Anti-gang campaign: Female bureau chief

The makeshift tents on the construction site creaked under the weight of the snow, and the beams of searchlights pierced through the swirling snow, illuminating the technicians in the tunnel who were cleaning the last few bones.

Old Zheng squatted by the edge of the tunnel, carefully using a soft brush to sweep away the last layer of dirt from a skull. Snowflakes fell on his safety helmet and melted into water droplets from his body heat.

He looked up at Jiang Ruolan, who was standing by the tunnel, and said something through his mask.

The wind was too strong for Jiang Ruolan to hear clearly, but she saw the answer she wanted to see in Lao Zheng's bloodshot eyes.

The heavy snow continued until the next morning.

After the snow cleared, the streets of Yi'an were blindingly white, and rows of icicles hung from the eaves, shimmering in the sunlight.

Jiang Ruolan was organizing the last batch of case closure materials in her office. Outside the window, the branches of the sycamore trees were covered with a thick layer of snow, and occasionally a clump of snow would fall down and hit the roof of the police car parked downstairs.

When Lu Zheng knocked and came in, she was filing the final version of the forensic report sent by the forensic team according to its number.

Thirty-seven forensic reports, each accompanied by a facial reconstruction of the deceased and an inventory of his belongings.

Some of the relics were very specific—Chen Xiufang's gold ring, Lin Xiaomei's gold necklace, and Song Ya's phone number printed on the shroud of the woman whose identity has not yet been confirmed.

Some of the relics only have a vague description—a front tooth that was knocked out halfway, a trace of an old fracture healing, or a piece of clothing that has rotted so badly that its original color is no longer recognizable.

But every report ends with the same conclusion: cause of death - traumatic brain injury, manner of injury - multiple blows with a blunt instrument, nature of the case - intentional homicide.

"All 37 reports have been filed. The prosecution says the chain of evidence is complete and the cases can be transferred together. The court has prepared the trial materials, and the supplementary prosecution work for the suspects already arrested on the list has been completed simultaneously."

Lu Zheng placed a stack of documents on her desk, his voice a few decibels lower than usual, "Of the seven people on the list who were still at large, four have been caught so far, and Class A warrants have been issued for the remaining three. The provincial department is coordinating a nationwide manhunt."

In addition, the joint investigation team of the Provincial Commission for Discipline Inspection and the Supervision Department has officially opened a case against Sun Zhengyang.

In addition to confessing to the issues we already know about, he also confessed that three years after the Zhiqing case, he had privately contacted Song Ya, trying to use her connections to obtain information about Fengmao's internal affairs in order to absolve himself of responsibility.

In other words, even after Fang Zhiqing's case was suspended, he continued to maintain contact with Fengmao's personnel and attempted to use his position to seek illegal benefits for himself.

This isn't just simple dereliction of duty; it's covering up crime and abusing power for personal gain, enough to land him in jail for several years.

Jiang Ruolan took the document and flipped through it page by page.

When she turned to the last page, her hand stopped.

It was a confirmation form for the distribution of compensation to the victim's family. There were thirty-six checkmarks after the names in the thirty-seventh row, and the last row was still blank.

The last line is about the woman at the construction site in the east of the city, wrapped in a bed sheet, with no identification and only Song Ya's phone number as her sole clue.

Her identity has not yet been confirmed.

DNA matching yielded no match in the missing persons database, and no valuable leads were received after the facial reconstruction was released.

She was the only victim on the entire list without a name.

"Who is she?" Jiang Ruolan gently tapped the blank square with the tip of her pen.

"There's still no progress. The forensic experts compared her DNA sample with missing persons databases from all provinces and cities across the country for the past ten years, but there was no match."

Her facial reconstruction has been sent to public security organs in counties and cities across the country, and the provincial department has also approved special funds for the investigation.

However, the time span is too long; the case occurred at least five years ago. If no immediate family member reported her missing, or if her relatives are also migrant workers not in the database, then her identity may be difficult to confirm in the short term.

Jiang Ruolan was silent for a moment, then said:

"Thirty-six out of thirty-seven people have had their names found. We must find this last one, no matter how long it takes."

She was killed by a blunt object, wrapped in an old bed sheet, and buried with a cell phone number for more than five years.

She knew the owner of that phone number could save her, and the last person she thought of before she died was a female TV presenter she probably didn't even know.

We can't let her not even have a name.

Lu Zheng looked at her, nodded, and didn't say anything more.

He had worked with Jiang Ruolan for almost two years and knew that she had an almost obsessive persistence in certain things.

This kind of persistence may seem inhumane in many situations, but it is precisely this persistence that has allowed the secrets buried underground in this city for twenty years to be gradually unearthed.

After the snow stopped on the eve of the Lunar New Year, Jiang Ruolan took some time to visit Qingshipu Village in Shiqiao County.

She wanted to go see Song Ya.

After being discharged from the hospital, Song Ya was arranged to stay in the old house in Qingshipu Village—not the bungalow with a cellar that Song Zhigang's chicken farm was in, but an idle farmhouse that the village helped vacate at the west end of the village.

Because she was a witness in the case involving 37 murders, and there were several subsequent court hearings that required her to testify, the task force arranged for her to be placed in the local area and also assigned plainclothes police officers to be responsible for her safety.

Although the old house is old, it is very clean.

The snow on the courtyard wall was swept into a small pile, the gate was ajar, and a faint smell of charcoal fire wafted from the crack.

When Jiang Ruolan pushed open the door, Song Ya was sitting in an old rattan chair in the main room, with a blanket covering her legs and a cup of steaming hot water in her hands.

A small charcoal stove was lit inside the house, and a pot of water was simmering on it, bubbling away with tiny bubbles.

She was even thinner than when she was discharged from the hospital, her face almost gaunt, but her eyes no longer looked as empty as they had in the cellar.

Seeing Jiang Ruolan walk in, she put down her water glass, bowed slightly, and moved very slowly—her bones were too brittle, and the doctor said she would need at least six months of rehabilitation to regain normal mobility.

"Director Jiang." Her voice was a little stronger than it had been in the hospital, but still hoarse. "What brings you here? You're not on duty at the Municipal Bureau for the Lunar New Year, but you've come all this way to see this useless old man."

"Just passing by." Jiang Ruolan sat down on a bamboo chair opposite her and placed a bag of fruit she was carrying on the table.

It wasn't bought from a roadside stall; Zhou Pei sent it from the provincial capital—a box of Gannan navel oranges, half of which she gave to Song Ya.

Song Ya glanced at the bag of oranges, and the corners of her mouth curved slightly.

The smile was small, but it was the first real smile Jiang Ruolan had ever seen on Song Ya's face.

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