The person standing at the front of the crowd is the landlord, Liang Dezhong, around forty years old, with dark skin and always wearing a warm smile.

You can tell that Liang Dezhong has a very good relationship with the tenants; everyone responds to his smile genuinely while queuing up.

A few school-age children chattered as they greeted Song Baoguo.

He magically pulled out some lollipops from his khaki washed pants pocket, and the kids gleefully ran off with them.

"Officer Zhang, hasn’t it been long?"

Zhang Hui shook his head. He had a pretty good impression of this landlord, who was kind and forthcoming, answering all questions without reservation.

"It’s just drawing blood. It won’t take long."

The tenants in the crowd were whispering among themselves. After all, a murder had happened, and it would be stranger if no one talked about it.

"When will they finish? No one’s watching the market stall, and we’ll probably lose money today."

"Just these 20-some people. Didn’t you see the landlord at the front already started? Don’t worry, it’ll be our turn soon."

"Honey, I heard they wiped all the blood marks in the room, what can they find now?"

"You useless woman, it’s none of your business, shut up, let’s hurry to work after the blood draw."

The tenants in this building mostly come from working backgrounds—selling vegetables at the market, doing odd jobs, or working as sanitation workers.

A few elementary school students ran around, and the police officers maintaining order didn’t bother them, letting the kids play.

There are just over twenty people, and it might take less than an hour to finish the blood draw.

"Uncle, you’re a police officer, can I see your gun?"

Standing at the back of the crowd, Zhang Hui was approached by a curious little boy in light blue school uniform, about seven or eight years old.

"Little friend, you can’t look at guns carelessly; they’re very dangerous. Do you like guns?"

The boy nodded vigorously, his slightly chubby face jiggling up and down: "Yes, I want to be a cop too, to shoot bad guys like you, Uncle."

"Well, then you should study hard and get into police academy when you grow up to become a police officer."

"Police Uncle, I’m a good student; I always come first in my class exams. I’ll definitely get into the police academy to become a cop."

The boy spoke resolutely, then leaned closer to Zhang Hui and whispered mysteriously: "Police Uncle, I’ve got a secret for you. The night before yesterday, I heard someone shouting for help downstairs while I was half-asleep. I wanted to get up and help, but my parents wouldn’t let me because they said I was too young. Do you think I can help when I grow up?"

Hmm?

Zhang Hui suddenly froze! 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Help?

"Little friend, just now you..."

"Liu Xingchen! Why are you running around? Come here for the blood draw, we still need to go to school later!"

Just as Zhang Hui wanted to continue his inquiry, a tall, burly man exuding the smell of paint, wearing a vest, came over and pulled the boy away.

He looked a bit apologetically at Zhang Hui: "Officer, sorry for the disturbance, kids can be noisy."

"Dad, I wasn’t noisy, I wanted to see the officer’s gun."

Obviously, it’s the boy’s father.

Zhang Hui slowly stood up from his crouch, waved his hand: "It’s okay, the little friend is quite cute. He said he wants to become a cop like me and catch bad guys."

The man laughed sheepishly: "Eight generations of our family have been farmers, can he really become a cop?"

"Alright, it’s almost our turn now. Officer, you continue; we’ll go for the blood draw."

He finished, pulling the boy forward in the line. A young woman in a blue short-sleeve top and gray jeans lifted the boy to get ready for the blood draw.

Zhang Hui stood quietly at the end of the blood draw line, watching the crowd thin out. The blood draw was completed quickly.

"Brother Hui, the blood draw is done. Are we heading back now?"

"Yes, you go ahead; I have something to do, let Old Chen stay."

"Okay."

The police car carrying the blood samples sped off, and the officers maintaining order bid farewell to Zhang Hui and left too.

Other residents in the rental house left one by one; those going to work headed off, children carried their backpacks and left for school.

"Follow the bus in front."

Zhang Hui sat in the front passenger seat, with Old Chen driving.

"What, that guy’s suspicious?"

"It’s not clear yet. That man’s kid just said that on the night of the crime, he vaguely heard someone shouting for help."

Hmm?

Old Chen was taken aback: "During our investigation, people in the rental house said they heard nothing."

"The kid was half-asleep, maybe dreaming?"

Zhang Hui shook his head: "This kid is already seven or eight, likely in first or second grade, probably knows the difference between dreams and reality."

"Plus, although the father was smiling sincerely when he talked to me, he seemed nervous, sweating on his forehead. He’s wearing a vest, and it’s not that hot today, why sweat?"

Police seem to have a peculiar sixth sense for the unusual, easily catching on to things.

Of course, it could just be Zhang Hui’s guess, or maybe the man just sweats easily, or perhaps he’s merely a worker who naturally feels tense talking to police.

But, there’s also the possibility that he hides a guilty conscience!

Old Chen had been with the Criminal Investigation Team for over twenty years, not great with temper, once got in trouble early on for being too rough when apprehending suspects.

He hadn’t been promoted in years, but he’s a capable investigator. Hearing what Zhang Hui said, he understood.

If one had to explain, it would be inexplicable, no solid evidence, just a sense of something being off.

Thirty-two minutes later, the man got off the bus, heading straight to a furniture factory on the left.

He had learned carpentry from his uncle in the village, and after coming to the city for work, learned paint spraying, staying employed at the furniture factory.

"Old Sun, why are you so late? If today’s work gets delayed, they’ll deduct pay."

"Rest assured, Brother Zhang, it’s no big deal; it won’t hold me up. I’ll work overtime today to finish everything."

Compared to when he talked with Zhang Hui, the man’s voice was now loud and booming, carrying a sturdy strength.

The furniture factory wasn’t large, more like a workshop. Once inside the yard, Zhang Hui saw the man changing clothes, putting on a gas mask, preparing to work.

"Boss, who are you?"

Zhang Hui and Old Chen had just entered when someone came over to inquire.

Typically, this furniture factory only dealt in wholesale, not retail, so visitors were often business-related.

It could mean a lucrative transaction; thus, the person was polite, addressing them as "Boss."

Zhang Hui showed his credentials: "Police."

"Hello, Officer!"

The person was surprised, then became even more courteous.