Anti-gang campaign: Female bureau chief

"Where's the bloodstain on the pillowcase?"

"There is a minor abrasion on the back of the head, which may have been caused by hitting the iron railing of the bed while struggling after being strangled. It is not fatal."

The specific extent of internal damage will only be determined after an autopsy, but based on the current external signs, over 90% of deaths are due to asphyxiation.

Jiang Ruolan carefully examined the deceased's hands.

The fingernails were clean, with no skin tissue or bloodstains—meaning the victim had almost no time to resist when attacked.

For a man like Ma Guoqing, who is physically strong and has been engaged in heavy physical labor for many years, it would be almost impossible for an ordinary person to render him helpless in a direct confrontation unless he is drugged or drunk.

Unless—there is more than one person on the other side.

She straightened up and looked around the room.

The room showed no signs of disturbance; the items on the other beds were tidy, the door locks were intact, and the windows were closed.

This wasn't a burglary that escalated into a murder, nor was it a spur-of-the-moment, impulsive killing. The murderer was targeting him directly.

"Director Fang, how long has Ma Guoqing been working at this construction site? Has he made any enemies?" Jiang Ruolan asked.

Director Fang opened his notebook:

"I asked the project manager at the construction site. Ma Guoqing is a local from Yi'an, living in the old town area in the east of the city. He has been working on this construction site for about eight months."

The project manager said he was a hard worker with a straightforward temper and got along well with his coworkers. He was just a bit impulsive and sometimes argued with people about scheduling and materials, but these were all trivial matters and wouldn't escalate to the point of murder.

His wife died of illness last year. He has a son named Ma Xiaodong who is in high school and lives at Yi'an No. 1 Middle School.

He was supposed to go home for Lunar New Year's Eve today—the project manager said Ma Guoqing told him at noon that he was going home to have New Year's Eve dinner with his son, and he hadn't even signed up for the dumpling feast at the construction site.

"He was supposed to go home, but he didn't. His son was waiting for him at home for New Year's Eve dinner, but he didn't show up. Who did he see during that time?"

Jiang Ruolan walked to the bedside and bent down to examine the items on the bedside table.

The bedside table was a simple metal cabinet, on which sat a stainless steel rice bowl, a pair of chopsticks, a half-finished pack of cigarettes, and an old cell phone.

She put on gloves, picked up her phone, pressed the power button, and the screen lit up.

The phone had no lock screen password, so she checked the call log. The most recent call came in at 4:52 PM and lasted for three minutes.

The caller ID showed a local mobile number with the contact name "Old Zhao".

"Director Fang, who is this 'Old Zhao'?"

Director Fang leaned over for a look, then shook his head:

"I've never heard of it. I'll have someone ask the project manager and the workers."

Lu Zheng also arrived at the scene.

He was at home having New Year's Eve dinner with his wife and children when he received the call. He was peeling shrimp for his daughter, and the shrimp shells were still stuck to his fingers when he rushed out the door.

When he squeezed into the prefabricated house, one of the buttons on his police uniform was fastened incorrectly, and his breath still carried a faint smell of alcohol—not from drinking alcohol, but from the dumpling filling his wife had mixed with cooking wine.

He walked to the bedside and looked at the ligature marks on Ma Guoqing's neck, then bent down and smelled the bloodstains on the pillow. He then turned to Jiang Ruolan and said:

"Director Jiang, the width and texture of this ligature mark look like the thick hemp rope commonly seen on construction sites—but Lao Zheng said it was something like a towel."

And you're right, the deceased was so strong that to strangle him without alerting his roommates in the next dormitory, it must have been either an acquaintance who caught him off guard, or two people working together.

"What about the other three?" Jiang Ruolan asked. "Who else is there?"

"The killer came directly at him." Jiang Ruolan repeated her earlier assessment. "He was supposed to go home today to have New Year's Eve dinner with his son, but he didn't go back."

He stayed in his dorm room after receiving a phone call, and was strangled between 5:30 and 6:30 p.m.

His fingernails were clean, with no signs of self-defense, indicating that he was either drugged or that there was more than one person facing him who subdued him in one move. An ordinary person couldn't possibly strangle a steelworker with their bare hands, but what if it was a gang?

Lu Zheng's expression darkened:

"On New Year's Eve, there weren't many people around the construction site; everyone was eating dumplings and drinking in the canteen."

The killer chose this time to strike because he knew the man would be alone.

If it was a group crime, then it wasn't a personal grudge—personal grudges don't require so many people; one person could take action while the victim is drunk or asleep.

This was a group crime, premeditated, with division of labor and organization. It was an execution-style murder.

"Go and find out who owns this number."

Also, have someone go to Yian No. 1 Middle School to check on Ma Xiaodong's whereabouts tonight—his father didn't come home, did he call his father?

Furthermore, a thorough investigation was conducted on all migrant workers and temporary workers at the construction site. After Shen Wangshan's downfall, Yi'an's real estate projects were reshuffled, and a large number of migrant workers poured in, with employment registration generally not standardized.

If the murderer were a construction worker, he might be eating dumplings in the workers' shed today, and then quit and leave tomorrow.

Lu Zheng nodded, turned around and left the prefab house.

Jiang Ruolan stood by the bed for a while longer, her gaze falling on Ma Guoqing's half-open eyes.

That look in his eyes wasn't fear, but more like a surprise that hadn't had time to fully process—he died without ever realizing what had happened.

She reached out and gently closed his eyelids, then turned and walked out of the prefab house.

Outside the cordon, the workers were still huddled together. Some were whispering, some were on the phone, and some were just silently staring at the flickering incandescent light at the entrance of the prefab house.

Jiang Ruolan walked up to them and glanced at their sun-baked faces:

"Ma Guoqing was in his dorm between 5 and 6 pm this afternoon. Did anyone see anyone coming to see him? Or hear any unusual noises from the dorm?"

The workers looked at each other, and no one spoke.

After a long while, an older worker hesitantly raised his hand, a half-smoked cigarette still between his fingers:

"I...I don't know if it counts."

Around 5 or 6 o'clock, I was helping to move beer in the cafeteria when I saw three people walk past the dormitory through the cafeteria window.

It was getting dark, and the lights on the construction site were dim, so I couldn't see very clearly, but they were definitely not people from our construction site—they weren't wearing work clothes, but rather the kind of clothes that people usually wear on the street.

One of them seemed to be carrying something in a bulging plastic bag. I didn't think much of it, assuming it was someone's friend visiting for the New Year.

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