him, right?" The man in the photo had a mole on his left eyebrow, but the forensic report didn't mention this feature. "The most amazing thing is this," Old Zhao pointed to the "Special Marks" section, "a tattoo on his right wrist, a butterfly, and the deceased's wrist was clean."

At two in the morning, the air conditioning in the information center suddenly stopped, and the stuffy air was filled with the smell of sweat and burnt instant coffee. Zhang Hui's shirt was soaked through, clinging to his skin like a plaster. "Entry number 1242," he mechanically read the information, "Zhao Gang, male, 40 years old, missing on July 17, 2023, height 176 cm, scar on right temple from a car accident..." Xiao Li suddenly jumped up, the chair leg scraping against the floor with a screeching sound: "This time matches! The estimated time of death is the evening of the 18th. He went missing on the 17th, it's entirely possible!"

The photo on the screen showed Zhao Gang wearing glasses, but the forensic examiner found no trace of glasses on the surface of the deceased's eyeballs. "Look at this," Zhang Hui zoomed in on the missing person's medical report, "He had severe diabetes and needed to inject insulin daily. The pancreatic tissue biopsy showed normal pancreatic function." As he closed the page, the mouse cursor hovered on the screen like a firefly searching for its way. "Excluded."

Xiao Li pushed the cold takeout box aside; the oil from the Kung Pao Chicken had solidified at the bottom, like a dirty piece of amber. "I'd rather go to a crime scene and move a body," he complained. "At least I'd know what I'm doing. This stupid system just keeps using the same few fields: age, height, scars. Can't it come up with something new?" He suddenly pointed to a piece of information. "Hey, this 'Qian Ming,' he drove a van before he disappeared, which matches the model at the crime scene!" But after comparing them, they found that Qian Ming was left-handed, while the crime scene investigation showed that the murderer was right-handed.

Zhang Hui's phone vibrated on the table. It was a message from his wife: "Our son has a fever of 39 degrees Celsius. We just gave him his medicine." He stared at the screen for three seconds, replied with "Thank you for your hard work," and then placed the phone face down on the table. "Case 1568," he took a deep breath, "Sun Wei, male, 36 years old, missing on July 18, 2024, scar on right temple, height 175 cm, weight 68 kg..." All the characteristics matched perfectly, even the last place he was seen before disappearing was near the abandoned parking lot.

The entire information center fell silent instantly, save for the hum of the server fans. Xiao Li's finger hovered over the "print" button, while Zhang Hui's heart pounded in his chest. "Check his family relationships," Zhang Hui's voice tightened. "Does he have any immediate family members here?" The household registration system showed that Sun Wei's parents had passed away five years ago, his wife had divorced him and settled abroad, and he had no children. "Compare his fingerprints to the database," Zhang Hui ordered, his fingertips turning white from the pressure. "Retrieve his prior criminal record fingerprints and compare them with the blurry fingerprint on the steering wheel at the scene!"

By the time the results came out, the sky was already beginning to lighten. Sun Wei's fingerprint database contained only two incomplete index finger fingerprints, completely inconsistent with the middle finger fingerprint extracted from the scene. "And his dental records," Zhang Hui pointed to the X-ray on the screen, "the third molar on the left is a denture; the deceased's tooth was natural and had cavities." He closed all the pages, the screen turning a glaring white. "Entry number 1987, excluded."

Xiao Li slumped over the keyboard, his hair standing on end in a mess: "Brother Hui, we've been working like idiots all night," his voice muffled. "Thousands of messages, my eyes are practically blind from looking at them all, and not a single one is usable." Old Zhao rubbed his red eyes, eye drops rolling around on the table: "The most infuriating thing is that 'Zhou Bin.' Except for not having a scar on his right temple, he was exactly the same as the deceased. He even wrote down his habit of smacking his lips while eating in the notes. And what happened? The deceased is alive and well, and he even had a nucleic acid test done at the community center last week."

Zhang Hui stood up, his lumbar spine making a crisp "crack." He walked to the window, looking at the city silhouette in the morning mist. The lights in the information center were still on, like a weary eye. "Compile all the exclusion lists," his voice thick with a nasal tone. "Focus on those with scars on their right temple, aged 35-40, and around 175 cm tall. Although they weren't right this time, they might come in handy later." He picked up an empty coffee can from the table, the sound of it crushing it particularly clear in the silence. "Notify the technical team to add the deceased's DNA samples to the database and compare them with the national database. We can't screen them manually anymore."

Xiao Li suddenly burst out laughing, pointing to the last message on the screen: "Look at this, 'Li Jianguo,' the reason for disappearance is listed as 'abducted by aliens,' and there's even a UFO drawn in the notes." His laughter was tinged with self-deprecation, "So, all of us for one night are less reliable than aliens." Old Zhao shook his head and began packing his things, the rustling of papers sounding like a hoarse cicada: "At least we know the deceased wasn't among these thousands of people, which eliminates one possibility."

As dawn broke, Zhang Hui's team had verified 2137 leads. The list of those whose leads were ruled out piled up in the printer, the top one bearing Sun Wei's photo, the scar on his right temple gleaming coldly in the morning light. "Let's go," Zhang Hui said, grabbing his coat, the zipper jamming twice. "Go back and get three hours of sleep; we have to report to Captain Lu this morning." He glanced one last time at the information center screen; the standby image was a blue ocean, and they were like fishermen groping in the sea, having worked all night only to reap a pile of seaweed.

Xiao Li's yawn echoed in the corridor. He suddenly remembered something: "Brother Hui, there aren't many people registered in the system for that deceased's old fracture of the right ring finger. Should we make a separate list?" Zhang Hui nodded, his steps slightly unsteady: "Yes, list them all." Sunlight streamed in from the end of the corridor, casting long shadows behind them, like a string of weary, unyielding weight. (End of Chapter)