Chapter 96.3

Tan Wenbin sprinted away with exaggerated high-knee strides. At the tree-lined entrance, he kept up the motion in place while waving frantically.

“Dad, over here!”

Tan Yunlong walked over in full uniform, several colleagues trailing behind.

Seeing his son bouncing in place, he frowned. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve got cold syndrome. Just exercising.”

“Where’s Little Yuan?”

“Over there.” Tan Wenbin pointed, his eyes drifting to the paper bag in his father’s hand. “Dad, I’m heading back to the dorm to change.”

“These are snacks I bought for you. Take them back.”

“No one loves you like your dad~”

Tan Wenbin snatched the bag and dashed back to the dorm. Once inside, he opened it. Nestled within were the files on Granny Yu.

But tucked in the folds were also two bars of chocolate.

And it wasn’t the cheap kind either—these were premium. Tan Wenbin blinked in surprise. So his dad really did go the extra mile this time.

He immediately tore open one wrapper and popped a square in his mouth. The second bar he set beside the pen holder—for Little Yuan.

Then he rummaged through his luggage and pulled out the thick winter coat he’d packed at the start of the semester. The moment he wrapped it around himself, warmth flooded his limbs.

Right then, a knock sounded at the door.

Tan Wenbin opened it to see Lu Yi standing there, a guitar slung over his back.

“Take me instead! Leave my bro alone!”

The shout was both loud and oddly feeble in tone, leaving Tan Wenbin utterly confused.

“What are you even doing?”

“Huh?” Lu Yi squinted at him. “You’re… you’re okay now?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? Hey, didn’t you mess with the wiring in your dorm? Go make me some dumplings. Boiled, not dry. I want soup. And slice some red sausage into it.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Tan Wenbin followed Lu Yi to his room.

Lin Shuyou was sitting on the bed eating. When he saw them come in, he dropped his chopsticks. “Bro, you got possessed or something?”

At those words, Lu Yi wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand and silently added another sausage to the pot.

Then shouts rang out from the hallway.

A roommate burst in, tossed his books on the bed, and barked, “What are you guys still doing here? Cops are digging up a body behind the dorm! Hurry up and see!”

Calling in an excavator takes time, and the machines can easily damage a scene.

So the best method was a more archaeological approach—manual digging.

Which meant lots of manpower.

And fortunately, if there’s one thing universities have in spades, it’s high-energy, idle labor.

These students, as long as it didn’t involve going to class, would pour their hearts into anything.

Soon, groups returned, panting and drenched in sweat, having borrowed shovels. But no matter how tired, everyone insisted on keeping at least one shovel for themselves.

Tan Yunlong began directing the excavation, while his colleagues managed the surrounding crowd.

Even the students who grew up in the countryside, long out of practice, began to tire after some digging. City kids, unsurprisingly, fared even worse.

Didn’t matter. The outskirts were filled with others shouting, even begging, “Please, let me dig! Just two scoops!”

The police hadn’t said they were digging for a body. That part was entirely a student rumor—though, this time, it turned out to be true.

With a never-ending stream of fresh volunteers, the digging was well underway by the time school administrators arrived.

Tan Yunlong quickly ordered everyone to stop, then carefully finished the final bit himself.

A rotting corpse slowly came into view.

By all rights, in such an environment, the body should’ve decayed to bones by now.

But perhaps due to the large tree roots growing through it, or something to do with the soil and the site’s feng shui, Tang Qiuying was still in a decomposing state.

The moment the corpse was uncovered, the students grew even more excited. The three officers trying to maintain order had to shout themselves hoarse just to hold the crowd back.

The windows above were crammed with heads. Some students were practically halfway out the windows. One slip, and a second fresh corpse might’ve joined the scene.

Thankfully, the reinforcements Tan Yunlong had called finally arrived, bringing some order to the chaos.

School administrators began popping up like whack-a-moles.

Tan Yunlong slipped on a new pair of gloves. He noticed the corpse’s right hand clenched into a tight fist.

He bent down to pry it open, but couldn’t budge it.

Just as he was about to give up, the fist opened on its own.

Inside was a work ID badge, bearing a name: “Wang Chaonan.”

Tan Yunlong climbed out of the pit and approached the gathered school officials.

He asked if they knew who Wang Chaonan was.

Honestly, it was a shot in the dark. The murder had happened years ago—getting answers from just a name would be pure luck.

But this time, luck was on his side.

This was the residential area. The first group to gather here had been from logistics. One of them, after mulling it over, asked:

“Is it the ‘Chao’ from ‘Chaoyang,’ and ‘Nan’ like ‘south’?”

“That’s right.”

“He’s one of our veteran staff in logistics. Handles landscaping around campus...”

“Where is he now?”

“He’s off today.”

“Where does he live?”

“I… I…”

Another person spoke up. “I know. I went to his housewarming party. It’s right across from the grain depot in Xinqiao Town.”

Tan Yunlong immediately split his team—some to continue digging, others to go make an arrest.

If Wang Chaonan really was the killer, and they didn’t act fast, once he heard what had happened at the school, he’d likely try to run.

Amid this flurry of orders, Tan Yunlong locked eyes with Li Zhuiyuan, who was standing at the edge of the crowd holding a plastic bag.

Too many people, and the corpse had already been unearthed, so Li Zhuiyuan hadn’t bothered pushing through for a look.

But seeing the signal from Tan Yunlong, he nodded and followed.

Whether in Shigang Town or Jinling, Officer Tan had always handled these things by the book.

He only cared about catching the killer. Whether the person helping was a kid or not—it didn’t matter. He was both scrupulous and ruthless.

Tan Yunlong signaled his colleagues to prep the squad cars and alerted the local police station.

He himself spotted a parked motorcycle. Its owner had come to watch the commotion—until his ride got commandeered.

Li Zhuiyuan had already experienced Tan Yunlong’s motorcycle skills.

He climbed on behind, placing the bag of high heels between them, then wrapped his arms around Uncle Tan’s waist and lowered his head.

What followed was a blur.

All Li Zhuiyuan could hear was the howling wind. There was no way to talk on the bike.

Xinqiao Town wasn’t far from the campus. The local police probably couldn’t respond as fast as Tan Yunlong tearing down the road on a motorbike.

The squad cars were already out of sight.

Soon, they arrived: Xinqiao Town. Grain depot. Across the road.

A self-built village house—two stories. The nearest buildings were fields away. No room for mistake.

Despite being newly transferred, Tan Yunlong clearly knew the area well. He hadn’t stopped to ask directions once. He’d clearly done his homework.

That trait reminded Li Zhuiyuan of Binbin. He used to mess around, but when it mattered, he was every bit his father’s son.

In the courtyard of Wang Chaonan’s house sat a couple in their forties and a boy around three, having lunch.

Tan Yunlong drove the motorbike straight up the narrow path and right into the courtyard.

“Daddy! Mommy! A motorcycle! A motorcycle!”

The boy shouted, delighted.

If they’d been grandparents, it might be normal. But for parents this age, it was unusual.

The man saw the uniformed officer ride straight up, and immediately dropped his bowl and bolted.

Experienced cops can often tell when someone’s lying. But this reaction? Even a rookie could tell—this guy was guilty as hell.

Li Zhuiyuan leapt off the bike, freeing Tan Yunlong to keep charging without stopping. He let the bike crash to the ground and sprinted after Wang Chaonan.

Wang was panicking, running in zigzags. He tripped jumping off the courtyard. Then again in the fields.

Before he could get up, Tan Yunlong tackled him, cuffing him with the speed of someone who’d done this a hundred times.

Back at the courtyard, Li Zhuiyuan had been keeping a wary eye on the woman. But she just clutched the little boy tightly, sobbing and murmuring,

“Yongyong is our son. Yongyong is our son.”

That made Li Zhuiyuan uneasy. Whether she knew about her husband’s crimes or not, this wasn’t the reaction he expected.

It was as if—to her—the police had come to take away her child.

Li Zhuiyuan studied their faces. If they were really mother and son, there should’ve been some resemblance.

There was none.

And her features bore the marks of the “barren fate”—a type in physiognomy associated with infertility.

Not an absolute rule, of course. Face-reading wasn’t gospel.

But when Tan Yunlong returned with Wang Chaonan in tow, Li Zhuiyuan studied his face too.

Same barren fate. Even more severe. A textbook case for The Comprehensive Treatise on Yin-Yang Physiognomy.

Li Zhuiyuan didn’t put blind faith in these theories. But he believed in probability.

That boy—“Yongyong”—probably wasn’t their biological child.

Just then, police cars arrived.

After handing Wang Chaonan over, Tan Yunlong let the officers take him into custody.

Once the suspect was in the car, the plastic bag in Li Zhuiyuan’s hands began to tremble slightly.

Wisps of black smoke, invisible to ordinary people, began to rise.

Her killer had been caught.

She could finally rest.

From the black smoke, Tang Qiuying bowed to the boy in gratitude.

“Thank you… I really…”

“Get lost.”

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