Anti-gang campaign: Female bureau chief

Song Wanqing turned her head to look at her daughter's profile, her eyes filled with an indescribable emotion.

After a long while, she finally spoke, her voice much softer than before:

"When your dad said that, I didn't think much of it. Later, when you went to Yi'an, I saw those reports on the news—Shen Wangshan, Gu Changhe, the skeletons on the back mountain of Qingshipu—and then I realized what he meant."

Ruolan, Mom isn't very capable in this life, but your father told me something before he passed away: he said our daughters are bold, and once they've made up their minds, nothing can change their minds. I won't try to stop you, but you have to promise me one thing.

"What is it?"

"Live well."

When Song Wanqing said those four words, her tone was very ordinary, like a doctor instructing a patient to take their medicine on time.

But Jiang Ruolan sensed the weight beneath that seemingly ordinary surface.

She didn't answer immediately, but gripped the steering wheel tighter, and after about half a minute said, "I promise you."

Back home, Song Wanqing started kneading dough and chopping filling, while Jiang Ruolan was assigned the task of rolling out the dough.

She rolled up her sleeves and stood in front of the cutting board, rolling the rolling pin back and forth, producing dough sheets of varying sizes and thicknesses, some even with holes.

Song Wanqing clicked her tongue in disgust, snatched the torn dough and kneaded it back into a ball. She scolded her, "If you can't even roll out a dumpling wrapper properly, how will you ever get married?" But after scolding her, she added, "It's fine if you don't get married, Mom will support you."

Jiang Ruolan smiled but didn't reply. She just kept her head down and continued to struggle with the unruly dough.

The television was on, and the news channel was broadcasting a legal affairs program, showing footage of the exterior of the Yi'an Intermediate People's Court on the screen.

Jiang Ruolan looked up and saw that the television was reviewing the trial of Shen Wangshan's organized crime case.

Shen Wangshan's death sentence was approved and carried out by the Supreme People's Court three months ago. His name is now appearing in the news as a "typical case" and a "warning example".

The host read the case commentary in a standard broadcasting tone, his voice objective and calm, as if he were recounting a historical event that had nothing to do with anyone.

But Jiang Ruolan remembered the last words the man said in his cell the day before he was taken to the execution ground.

The police officer on duty at the detention center wrote this sentence in his duty log, which was later forwarded to the special task force.

The sentence was short, only four words: "Don't tell her."

"She" refers to Shen Wangshan's mother.

An elderly woman in her eighties lived in an old brick house in the east of the city. After Shen Wangshan was arrested, she broke down and sat on the doorstep every day, holding a photo of her son when he was a child, staring blankly, ignoring anyone who tried to persuade her.

Later, community workers helped her contact a nursing home, but she returned after less than a month, saying that the beds in the nursing home were too soft and she couldn't sleep.

When the police told her that Shen Wangshan had been executed, she showed no expression. She simply turned the yellowed photograph in her arms over, placed it face down on the table, and then slowly walked back into the house.

Later, Lu Zheng mentioned to her once whether she should send someone to check on the old lady again. Jiang Ruolan was silent for a while and then said no need.

For some people, the rest of their lives ended the moment they heard the news.

The dumplings were cooked in the pot and served steaming hot.

Jiang Ruolan took a bite. It was filled with chives and eggs, with a thin skin and a generous filling. The juice was scalding hot when she bit into it.

She mumbled "delicious," and Song Wanqing smiled with satisfaction, adding two more to her bowl.

The mother and daughter sat facing each other eating dumplings, while fine snowflakes began to fall outside the window.

It rarely snows in the provincial capital. The first snow of this winter came quietly. The snowflakes fell on the windowsill and melted quickly, leaving only a small damp patch.

After lunch, Jiang Ruolan washed the dishes in the kitchen.

Song Wanqing was sitting in the living room looking at her phone when she suddenly said, "Zhou Pei called you; it rang several times."

Jiang Ruolan dried her hands and took the phone. Sure enough, there were three missed calls, all from Zhou Pei.

She dialed back, and the phone was answered after one ring.

Zhou Pei's voice was not as steady as usual; there was a urgency in his tone that she rarely heard from him.

"Ruolan, are you still in the provincial capital? There's an emergency. The department just received an urgent report from the Yi'an City Bureau—this morning, someone dug up a skeleton at a demolition site in the old city area in the east of the city. The preliminary assessment is that it is a woman, and the time of death is between three and five years ago."

The remains were buried beneath the foundation of a building slated for demolition, wrapped in an old quilt. Inside the quilt was a work ID card; you might recognize the name on it.

"Who?"

"Lin Xiaomei".

Jiang Ruolan unconsciously tightened her grip on her phone.

Lin Xiaomei. She remembered that name.

During the investigation of the Shen Wangshan case last year, the search team unearthed a total of four tombs in the back mountain of Qingshipu. The first tomb contained the remains of Meng Zhaoyang, the second tomb contained the remains of Liu Zhenguo and He Dayong, and the third tomb contained the remains of a woman whose identity is yet to be determined. She died approximately twelve years ago, and there were marks on her skull from blunt force trauma. The forensic doctor found a gold necklace among her remaining clothing, and a photograph of a little boy was hidden in the necklace pendant.

DNA testing confirmed that the woman was Lin Xiaomei, a waitress at the Golden Coast Club, a subsidiary of Fengmao Group.

Her family reported her missing, but the police officer who handled the case at the time wrote in the record that she "suspected of eloping with someone." Her son is now fifteen years old.

However, Lin Xiaomei's remains have been found in the back mountain of Qingshipu, and her identity has been confirmed through DNA. Her case has been transferred to the procuratorate for review and prosecution as an additional case to Shen Wangshan's organized crime case.

Now, another set of remains has been unearthed at the demolition site in the east of the city, and Lin Xiaomei's work ID was found inside the quilt wrapped around the remains.

Either the same person was buried twice, or someone took Lin Xiaomei's work ID—but the one actually buried under the foundation in the east of the city was another woman.

"Zhou Pei, Lin Xiaomei's remains were identified last year in the back mountain of Qingshipu, and the DNA test confirmed that it was her."

Jiang Ruolan lowered her voice, "The remains in the east of the city can't be Lin Xiaomei. The work ID belongs to the same person, but the body doesn't."

"I know."

Zhou Pei's voice turned somber. "So the problem is even more serious—someone took Lin Xiaomei's work ID and put it in another victim's quilt. What does that mean? It means that the murderer who killed this person knew that Lin Xiaomei was already dead."

He has access to Lin Xiaomei's belongings. He could very well be the person who participated in Lin Xiaomei's murder. Or perhaps, this new victim has some unknown connection to Lin Xiaomei's case.

Moreover, his choice to put his work ID inside the blanket wasn't unintentional; it was deliberate. He was telling us—this man's death, and Lin Xiaomei's death, were committed by the same group of people.

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