This Taoist priest is so unprofessional!

As dawn broke, a slightly worn SUV drove into a residential area in the eastern part of Jiangcheng.

Based on the only clue provided in that greasy newspaper, the four of them, having stayed up all night and sporting dark circles under their eyes, headed straight for their destination.

However, when the car stopped at the destination indicated on the navigation, everyone was stunned.

There was no scrap metal collection station in front of us; instead, there was an old residential area.

The air was filled with a damp smell unique to the old town, mixed with the fumes from breakfast stalls and the cool morning air.

"This... was it demolished?" Li Hao looked at the unfamiliar buildings in front of him, his voice full of astonishment.

Zhang Chen's expression was also not good. He leaned against the passenger seat, rubbing his chest, which was aching slightly.

"It's been ten years, it's normal for it to be demolished."

He pushed open the car door and got out.

"The location is correct, let's split up and ask."

Hope is slim, but it's the only way.

Holding the utterly ordinary name "Song Jianguo," they stumbled into this labyrinthine residential area like headless flies.

They asked the elderly people who were doing their morning exercises downstairs.

The old men fanned themselves with palm-leaf fans, squinted their cloudy eyes, thought for a long time, and then shook their heads.

They asked the owner of the convenience store.

The boss, with a cigarette dangling from his lips, waved his hand impatiently as he did the accounting, saying there were plenty of people with the surname Song here, who knew which one it was.

They even stopped the mailman who was delivering the mail.

The postman slapped the letters loudly, saying that there were thousands of households in this area, and he only remembered the house numbers, not the names.

A morning passed, and nothing was gained.

The sun rose higher and higher, baking the cement pavement until it was scorching hot.

At noon, the four of them randomly picked a roadside stall, ate a few mouthfuls of noodles, and continued their needle-in-a-haystack search.

By the afternoon, everyone's patience and energy were almost completely exhausted.

Li Hao and Zhao Qiang were already dejected, like two dehydrated fish, following behind without saying a word.

Zhang Chen leaned against an old locust tree, his forehead covered with fine beads of sweat, his face pale from exhaustion and injuries.

Looking at the identical red brick buildings in the distance, a deep sense of powerlessness welled up in his heart.

He waved his hand dejectedly.

"Never mind, let's find somewhere to eat first."

Just then, Wang Xiaoer, who hadn't said much, clutched his stomach, looking somewhat awkward.

"Brother Chen, I need to go to the restroom first."

Zhang Chen waved his hand impatiently.

Wang Xiaoer felt as if he had been granted a pardon and ran away in a flash.

After wandering around for a while, he finally found a low-rise building deep in the alley with a sign for a public toilet.

After taking care of his physiological needs, Wang Xiaoer felt much more relaxed.

He hummed a little tune as he walked out of the toilet, but when he looked up, he saw a scene not far away.

An elderly man, his back hunched over, was picking up plastic bottles next to a trash can.

The old man looked very old, thin and frail, wearing a faded old Zhongshan suit, his back hunched like a fully drawn bow.

He finally managed to reach a bottle out of the trash can and turned to put it into the huge woven bag next to him.

Perhaps he got up too quickly, or perhaps his legs were really weak, he tripped over something, lost his balance, cried out in surprise, and fell to the side.

"Splash—"

The woven bag next to him, which was more than half full of bottles, also fell to the ground, scattering its contents everywhere with a clattering sound.

The old man was badly injured and lay on the ground, unable to get up for a long time.

Without a second thought, Wang Xiaoer rushed over in three quick steps.

"Sir! Are you alright?"

He bent down and carefully helped the old man up.

The old man's body was very light, and his arms were so thin that they were just bones.

"Oh... thank you, thank you so much, young man."

After the old man regained his balance, he rubbed his back and thanked her repeatedly, a somewhat embarrassed smile on his face.

Instead of checking if he was injured, he looked at the bottles scattered on the ground with a pained expression.

"Don't move, sir, you rest, I'll do it!"

Without saying a word, Wang Xiaoer pressed the old man down to sit on the stone steps beside him, then squatted down himself and began to help him clean up the mess.

The old man sat beside him, watching silently.

Something seemed to be flickering in his cloudy eyes.

When Wang Xiaoer picked up the last bottle and put it back in the bag, dusted off his hands, and stood up, the old man spoke in a hoarse voice.

"What a kind person... There aren't many young people like you these days."

Wang Xiaoer chuckled and scratched his head.

"It was nothing, sir, you're too kind."

He helped the old man straighten the heavy bag, preparing to leave.

But as the words were about to come out, a thought suddenly struck him, and he asked another question as if possessed.

"Sir, can I ask you about someone?"

"Hmm? Go ahead." The old man nodded.

Wang Xiaoer asked casually.

Do you know someone named Song Jianguo?

The moment the words fell.

The air seemed to freeze.

Wang Xiaoer clearly saw that the old man's eyes, which had been dull and lifeless, suddenly brightened.

But the light lasted only a second before quickly dimming, becoming even more ashen and sinking into deeper despair.

The old man's facial muscles twitched, and his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but he swallowed it back.

He looked down at his hands, which were covered in grime and had deformed knuckles.

a long time.

A long sigh, as if draining all his strength, escaped from his withered chest.

He raised his head and looked at Wang Xiaoer again, his eyes filled with extremely complex emotions.

He pointed to his nose.

"I……"

"I am Song Jianguo."

Wang Xiaoer stood there, stunned.

His hands froze, and his smile vanished.

He looked at the ragged, weathered old man before him.

I simply cannot connect this image with that unsolved case that has been buried for ten years.

Is this Song Wen's father?

Is this the person they've been searching for all day long?

Looking at the undisguised surprise on Wang Xiaoer's face, Song Jianguo's eyes were filled with vigilance.

He instinctively shrank back and gripped the woven bag beside him tightly.

"Who are you?"

His voice trembled slightly, almost imperceptibly.

"What do you want from me?"

Just then, Zhang Chen's shout came from the alleyway not far away.

"Did you fall into a poop pit? It's been so long!"

When Zhang Chen and his companions saw that Wang Xiaoer hadn't returned after a long time, they came looking for him.

They were all a little surprised when they saw Wang Xiaoer standing with an old man who collected scraps.

But when they got closer and saw the old man's face clearly, and then saw Wang Xiaoer's ghost-like expression, Zhang Chen's heart skipped a beat, and he instantly understood what was going on.

He strode forward, and Li Hao and Zhao Qiang followed.

Zhang Chen quickly composed himself, stepped forward, and bowed slightly to the old man from a safe distance.

His voice was deep and solemn, carrying a calming power.

"Uncle Song, we mean no harm."

The old man watched the strangers who had suddenly appeared with suspicion, his body tense even more.

Zhang Chen took a deep breath and said, word by word.

"We've come to you because of your son."

"Song Wen".

When the two words "Song Wen" were clearly uttered from Zhang Chen's mouth.

On Song Jianguo's face, which had been as numb as a stone sculpture, all his defenses and pretense crumbled instantly.

His cloudy eyes suddenly reddened.

Large tears, without warning, rolled down the lines of his face.