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

“The fact that the killer first tied his wrists and dragged him into the woods before killing him suggests that the two may have known each other or at least spoken to each other—otherwise there would have been no need to go through the trouble of tying him up,” Zhang Kai added. “The fiber residue between the victim’s fingers indicates that he had struggled, possibly during the struggle for the murder weapon. This means that the killer had a close fight with him, and there may have been scratches or bruises on his body.”

By noon, the sunlight had climbed over the windowsill, casting grid-like patches of light on the floor. "I think the murderer acted on impulse," Lu Chuan suddenly said, his enamel mug spinning on the table. "Li Jianfeng might have witnessed something he shouldn't have, like illegal logging or smuggling, and was silenced by the murderer." He pointed to the camphor forest in the photo. "This forest is near the border, and smugglers used to operate here. Maybe when Li Jianfeng was photographing the starry sky, he happened to capture something he shouldn't have."

Yang Lin immediately pulled up a satellite map: "This forest is indeed a high-incidence area for smuggling. We even caught a few people smuggling redwood last year." He drew a dotted line on the map with his laser pointer. "It's only three kilometers from the firebreak to the border. If the murderer was a member of a smuggling gang, he would have seen Li Jianfeng with a camera and assumed he was an undercover police officer, so he would have killed him." Zhang Hui shook his head: "But Li Jianfeng's camera is missing—if it was to destroy evidence, there's no reason not to take the memory card. It would have been easier to just smash the camera."

“Wait a minute,” Zhang Kai suddenly pointed to the “degenerative changes in the lumbar spine” on the autopsy report. “Li Jianfeng had severe lumbar disc herniation. It’s impossible for him to have walked to the edge of a remote cliff on his own. He must have been lured or coerced there—it’s highly likely that it was an inside job.” His gaze fell on Li Jianfeng’s call records. “The last number, 6789, although the owner wasn’t registered under his real name, the base station location was in the southern suburbs. It might have been the murderer who made that call, using ‘good camping spots’ or ‘the discovery of rare birds’ as bait to lure Li Jianfeng to the woods.”

Wang Shuai circled the words "Outdoor Club" with his pen: "Li Jianfeng is a member of the Wolfskin Club. Check his member group chat history. On the evening of July 17th, someone sent him a private message saying, 'There are rare fluorescent bacteria in the southern suburbs on the 18th, suitable for taking pictures.' The sender's nickname is 'Mountain Eagle,' and the IP address is in this city, but it's not verified with his real name." He suddenly raised his voice, "This 'Mountain Eagle' is very likely the murderer! Check his login devices and related accounts!"

Zhou Jianguo stared at the size 44 shoe print on the screen: "Wheel-toed gait, wearing work boots, possibly driving a truck, knows a bit about machinery—these characteristics point to a man working in the construction or logistics industry, aged 30-40, and around 175 cm tall." His finger slid across Li Jianfeng's freight route map, "He runs the Dongzhou-Xi'an line, and he comes into contact with people from logistics parks and gas stations the most. Check the service areas he frequents to see if there are any staff members who match these characteristics."

Lu Chuan downed the tea in his enamel mug in one gulp: "We'll split into three groups. One group will investigate 'Mountain Eagle's' true identity and login device; the second group will check the trucks and SUVs that passed through the southern suburban firebreak on July 18, focusing on vehicles from construction and logistics companies; the third group will visit the outdoor clubs and freight stations frequented by Li Jianfeng to investigate his social connections, especially his recent enemies." He looked at the sun outside the window. "No matter how cunning the murderer is, he will leave loopholes along these three lines—that truck stained with blue fibers is our breakthrough."

As the meeting adjourned, Yang Lin's investigation notebook was filled with new items awaiting investigation; Zhang Kai's forensic report was heavily circled, with the words "angle of left ventricular rupture" repeatedly written on it; and Wang Shuai had marked three asterisks next to "Mountain Eagle's" IP address. The smoke in the meeting room gradually dissipated, and sunlight dappled the ground with tiny dust particles, like countless unresolved mysteries. The mole on Li Jianfeng's left eyebrow bone was faintly visible in the photograph, as if silently recounting the fatal encounter that night swallowed by the camphor tree forest.

As the last person left the meeting room, Lu Chuan suddenly glanced back at the 3D model on the screen. Size 44 work boot prints, a trekking pole with diesel fuel, tire tracks on the firebreak, the mysterious "Mountain Eagle," the missing ID card and cell phone… these clues were like scattered beads, not yet strung into a chain to catch the killer. But he knew that as long as he followed these traces, the figure hidden beneath the dark blue work clothes would eventually be revealed in the sunlight.

After the meeting ended, Wang Shuai's team immediately began to take action.

When Wang Shuai's police car stopped at the entrance to the southern suburban firebreak, the morning mist hadn't yet dissipated, and fine water droplets clung to the roadside weeds. Holding the photo of the tire tracks, he walked into the forest fire station on duty. Station Chief Chen was wiping a dusty register with a rag. "Station Chief Chen, how many trucks or SUVs passed through this firebreak from the afternoon to the evening of July 18th?" Wang Shuai placed the photo on the ash-covered table; the tire treads in the photo were exceptionally clear in the morning light.

Old Chen's fingers traced across the registration book, dark brown tobacco residue embedded in his fingernails. "This road is usually frequented by backpackers' private cars; trucks rarely come—unless they're hauling timber. But lately, the checks have been strict, so who dares to defy the rules?" He suddenly pointed to the scribbled handwriting in the registration book. "Three SUVs registered on the afternoon of the 18th: a white CRV, a black Tiguan, and a blue Prado, all with local license plates." Wang Shuai's pen paused on the words "blue Prado." "Is there any owner information?" Old Chen shook his head. "They only registered the license plate numbers; they didn't leave any contact information. Our little station doesn't have that rule."

When reviewing the surveillance footage at the firebreak entrance, the image started showing static at 3:17 PM on July 18th. "There was a thunderstorm that day, and it burned the wiring," said Xiao Li, the security camera repairman, squatting beside a utility pole, the multimeter needle jumping erratically. "From 3 PM to 8 PM, the screen was completely black, and we just missed the crucial window." Wang Shuai stared at the last blue car silhouette flashing on the screen, the license plate blurred by the rain: "Can it be repaired?" Xiao Li brought the broken wire to his nose and smelled it; a burnt odor made him frown: "The motherboard is burned out, no chance."

While visiting a nearby logistics park, Wang Shuai found Zhao Qiang, the owner of the blue Prado, in front of the third row of shipping containers. He was shirtless, unloading cardboard boxes; a tiger tattooed on his bronze back revealed sweat trickling down the tiger's stripes. "The afternoon of the 18th? I was loading goods in the city," Zhao Qiang said impatiently, grabbing a T-shirt draped over the container to wipe his face. "I lent the car to my cousin; he said he was going to the mountains to photograph birds, but I don't know exactly where." His cousin's testimony indicated that they were indeed photographing birds at the wetland park in the eastern suburbs that day, and other birdwatchers could corroborate this. (End of Chapter)