Chapter Eighty-Two: The Report of Doubts

Yang Luo.

This was one of the three death cases related to Sheng Yi before the 8.12 major case.

But, on the surface, he seemed to have nothing to do with the deaths of Wang Ruo and Huang Cheng.

The first thing Lin Heng searched for was the death record of this name.

According to Zong Yuan, Yang Luo had already been diagnosed with a heart tumor before his death, with little time left to live. In this state, even if his name appeared on the police department's deceased information page, Lin Heng wouldn’t have found it unusual.

—However, there was no such name. A search for "Yang Luo" on the police intranet showed his most recent status as "alive."

This allowed Lin Heng to breathe a little easier.

The living can always provide more information than the dead. Although Yang Luo seemed unrelated to the 8.12 case or to Wang Ruo and Huang Cheng's deaths, at least here was a potential channel for information.

Moreover, in the midst of a search full of the word “deceased,” the sudden appearance of a living person was undeniably comforting.

The intranet database not only showed that Yang Luo was alive, but also listed his registered address and movements. Anywhere requiring an ID card or valid identification would be logged in the networked database.

So Lin Heng followed the trail: for the ten-odd days leading up to July 15, Yang Luo had been hospitalized in "Qingxia City Sixth People’s Hospital." After leaving the hospital on July 15, his whereabouts were uncertain, but on August 15, Yang Luo went to the Qingxia City train station and boarded a train bound for his registered city, a third-tier city in a southwestern province.

After that, his movements remained in that third-tier city and the provincial capital of the same southwestern province.

The places where his identity was frequently verified were mostly five-star hotels and large provincial or municipal conference venues. Additionally, several companies were registered under his name; the largest of them had over twenty million in registered capital.

…Wait a minute?

Lin Heng felt as if a nerve in his brain had been struck.

He stared intently at the computer screen, his expression puzzled.

From the information provided by Zong Yuan, he could confirm that Yang Luo was a tragic employee dismissed due to a terminal illness.

Moreover, according to his registration information, Yang Luo's parents were rural farmers, and none of his relatives were wealthy or influential—but why, after returning from Qingxia City, did a man who should have been impoverished by illness suddenly rise to the pinnacle of life?

…Furthermore, the name of Yang Luo's hometown city gave Lin Heng an unshakable sense of familiarity.

Lin Heng pulled up the files on the 8.12 case to confirm that this feeling wasn’t an illusion.

Because among the clues widely solicited from the public by the 8.12 special task force, there was one stating: "In a certain third-tier city in the southwest, a newly ascendant company has been reported for its rampant overbearing behavior, muscling into every industry."

And the name of that city was exactly where Yang Luo was currently located.

The company reported was precisely the largest under Yang Luo’s name.

—Was this merely coincidence?

—Could this really be a simple accident?

Lin Heng stared at the computer screen, his mouth dry and his tongue parched, finally feeling as if he’d brushed up against the edge of a great event—starting from Wang Ruo and Huang Cheng, leading to the 8.12 case, as though it all could be connected.

Although he didn’t yet understand the exact chain linking them, or the course of events, Lin Heng was certain that he’d grasped something crucial.

“All the points of suspicion… have come to light,” he murmured to himself.

“Next, this will require cross-regional investigation and coordination with relevant departments. I don’t have that much authority, but I can write a report on these suspicious points and submit it to the task force… That should be enough to overturn the previous preliminary conclusions.”

—

That night, Lin Heng stayed in the provincial office, drafting a preliminary report of suspicious points and compiling all the information he had gathered along the way as attachments.

Then, he dozed for a few hours on the office sofa—though he hardly slept; his mind was shrouded in mist.

All the tangled clues swirled in his mind, forming something like clouds or fog, making his dreams a jumbled mess.

Images and photos of the relevant people appeared in his mind—Cai Xin, Zong Yuan, Wang Changming… Wang Ruo, Huang Cheng, Yang Luo…

At last, when he woke in the morning, Lin Heng felt his brain was clogged, as if too much garbage had built up from shallow sleep the night before. Only after carefully brushing his teeth and washing his face at the sink did he finally feel somewhat refreshed.

After that, Lin Heng didn’t go home. Instead, he left the provincial office, carrying his work ID, law enforcement recorder, and notebook, and hurried off to investigate and collect evidence at each relevant location.

First stop: “Qingjiang Province Sixth People’s Hospital.”

Several attending physicians from the cardiology department were on duty, and Lin Heng’s luck was good—the doctor who had treated Yang Luo was there. After showing him Yang Luo’s photo, Lin Heng received a definite answer.

“Yes, this is the patient I treated at the time. I remember him very well,” the doctor said with a nod.

“He had a cardiac tumor—one of the rarest forms—and his tumor mass was enormous.”

“My question may seem a bit abrupt but… is it possible he was misdiagnosed?” Lin Heng asked cautiously. But the doctor shook his head, showing no sign of being offended.

“This patient did not come directly to our hospital for treatment; he had already visited several others beforehand, all with the same diagnosis. By the time he left the hospital, he was physically exhausted, with only a few months left to live at most. However, before he left, he said something to me that I remember vividly—‘The greatest terminal illness in this world is poverty.’”

Lin Heng narrowed his eyes; of all the doctor’s words, that line drew his attention most.

“Can you be sure this patient had only a few months left to live? What if he is still alive and well today?” Lin Heng asked.

“If he had undergone surgery to remove the tumor while hospitalized, and had good luck in recovery, then yes, he could still be alive today, perhaps even for several more years. But if he left the hospital and received no further modern medical treatment, and now is not only alive but capable of basic movement—then all I can say is, that would be a miracle of modern medicine,” the doctor replied gravely.

Lin Heng nodded thoughtfully.

—

Lin Heng left the hospital, but before he did, he copied the surveillance footage from the day Yang Luo was discharged.

The man in the footage looked emaciated and fragile, moving slowly, as if the slightest breeze might topple him.

Lin Heng saved the footage, then moved on to his next stop.

—Qingxia City Railway Station.

Unlike other locations, the train station was blanketed with surveillance cameras, and the footage was kept for a long time. Lin Heng was sure the records of Yang Luo leaving Qingxia City would still be there.

And sure enough, he found what he was looking for.

In the station’s surveillance control room, Lin Heng explained his purpose and identity to the officers, handed them Yang Luo’s photo, and told them roughly when Yang Luo had boarded the train, so they could narrow the search window.

To his surprise, the officer glanced at the photo, loaded it into the system, clicked a few times, and soon several video segments appeared. Using Lin Heng’s provided photo as a template, the system quickly matched it against the vast archive of surveillance footage and found the result in a matter of moments.

“This is… facial recognition technology. You use this now too?” Lin Heng asked, a little surprised.

“It’s nothing new. Train stations were among the first to use facial recognition and big data,” the officer replied with a friendly smile, pointing to the top result on the screen.

“There you go—August 15th surveillance footage—this should be what you want, right?”

Lin Heng nodded, and the officer pulled up the footage. In the center of the screen, highlighted by a red circle, was the man in question. At a glance, Lin Heng clenched his fist.

—It was Yang Luo.

But in the very instant he saw the footage, Lin Heng could scarcely believe his eyes.

—Because the man appearing in the video walked with vigor, his figure upright and robust. Under the high-definition camera, Lin Heng could even make out the faintly arrogant smile and healthy glow on his face—he looked like a completely different person from the man who had left the hospital, frail and on the verge of death!

He had left the hospital at death’s door—so how, at this moment, did he appear so healthy?

In that instant, Lin Heng knew he had finally found the thread of this case.

—

With copies of both surveillance videos and a stack of interview notes, Lin Heng returned to the provincial office.

Throughout the weekend, Lin Heng sat in his office, working overtime to polish and supplement his report of suspicious points.

At last, as Sunday ended and Monday morning arrived, Lin Heng finally completed all his work. Looking at the thick stack of investigation materials and the comprehensive report on his computer, his heart swelled with a sense of accomplishment and joy.

Yet, he never intended to submit the report alone. Before handing it in, he needed someone else to read it.

So he sat in his office, waiting for Huang Yuanguang to appear.

“—Xiao Lin?”

At nine o’clock on Monday morning, Huang Yuanguang arrived at the office almost on the dot, leisurely carrying a newspaper. Upon seeing Lin Heng—disheveled, clearly unkempt for several days—he immediately remembered their conversation on Friday.

“What happened? Did your girlfriend break up with you?”

Lin Heng smiled; it was just the sort of opening his chief would use. He cut straight to the point: “Chief, over the past two days I’ve followed up on leads in the 8.12 case. Through interviews and surveillance footage, I analyzed the suspicious points and compiled a report—it could possibly overturn the task force’s current conclusions. Could you take a look?”

At the mention of the “8.12 case,” Huang Yuanguang raised his eyebrows, his eyes saying, “Just as I thought.”

He smiled, put down the newspaper, said, “I’ll be right there,” tidied up his desk, washed up, and then, with a freshly brewed cup of green tea in hand, sat down beside Lin Heng.

“All right, let me have a look.”

Lin Heng gave up his seat, watching Huang Yuanguang with anticipation.

Sitting at the computer, carefully holding his tea, Huang Yuanguang read the report. As the electronic pages turned and each piece of evidence was laid out, his expression shifted from casual indifference to growing seriousness.

When he finally finished, Huang Yuanguang gently set down his cup, falling silent for a long time as if pondering something deeply.

Lin Heng waited quietly for his reaction, but after two days of continuous work he was fighting drowsiness, eyelids heavy as if at war with each other.

At last, Huang Yuanguang turned to him, his voice solemn:

“Xiao Lin, besides you and me, who else has seen this report?”

(End of chapter)