Chapter 68: Searching the Residences

Luo Le and Du Lengding’s accounts differed sharply, making the physical evidence all the more crucial.

The Task Force immediately pulled the surveillance footage from Sunset Funeral Home and cross-referenced it with the timestamps on the photos.

They found no sign of Du Lengding’s vehicle in any of the recordings. The back gate never opened once. Everything remained calm and undisturbed.

But the technicians spotted something off during their deeper analysis—traces of deletions and alterations in the footage. Someone had looped segments from different dates to overwrite the real recordings, multiple times over. And those tampered sections lined up perfectly with the windows around the photo timestamps, matching one for one.

Xian Liyang asked the funeral home staff who had access to the surveillance recordings.

“Usually the logistics assistant, who checks them daily. But the director reviews them periodically too.”

“How often does the director check?”

“It’s irregular. Sometimes once a month, other times a few times in a week, whenever it crosses his mind.”

Xian Liyang exchanged a glance with his colleague. The timing matched the irregular pattern in the photos—frequent at times, sparse at others.

“Who handles the area from the frozen storage room to the back yard?”

“No fixed person in charge. If there’s a cleaned body ready, the on-duty staff moves it to storage. The back yard is mainly for rinsing and drying equipment—no need for a dedicated watch.”

“Is there a set schedule when no one can approach the freezer or the back yard?”

The staff member thought for a moment and shook his head. “Those areas aren’t private. Any on-duty worker can come and go freely.”

Xian Liyang nodded and shifted angles. “Aside from statutory holidays, do you get any special time off?”

The staff member hemmed and hawed, stalling the questioning.

“No worries,” Xian Liyang said. “We’re just gathering info. We won’t interfere with your schedules or habits.”

“Sometimes when things are slow and we don’t need the full crew, the director lets us take half a day off—like a morning or an afternoon.”

“Do you remember the specific times?”

The staff member shook his head. “It’s all down to luck. No pattern.”

Xian Liyang had already compiled the photo timestamps on a sheet of paper. He slid it over. “Any of these ring a bell for time off?”

The staff member racked his brain for a long while, then dug through his chat logs to confirm. Three of the timestamps matched days they’d had off. But on those days, the director had handled the bodies himself—a true model boss who inspired his staff.

On the drive back, team members reviewed footage from other areas of the funeral home, hunting for angles that might catch the freezer-to-back-yard path. Unfortunately, those sections had been wiped clean. No trace of any irregularities remained.

“Distracting the staff and deleting the footage? That doesn’t scream ‘following orders.’ Director Luo seems way too invested in moving those bodies—like he couldn’t wait to ship out a couple more.”

“He’s suspicious as hell. Tell the interrogation team to turn up the heat!”

But in the Interrogation Room, Luo Le had his story ready when they broke the news to him. He acted like he’d rehearsed it all, just waiting for the cops to bite.

“Officer Du ordered me to do it. I thought it was shady too. She said the government needed bodies, and the ones I gave her were unclaimed—no cremation or freezing mandates. But what if relatives showed up someday? Could spark trouble. So we had to erase any signs they’d been used.”

“If you thought it was shady, why not check with the Police Bureau or a higher-up?”

Luo Le shook his head vigorously, his face the picture of grievance, as if he were moments from dabbing at tears with a tissue.

“She’s from the Police Bureau! Who better to confirm with? But I played it smart anyway. Every time she came for bodies, I’d snap a photo of her car—date, location, the works. Just in case.”

And now “just in case” had hit. The photos proved useful. But Luo Le’s explanation didn’t win the police over. They wouldn’t take anyone’s word at face value until the facts were straight. His story, though, struck them as especially far-fetched, and for the moment, they couldn’t poke holes in it.

“Whosever orders, your actions were illegal. You’ll face consequences.”

“Officer, I know. I’m ready to pay for it. But please—nail the real criminal. Don’t let her keep harming society!”

“What are you getting at?”

“Du Lengding—no, Officer Du until proven guilty. I suspect she’s tied to the Sern. Stealing bodies to profit their kind!”

The officers stared in surprise. It aligned perfectly with the Guard Institute’s suspicions.

“Why think that?” they pressed.

“Sometimes, not long after she hauls off a body, a similar one shows up needing immediate cremation. I try to ID it, but the face is too damaged. And they’re always Sern bodies. Makes you wonder: What if the ‘on-site death’ wasn’t Sern at all? Just made to look like one, then sent back.”

The interrogator’s face darkened as Luo Le kept fanning the flames.

“And get this—I once glimpsed Officer Du’s wrist. There’s a scar on the bone there. That’s prime spot for Sern tribal tattoos. Couldn’t help thinking: What if it used to have a pattern, and someone erased it?”

“Of course, that’s just my hunch,” Luo Le added. “You’ll sort it out, officers. I trust you’ll enforce the law fairly, no covering for friends!”

…

At the Wei Investigation Institute, the surveillance review was complete—AI scans and manual checks exhausted every angle.

So the one certainty: they couldn’t confirm the camera’s whereabouts.

Yesuiying remained impassive, her demeanor as affable as ever, like a professor checking in on students. “Can’t pin it down? Then share your theories. One each.”

An Erdong and the two analysts had theirs ready and laid them out.

“First: The camera stayed in Kuper’s bag to the hotel. No room surveillance—he hides it. Then someone entering, or the next guest, walks off with it.”

“Second: After bagging it, pickpockets snag it in Gourmet City. They know the camera spots, dodging them clean. We miss it.”

“Third: Kuper hands it off before the hotel, evading surveillance and tails. No trace of to whom or where.”

“Which seems likeliest?”

The analysts glanced at one another. No consensus.

In the end, eyes turned back to Xileng Restaurant. Kuper and Du Lengding’s meal became the prime suspect—the one solid lead.

After the discussion, An Erdong called the Police Bureau, requesting a deep dive on Du Lengding’s home for the camera.

…

The Police Bureau Task Force’s field team split into two. One headed to Du Lengding’s place, the other to Luo Le’s, raiding both simultaneously.

Du Lengding’s home matched her vibe: cold. Marble floors and matte wallpaper drained the color from the space.

Every item served a practical purpose—no extras, no decorations. Everything pristine and orderly, gleaming like polished stone.

It made the search a breeze. One sweep confirmed no target item. The yard held only a simple wooden table and chairs under a shelter, surrounded by brick pavers, stone, and plants. Mint leaves gave off their sharp scent.

Then came the rummaging. Even drawers revealed no clutter—items aligned in perfect grids, straighter than a drill team’s formation.

Not for nothing was she their Captain Du. Even her place saved them time.

They did find a camera in the end—hers, personal. Photos checked: nothing suspicious.

Luo Le’s place was the opposite. Clutter everywhere, matching his wild hair—though more abundant. If he’d tossed an item per hair lost, he’d be bald, and the rooms still crammed full.

Searchers stood, knelt, hustled for hours. Their haul contrasted sharply with Du Lengding’s team: three fake plates and a stash of heavy dope.

The group leader eyed the spoils and wiped his brow. “Director Luo plays rough—whatever’s illegal, he’s got it.”

…

Compared to Luo Le’s fireworks, Du Lengding stayed cool in the interrogation chair. She carried herself like the lead investigator, steering the room and feeding leads to the operatives.

“You might check hospitals and labs,” she suggested. “Since Director Luo asked if I needed cadavers, he could’ve tapped other sources.”

Police followed up right away with nearby facilities. Sure enough, someone recent had inquired about bodies or organs for research.

Tracking the caller? Public phones from scattered shops.

They pulled footage, matched timestamps to faces. Bingo: Director Luo himself, disguised. Clothes change, but height, build, gait—all screamed him.

Xian Liyang reviewed the search logs and footage, leaning hard for the first time.

“Luo Le’s lying. He’s got body-trafficking written all over him!”

…

While police chased the “body hauling case,” the Guard Institute pressed on the “camera case.”

An Erdong’s Internal Investigation Section toiled without breakthroughs—just sweat. Days of dead ends and overtime had him fried. Finally, rotation let him head home for rest, eyes begging mercy.

Driving out, he passed the Taina River and spotted Wen Du ahead. She turned, waved.

“Mr. An, heading home?”

“Yeah, earliest in days. You just off overtime too?”

“Yep, but lighter load than yours.” Wen Du eyed the road ahead. “Thornberry Street, right?”

“Two blocks, yeah.” An Erdong got it. “Business there?”

“A uni colleague made chocolate cookies—picking them up. Mind a ride in your sweet ride?”

“Jump in!”

Wen Du got on well with institute folks, easy talker. An Erdong welcomed the carpool chat.

Ji Tingxi had practically turned the Information Room into childhood-friend territory with her. Special Action Department operatives treated Wen Du warmly too—solid front with leadership.

Lately, rumors swirled of a falling-out. Ji Tingxi’s visits had dropped off.

An Erdong ignored it. No breakup announcement? Still treat as besties. Sparks could reignite anytime.

Better safe than sorry.

“Miss Wen, your friends are everywhere—citywide network?”

“No choice. Used to teach—tons of students. They grow up, become friends.” Wen Du smiled wryly, the benevolent mentor.

“Miss lecturing?”

“It’s fine.” Wen Du gazed out the window. “But wild card like me? Sometimes tense, lagging the pace.”

An Erdong chuckled. “Early days, we were all wild cards—various fields thrown together. Stretch the legs, and we’re in step.”

Wen Du laughed, but she knew better. Their “wild” came with prior security and intel from State Security. Wei Investigation Institute’s bar was sky-high. Hers? Luck, plus North County polyglot cred for Information Room director.

No more institute talk. Wen Du steered to the weekend ahead, pulling a paper box from her bag as she spoke. Flat sheet at first, but folded along creases into a neat square resting in her palm.

An Erdong entered the bustling district, slowed. Side-eye on Wen Du’s moves—he nearly slammed the brakes.

“What’s that? What is it?”

“Packaging for the cookies later. Folds easy—beats smashing in my bag.”

“It looks… just like… so unique!”

Surveillance overdose had wired An Erdong’s eyes for camera shapes.

Wen Du’s box was solid silver, black band at the top quarter, logo string upper right.

Dead ringer for the missing camera. From five meters? He’d mix them up.

“Miss Wen, where’d you get that packaging?”

“Not bought—just came with dessert once. Kept it for the fold.”

“Which shop?”

Wen Du smiled, the perfect dessert clerk. “Purple Taro, in Gourmet City. Try it—kids’ll love.”