Chapter 83: Detective Guan, Are You Going to Teach Me Your Special Skills?

Chapter 83: Detective Guan, Are You Teaching Me Your Signature Moves?

Guan Yingjun drove the fastest.

The white Toyota, with Jian Ruochen in the passenger seat and Liu Sizheng and Ding Gao in the back, sped ahead, leading the convoy.

Ding Gao glanced at Detective Guan in the front, wanting to make a request but not daring to. Instead, he cautiously poked Jian Ruochen’s elbow, which was propped on the window, and whispered, "Consultant Jian, could you ask Detective Guan to turn on the car radio? I still want to listen to the interrogation."

Jian Ruochen looked back, then reached out, flipped the radio switch, and tuned the dial to STN’s main channel.

The slightly distorted voices of the judge and Lu Qian crackled through the speakers.

Ding Gao listened intently, completely satisfied.

Though the radio offered only audio, the judge’s detailed case review allowed him to vividly imagine Lu Qian being tormented to the brink of collapse.

It was so gratifying—the more he listened, the more exhilarating it felt.

He could eat two extra bowls of rice after work.

Ding Gao slapped his thigh and exclaimed, "With Consultant Jian here, someone finally dares to turn on the car radio for us, even under pressure!"

Liu Sizheng was speechless.

Since when did their "Little God of Wealth" seem pressured?

He hadn’t even asked—he’d just casually turned it on, as if it were second nature.

Detective Guan, usually so territorial, hadn’t even blinked when Jian Ruochen touched the radio.

At this thought, Liu Sizheng paused.

Strange—was the relationship between Detective Guan and Consultant Jian a bit too close?

It wasn’t the polite camaraderie of ordinary colleagues, but rather an easy, boundary-free closeness.

Liu Sizheng couldn’t quite grasp it at the moment, attributing it only to Detective Guan’s appreciation for talent.

After all, Consultant Jian was in such high demand; if you didn’t treat him well, you’d never keep him.

In less than ten minutes, the car arrived near Yau Tsim Mong’s Flagson Private International Middle School.

Guan Yingjun circled the school and quickly located the abandoned riverbank Lu Qian had mentioned in court.

By then, a few curious onlookers and reporters in yellow vests with cameras were already gathered along the riverbank.

One elderly man even held a shovel, having already dug two or three small pits along the bank.

The team quickly opened their doors and exited the vehicle.

Ding Gao rushed over. "Sir! You can’t dig here, you can’t dig!"

He held up his badge. "West Kowloon CID on official business. Please cooperate!"

The old man grunted, planting his shovel in the ground. "You police can search, so can we! I want to help! If I find something, can you give me a Good Citizen Award? With some extra cash, maybe?"

Ding Gao’s lanky frame swayed as he said, half-laughing, half-crying, "Sir, we need to keep the scene a bit more intact... Please cooperate."

The old man’s face instantly fell. "What do you mean? Think I’m in the way?"

Ding Gao felt a headache coming on.

Some elderly people are difficult to reason with and emotionally volatile.

Though well-intentioned, they can still complicate an investigation.

He was already the least adept in the team at reading people and communicating, and now he dared not risk angering the surrounding public.

If they couldn’t even set up a cordon, that would be bad enough. Worse still, there might be British Hong Kong operatives hidden among the onlookers, trying to sneak onto the riverbank and find evidence first.

Liu Sizheng immediately stepped in to apologize, "Sorry, my colleague didn’t mean it that way. We need to set up a cordon now. Would you mind coming with me to talk over there?"

Ding Gao: ...

While he wasn’t good with words, Liu Sizheng wasn’t much better.

The old man’s blood pressure was rising, his face gradually reddening. Ding Gao looked at Jian Ruochen, who had just put on his work badge, and shot him a pleading glance.

Jian Ruochen gave an OK sign and stepped forward with a smile. "Grandpa! That shovel of yours looks really effective!"

The old man’s attention shifted. "Yeah, I noticed you didn’t bring any digging tools. How about letting me help?"

"Ah..." Jian Ruochen said regretfully, "We have rules—the higher-ups won’t allow it. But I’d love to borrow your shovel, if you’re willing? The department will give you a reward and a bonus afterward!"

Ding Gao and Liu Sizheng held their breath, fists unconsciously clenched, eyes fixed on the old man.

The police tape was halfway up, with only their section left. If this old man didn't move, the work would stall, and who knew how much time would be lost.

After all, "riverbank" was just a general term.

There might be clues here, but Jiang Hanyu might not have hidden the key evidence in this exact spot.

Everything depended on the search.

Time was tight.

The media was lurking nearby, so they couldn’t be too heavy-handed.

Otherwise, tomorrow’s headlines would read something bizarre like, "West Kowloon Police Station CID Throws Weight Around, Drives Away Helpful Citizens."

They could only place their hopes on Consultant Jian...

Seeing the old man’s expression soften, Jian Ruochen quickly added, "If your shovel helps out, it’s like you’re helping too."

The old man: "Ah, that makes sense."

Jian Ruochen extended his palm, guiding the old man outside the cordon. "Come with me to the car to fill out a form. We’ll requisition your shovel, and once this is over, we’ll send a commendation letter and a bonus to your home. Thank you for your contribution to maintaining social order!"

The old man was almost embarrassed.

This young man really knew how to talk.

Even borrowing a shovel counted as contributing to social order.

It seemed an old-timer like him could still be of some use.

The old man, trembling, wrote down his basic information like home address on the witness statement form; whatever fight he had left completely vanished within just a minute.

Ding Gao watched Jian Ruochen handle the situation with such ease, scratching the back of his head so hard it made a sound.

Liu Sizheng looked over, "That itchy?"

Ding Gao said "Ah," "Yeah."

Mostly, he just couldn't figure it out.

Jian Ruochen was amazing, so genuine and skilled when dealing with ordinary folks.

Sigh... why couldn’t he learn to speak like that?

His head was so itchy—was his language system about to reboot?

After recording the information, Jian Ruochen placed the form in the car’s storage compartment, clipped it securely, thanked the old man again as he took the shovel, and then walked back to the crime scene tape.

Ding Gao held up the tape for him.

Jian Ruochen ducked under it, "Thanks."

"I should be thanking you..." Ding Gao scratched his cheek and pulled out a pair of disposable shoe covers from his pocket, handing them over. "Without you, I wouldn’t have known what to do..."

Jian Ruochen took them and put them on, "Really? Hasn’t this happened before? How did Detective Guan handle it?"

Liu Sizheng: "He just asked them to leave... more firmly."

That’s why the media often ran negative stories about West Kowloon.

They were called cold, and public satisfaction and trust kept dropping year after year. Lin Yazhi had scolded the Major Crimes Unit many times over it.

Jian Ruochen chuckled. That did sound like something Guan Yingjun would do.

"Alright, back to work."

As they spoke, Bi Wanwan and others from the team arrived.

Everyone put on shoe covers, trying to avoid disturbing the soil, each responsible for searching a specific area for clues.

Observing crime scenes wasn’t Jian Ruochen’s forte.

He walked over to Guan Yingjun’s side, "So, Detective Guan, expert at reading the land and spotting clues, have you noticed anything?"

Guan Yingjun stopped, resisting the urge to ruffle his hair, and said calmly, "The ground’s uneven in spots, some vegetation looks unusual. Hand me the shovel, I’ll dig there."

Jian Ruochen passed him the borrowed shovel, eager to learn.

Guan Yingjun hefted it, walked to a spot, drove the shovel down, stepped on the head to leverage it, and flipped over a chunk of soil with withered weeds.

His movements were efficient, each thrust purposeful, muscles flexing slightly.

Jian Ruochen’s gaze drifted.

For the first time, he noticed Guan Yingjun had a certain charm, a wildness that only showed in fleeting moments.

He licked his lips.

They’d worked together often before, but he’d never paid attention to these details.

Now it was different—even without trying, things kept popping into his mind.

Guan Yingjun dug about half a meter down.

A dull thud.

The shovel had hit something.

He knelt, brushed off the soil with gloved hands, and dug out the object.

It was a tin box, about the size of a lunchbox.

Bi Wanwan heard the noise and came over, "You actually found something?"

Guan Yingjun called Forensics to photograph the box from all angles before opening it.

He removed his soiled gloves, put on cleaner ones, and examined the contents.

A hardcover notebook, a bank passbook, and a stack of papers folded together.

Jian Ruochen opened the passbook, "It’s Jiang Hanyu’s."

He didn’t get it, "Who buries a passbook with money in the wild? And it’s from a Swiss bank..."

Zhang Xingzong said, "Many criminals who want a fallback do this. When they’re wanted, they can’t go home or frequent usual spots. Using local bank cards gets reported, revealing their location, so they can’t use them. That’s why they stash funds in Swiss accounts as backup."

He leaned in, peeking at the passbook beside Jian Ruochen, "Whoa, 5 million."

In 1990s Hong Kong, 5 million was a lot, but it could only buy about 100 square meters of property.

5 million was significant for ordinary people, but not so much for Jiang Hanyu.

"He probably didn’t hide just this one." Jian Ruochen thought about Jiang Hanyu’s character. "His living costs were high, and when planning an escape, he’d expect hardship, so he must have buried more than this."

Guan Yingjun took out his notebook, sketched a simple map of the embankment, and circled several areas, "Make copies, send them to Chen Jincai, ask him to help dig."

Bi Wanwan: "OK."

Guan Yingjun opened the slightly yellowed papers attached to the diary—the header read in bold, oversized font: Paternity Test Report.

Tested: Jiang Hanyu.

A red square stamp beside the name, vivid, glaring, shocking—Confirmed No Kinship.

Above the stamp, a line of small text: "Based on our center’s assessment, Jiang Hanyu and Mr. Jiang Mingshan are confirmed to have no kinship."

Test date: January 2, 1987.

Guan Yingjun gripped the report tightly.

Intel from informants indicated Jiang Mingshan had recognized Jian Ruochen in 1990 without formal procedures or a welcome banquet—nothing. Jian Ruochen was only 16 then.

And Jiang Hanyu had known since he was 13 that he wasn’t Jiang Mingshan’s biological child? Knowing full well, he’d occupied the nest, acting for three years before Jian Ruochen returned.

Jian Ruochen leaned in, "This early?"

The original book hadn’t mentioned this; he thought Jiang Hanyu found out after the original host was recognized. Turns out he’d done the paternity test himself at 13.

Guan Yingjun froze.

Jian Ruochen studied his face and rubbed his nose.

This matter wasn't easy to explain.

He pinned it on Luo Binwen, "The housekeeper said we were switched at birth."

A throwaway line that made one's heart ache for a moment.

Guan Yingjun frowned.

Hong Kong under British rule had strict controls over newborns; after birth, they wouldn't leave their parents' sight and were under specialist care.

How could a mix-up happen under such circumstances?

He folded the paternity test and flipped hastily through the diary.

Jian Ruochen tilted his head to look as well, stunned by the cringey and illogical venting phrases on the pages, and slowly pulled his head back.

Having avoided the main characters for too long, he hadn't been exposed to such cringeworthy lines in a while—never expected the diary to be filled with them from top to bottom.

Absolutely wild.

In the distance.

Jiang Hanyu, wearing a hat, silently blended into the crowd.

He had arrived a little too late.

But thankfully, the police were misled by Lu Qian's words, mistakenly thinking he had buried important items in the soil, and only found the paternity test, passbook, and diary.

Jiang Hanyu's expression was cold.

Even if that paternity test were exposed, it wouldn't matter.

After all, Jiang Mingshan was already dead, and the fortune was already in his hands.

Once an heir inherits the estate, the inherited property cannot be taken back.

Besides, Jian Ruochen wasn't interested in his money anyway.

Jiang Hanyu smirked.

He found it quite amusing to watch a group of police officers doing a wild goose chase on the riverbank.

No wonder Lu Rong said many people who have committed murder return to the scene of the crime during police investigations.

So that's it—it really does feel gratifying.

No matter how clever the police are, aren't they still only able to find some irrelevant clues and get run around in circles?

Jiang Hanyu's eyes turned icy.

·

Jian Ruochen suddenly spun around, sensing something.

Jiang Hanyu hurriedly averted his eyes and hid behind the crowd of onlookers.

Guan Yingjun followed Jian Ruochen's gaze into the distance: "What's wrong?"

"I feel like someone's watching me," Jian Ruochen said hesitantly. "Maybe I'm mistaken."

Guan Yingjun immediately gave an order: "Zhang Xingzong, Liu Sizheng, you two go canvas the crowd. See if Jiang Hanyu or any British Hong Kong operatives are mixed in."

After the two walked away, he placed the items he was holding into an evidence bag. "Don't underestimate a detective's intuition. Intuition relies on the brain's information processing. Things you can't figure out right away but sense intuitively are likely because your brain has already given the answer, but your conscious mind hasn't processed it yet."

Jian Ruochen raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Detective Guan, are you showing me your moves?"

Guan Yingjun gave a low chuckle. "I'll teach you slowly."

Jian Ruochen suddenly recalled the downpour and the moment the man told him what heartache felt like. He took a step back, speaking rapidly, "I think since Jiang Hanyu prepared a Swiss bank account as a backup, he probably wouldn't put all his eggs in one basket."

Guan Yingjun pondered. "How so?"

"It's very likely he hid things in other nearby places too. That way, if things go south, he could not only retrieve the passbook but also conveniently grab any incriminating evidence from nearby."

Jian Ruochen analyzed, "Moreover, in a situation like this, Jiang Hanyu could ensure critical information isn't found all at once, buying himself more time."

"This way, whether he's escaping or disposing of evidence, he'd have more opportunities."

As he spoke, Jian Ruochen scanned the area. "Jiang Hanyu has a strong ego, is self-centered, and a bit arrogant. Based on his behavior of burying love letters for Lu Qian to find, he's someone who values form and meaning but disregards consequences."

"People like this often hide things in places that hold special significance to them..."

Jian Ruochen's voice gradually trailed off as his gaze fixed on the black-and-white chessboard grid painted on the riverbank.

Lu Qian had mentioned this spot during the trial too.

But they had all treated the chessboard grid as a reference point, never considering it as a hiding place.

Jian Ruochen's breath hitched.

In fact, the most significant place for Jiang Hanyu might very well be this chessboard grid!

The side of the riverbank wasn't taped off!

Jian Ruochen suddenly took off, not even bothering to remove his shoe covers, lifted the police tape, and dashed out. He bent to stabilize his center of gravity and jumped down in one swift motion.

Guan Yingjun's heart nearly stopped as he saw him jump. "Jian Ruochen!"

Jian Ruochen stumbled upon landing, then clambered back up and headed straight for the king's square on the chess grid.

The riverbank was made of concrete and soil—if his guess was wrong, the feedback would be immediate.

Jian Ruochen stomped on the grid, and a faint hollow sound echoed.

This spot was hollow underneath.

Not far away.

Jiang Hanyu, having just slipped past the police officers who were about to check him, witnessed this scene.

He clenched his fists tightly, his mind going blank.

The weather was clear, the sunlight just right.

Yet Jiang Hanyu felt his vision darken and a sharp ringing in his ears.

He murmured, "No..."

Jian Ruochen bent down, fingers tracing the edges of the grid until he found a man-made seam. He gripped it tightly, exerted force with both hands, and pried it open—

"Detective Guan, there's something here!"