Anti-gang campaign: Female bureau chief

In the corridor, Lu Zheng leaned against the wall, holding a newly printed technical report in his hand. When he saw Jiang Ruolan come out, he straightened up and went to greet her.

His expression was complex, showing both excitement and confusion:

"Director Jiang, what's the basis for your words to him? How do you know he didn't lay a hand on you?"

"Test him. Pouring caustic soda on his face requires a certain level of mental fortitude, especially repeated application; it's not something an average low-level thug can do."

Geng Changxi's violent criminal record mainly involved debt collection and intimidation behind people's backs, and he has never directly caused anyone's death.

His reaction just now confirmed my judgment—he was just the one who wrote the note; the real executor was someone else.

But he knows who the executor is, and he fears that person far more than he fears us. His silence now doesn't mean he won't speak later.

She took the report from Lu Zheng's hand. "What's this?"

"The technical department's deciphering results of the string of numbers on the note. It's not a number, it's a GPS coordinate, accurate to the second."

The location corresponding to the latitude and longitude is the backyard of an abandoned chemical plant in the eastern industrial zone of the city.

Furthermore, during our investigation of the scrap yard in the east of the city, we received three important leads.

The first story comes from a scrap yard owner named Cui Laosan. He said that two weeks ago, two people came to his place to collect "protection money," demanding that he pay 2,000 yuan every month, or they would vandalize his place.

Cui Laosan didn't pay, and the next day his tricycle and baling machine were doused with sulfuric acid. He only dared to say it was an accident and filed an insurance claim.

The characteristics of the two men who collected protection money matched those of the two people we knew.

The second source comes from an elderly scavenger surnamed Sun in the eastern industrial zone. He said that in the days before Song Baogen died, he often saw him meeting with several strangers at the scrap yard. Those strangers included Geng Changxi and the man with the missing left ear.

The third and most important point is that the wife of the man with the missing left ear is named Liu Jinhua, and she sells vegetables at the East City vegetable market.

Her husband's name is Ding Youtian—yes, he's the same fellow inmate of Geng Changxi who was released from prison on the same day, nicknamed "Frog".

Ding Youtian's wife contacted us, saying she wanted to report her husband.

Jiang Ruolan took the address and glanced at it.

The backyard of the abandoned chemical plant in the Chengdong Industrial Zone is less than 500 meters away from the scrap yard where Song Baogen's body was dumped.

She looked up at Lu Zheng:

"Immediately mobilize people to surround this abandoned chemical plant. Start by digging in the backyard to see if there's anything we haven't discovered yet."

Ding Youtian was in charge of carrying out the operation, Geng Changxi was in charge of the logistics of writing the notes, and the scores with Ma Biao and Luo Dayong also needed to be settled—all four of them had to be included in the roundup.

……

Liu Jinhua sat in the reception room of the Chengdong Police Station, her hands tightly gripping a faded cloth bag, her knuckles white from the force.

She was in her early forties, with rough, dark skin and wrinkles much deeper than her peers, clearly someone who had spent years working in the open-air vegetable market under the sun and wind.

Her eyes were red and swollen, clearly from crying several times, but her expression at this moment was not sadness, but fear—the kind of fear one feels when waking up in the middle of the night, staring at the ceiling waiting for dawn.

When Jiang Ruolan pushed the door open, Liu Jinhua stood up reflexively. When she saw that it was a woman in a police uniform, she was stunned for a moment, and then slowly sat back down.

She lowered her head, her lips moved several times before she finally managed to squeeze out a sentence:

"I...I want to report my man."

"Is your man Ding Youtian?"

Jiang Ruolan sat down opposite her, speaking in a very calm tone.

Liu Jinhua nodded, her voice barely audible.

"His nickname is 'Frog,' but don't be fooled by that nickname. He's nothing like a frog. He's as strong as an ox, and he doesn't even blink when he hits someone."

He used to work for Zhao Biao, you know Zhao Biao, right? He was one of Shen Wangshan's henchmen. He followed Zhao Biao for many years, and then Zhao Biao fell from grace, and he went to jail too.

I thought he would change for the better after going to jail. He wrote me many letters, saying that he had learned some education and skills inside, and that he would live a good life after he got out and never associate with those people again. I believed him.

She stopped there, her lips beginning to tremble.

Jiang Ruolan didn't say anything, but simply pushed the tissue box on the table towards her.

"I picked him up the day he came out."

Liu Jinhua took a tissue and clenched it in her hand, not wiping away her tears, but just twisting it tightly. "He was wearing the down jacket I sent him, and he smiled at me at the prison gate."

I almost didn't recognize him when he laughed—he was missing a piece of his left ear. I asked him what happened, and he said he got bitten off while fighting inside.

I cried then and there, but he said it was okay, since he didn't rely on his looks for a living anyway. That night I cooked six dishes, and he drank a whole bottle of baijiu (Chinese liquor), hugging me and saying we should live a good life together from now on. I really believed him.

"When did he start changing?"

Jiang Ruolan asked.

Liu Jinhua raised her eyes, her eyes revealing a weary clarity lingering from repeated deception:

"Less than a week later, he said he was going to see some old friends. I told him not to contact those people since he had just been released. He said it wasn't those people, but his cellmates, people he had been in prison with, so they could look out for each other."

I think that makes sense. He's been inside for over two years, and he's long lost all his friends outside. The only people he can talk to are his fellow inmates.

But I later found out that those people weren't his cellmates, but his sworn brothers whom he had made again in prison.

One was named Geng Changxi, nicknamed Iron Head; another was Ma Biao; and the third was Luo Dayong. The four of them would get together and drink every day. After drinking, they'd lock themselves in a room and whisper amongst themselves. They'd shut up as soon as I went in.

"What are they discussing?"

"Scrap yard".

Liu Jinhua's voice suddenly became clear, as if she was reciting a line she had rehearsed countless times in her mind: "They said they wanted to start a scrap metal business. They said Shen Wangshan used to be in real estate, but that was too big for them to handle. But the scrap metal business is different. It has low barriers to entry, quick money, and the police don't really care."

They said that the scrap yards in the eastern part of the city used to be surrounded by Fengmao, who collected protection money. After Fengmao went bankrupt, they scattered and are now operating independently, like a disorganized mess.

They said that if they could reclaim this territory, they could make at least several hundred thousand a year.

"What exactly does your man do?"

....................