Anti-gang campaign: Female bureau chief

There was a moment of silence in the conference room.

Jiang Ruolan did not comment on Sun Zhengyang, but simply spread the crime scene photos of the Yi'an Su Nian case on the table, placing them side by side with the crime scene photos of the Fang Zhiqing case.

Old Zhou leaned over to take a look, his gaze sweeping back and forth between the two sets of photos several times. His expression changed from doubt to shock, finally settling on a heavy and cold look.

"Wrap the head in cling film, put a plastic bag over the head." He pointed to the two photos. "The tools are different, but the principle is the same—to slowly suffocate the deceased when they are completely unable to resist."

This method of killing takes time; it requires the killer to be present. He's not killing; he's enjoying it.

"And this too." Jiang Ruolan pushed two forensic reports over. "Lipstick stain. The lipstick sample you extracted from Fang Zhiqing's lips three years ago has the same composition as the lipstick sample we extracted from Su Nian's lips."

This is a niche French brand with only three distributors in China; a total of sixty units of the same shade have been sold.

Old Zhou picked up the appraisal report and looked at it for a long time. Then he gently placed the report on the table, took off his glasses, and rubbed the corners of his eyes.

His voice was a little hoarse: "It's been three years. I said back then that this killer would strike again. Nobody believed me."

He put his glasses back on, and his gaze became unusually sharp.

"What stage have you reached in your investigation?"

Jiang Ruolan briefly explained the situation of Ding Hai and Zhou Haipeng.

After listening, Lao Zhou remained silent for a long time, then suddenly stood up, walked to the cardboard box, rummaged through it for a while, pulled out a document from the bottom of the box containing a transparent evidence bag, and handed it to Jiang Ruolan:

"This is a note I found in Fang Zhiqing's desk drawer back then."

There was a string of numbers written on it. I initially thought it might be the last few digits of a phone number or a bank account number, but the investigation team didn't accept it, saying it was just a draft she jotted down on the spot.

This note wasn't included in the official list of evidence, but I've kept it.

Jiang Ruolan took the evidence bag and carefully examined the yellowed note through the transparent plastic.

A string of numbers was written on the paper with a blue ballpoint pen; the handwriting was delicate and was Fang Zhiqing's own.

"6222022014001234", a total of sixteen characters.

It did look like a string of numbers written casually, but Jiang Ruolan noticed a detail on the back of the note—a very blurry pencil mark that had been mostly erased, which could be vaguely identified as the character "海" (sea).

When Fang Zhiqing wrote this string of numbers, there was a piece of paper with the character "sea" written on it underneath. The pressure of the pen tip caused the character to be transferred to the back of the note.

"6222022014001234." She read the numbers aloud. "This is an ICBC card number. ICBC debit card numbers are nineteen digits, but this is sixteen digits—this is a credit card number."

She looked up at Lu Zheng and said, "Go check this credit card number and see who the account holder is. When Fang Zhiqing wrote down this string of numbers, there was a piece of paper with the character 'Hai' written on it underneath. She might be recording credit card information that someone told her—and that person's name contains the character 'Hai'."

This discovery provided the task force with a new breakthrough.

Two hours later, the bank's inquiry results came back.

The credit card holder is Zhu Minghai, 30 years old, a local from New South Wales, who runs a small mobile phone repair shop in New South Wales.

Credit records show that Zhu Minghai has no criminal record, only one credit card under his name, and a good credit history. He appears to be an ordinary citizen who operates a law-abiding business.

However, when Lu Zheng was investigating Zhu Minghai's social connections, he discovered a connection that silenced everyone—Zhu Minghai's mobile phone repair shop was located on a commercial street in the riverside district of Xinzhou, while the state-owned enterprise family compound where Ding Hai lived as a child was located in an alley less than 100 meters behind this commercial street.

Zhu Minghai and Ding Hai grew up in the same old residential area, with only one building separating their two families.

More importantly, Zhu Minghai and Zhou Haipeng also know each other—the two were junior high school classmates.

The dilapidated district-run middle school in the riverside area of ​​New Jersey brought together these three boys from different families and with very different personalities into the same class.

Fang Zhiqing was the recipient of Zhu Minghai's credit card payment—the string of numbers on the note was Fang Zhiqing recording the credit card information Zhu Minghai gave her for a transfer or payment.

Fang Zhiqing knows Zhu Minghai.

Jiang Ruolan drew a triangle on the map between the three people's addresses. "And Zhu Minghai knew Ding Hai and Zhou Haipeng. Before Fang Zhiqing was killed, she had some interaction with these three people's social circles. Her death is inextricably linked to these three people."

At 1 a.m., the Xinzhou Municipal Public Security Bureau, in cooperation with the task force, conducted a simultaneous surprise inspection of Zhu Minghai's mobile phone repair shop and residence.

Zhu Minghai was awakened from his sleep by a knock on the door. When he opened the door and saw the corridor full of police officers, the color drained from his face in an instant.

He did not resist or try to escape; he simply stood in the middle of the living room in his pajamas, head down, his body trembling slightly.

Police found an old cell phone in his bedside table that had been switched off for several months. The phone had cartoon stickers on its case and was a model designed for women.

After technical comparison, the IMEI code of this phone was found to be completely consistent with the phone that Fang Zhiqing was carrying on the day she went missing.

"This phone belongs to Fang Zhiqing, so why are you in your hands?"

In the interrogation room, Lu Zheng placed the cell phone, which was in an evidence bag, in front of Zhu Minghai.

A fine layer of sweat appeared on Zhu Minghai's forehead, and his lips trembled incessantly.

His hands were handcuffed to the table, his fingers twisted together repeatedly.

After nearly five minutes of silence, he spoke in an almost whispered voice, as if he had finally put down a huge boulder he had carried for three years, and slumped into his chair:

"Fang Zhiqing... was killed by Zhou Haipeng. I was there at the time, but I didn't do anything. I really didn't do anything. I just... I just helped him dispose of the body."

"Let's start from the beginning," Jiang Ruolan said in a cold and calm voice.

Zhu Minghai closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and spoke in a mechanical tone, as if reciting a line he had rehearsed countless times:

Three years ago, Zhou Haipeng told me that his girlfriend, Fang Zhiqing, wanted to break up with him because she discovered that he had other women outside.

Zhou Haipeng asked me to help him persuade Fang Zhiqing, so I invited Fang Zhiqing to my shop. That night, after Fang Zhiqing arrived, Zhou Haipeng also came, and the two of them had a fierce argument.

Fang Zhiqing said she was going to expose what Zhou Haipeng had done—not his two-timing, but something else entirely. She used the word "crime." To this day, I still don't know what she meant; Zhou Haipeng has never told me.

Fang Zhiqing turned to leave after speaking, and Zhou Haipeng chased after her. I only learned of her death the next day.

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