Siheyuan came through and sent Jia Zhang to prison

Ma Xin paused for a moment upon hearing this, her fingers tightening unconsciously over the notebook, a barely perceptible flicker in her eyes—Jiang Hu was still arrogantly defiant in the interrogation room yesterday, spitting everywhere, how could he be dead in just one night? The speed was far too suspicious. She quickly composed herself, suppressing her doubts, and nodded: "Okay, I'll go right now, and report back to you immediately if I find anything." With that, she hurried after the police officer pushing the hearse, walking quickly towards the morgue, her heart pounding: Jiang Hu's death was so sudden; there were probably many shady dealings involved, and perhaps even more complex relationships were at play.

He Feng sat behind his large desk, his fingertips rhythmically tapping lightly on the smooth mahogany surface, producing soft "tap, tap" sounds, as if tapping out the invisible pressure in the air. His gaze was as deep and unfathomable as a still pool, fixed on Zhao Lei standing opposite him. His tone was unreadable, yet carried an undeniable authority: "Come to my office. I have something to discuss with you."

Zhao Lei's heart skipped a beat. The voice felt like a stone thrown into an ice cave, instantly chilling him to the bone. He knew without a doubt it was about the prison incident—a beggar of unknown origin had infiltrated a perfectly good cell, and to make matters worse, Jiang Hu, someone who knew too much about the inside story, was imprisoned there. This slip-up was like dancing on a knife's edge. He lowered his head, the back of his head almost touching his back, and obediently followed He Feng into the office. The back of his shirt was already soaked with cold sweat, sticking stickily to his skin, making him feel extremely uncomfortable.

After all, such a mishap occurred within their own jurisdiction. If word got out, not only would they lose face, but their hard-won path to promotion, which they had worked so hard for so many years and finally saw a glimmer of hope, would be completely ruined by this setback.

Upon entering the office, Zhao Lei stood obediently at the desk, his hands pressed tightly against the seams of his trousers, his knuckles white from the pressure, barely daring to breathe. This whole affair was his negligence—when assigning guards, he'd assumed they were all old colleagues and, for the sake of convenience, hadn't rigorously checked the identities of those entering and leaving, even going through the motions with body searches, which had given the beggar an opportunity to cause all this trouble. Now, facing He Feng's eyes, which seemed to see right through him, he felt his face burning, as if he'd been slapped in public, filled with indescribable guilt.

He Feng didn't beat around the bush. He picked up the enamel mug on the table, took a sip of tea, and went straight to the point about the inadequate guarding: "Zhao Lei, tell me about what happened at the prison. How do you explain that?" His tone wasn't harsh, but every word carried immense weight, laying the seriousness of the matter bare on the table—Jiang Hu's identity was special, and if something happened to him in prison, the people and events involved could overturn half the regime; as for the beggar who had infiltrated, his origins and motives were unknown. Whether he was gathering information or plotting an attack was still a mystery, and the slightest mistake could lead to a huge disaster.

Zhao Lei kept his head down, his spine almost bent into a bow, without uttering a single word of explanation. It was indeed his dereliction of duty; any explanation seemed pale and powerless in the face of undeniable mistakes. He just listened intently, fine beads of sweat forming on his forehead, sliding down his temples, and dripping onto his shirt collar, leaving a small, dark stain.

Having finished his lecture, He Feng put down his enamel mug, the bottom clinking softly against the table, breaking the silence in the office. He changed the subject, his gaze sharp as he looked at Zhao Lei and asked, "It's too late for words now. Tell me, what should we do?"

Zhao Lei's heart skipped a beat. He knew the bureau chief was giving him an opportunity, but also testing his adaptability. He composed himself, took a deep breath, and mentally reviewed the whole story. After a moment of careful consideration, he looked up, his eyes filled with earnestness and determination: "Chief, in my opinion, the most urgent task is to find out where that beggar came from. It's impossible for a homeless man to sneak into a heavily guarded prison without anyone noticing. There must be someone behind him, or it might even be a setup that was planned long ago."

He paused, swallowed, and continued, "And the policeman Xiao Liu, who was in charge of receiving and arranging for the beggar to enter the cell, is the most suspicious. According to the rules, outsiders must undergo three checks before entering the prison: ID card, body search, and comparison with the registered information. But he easily released the man without even conducting the most basic body search. There must be something wrong here. Either he accepted a bribe, or someone caught him red-handed."

“I think we should split into two groups now,” Zhao Lei’s thoughts were becoming clearer, and his tone was more composed. “On the one hand, immediately retrieve the surveillance footage from the prison entrance and corridors, and check the beggar’s whereabouts frame by frame to see what he did after entering the cell and whether he had any contact with Jiang Hu; on the other hand, focus on observing Xiao Liu, send people to watch his whereabouts, check his recent bank statements to see who he has been in contact with, and whether there are any suspicious numbers in his call records. If we follow this line of investigation, we might be able to find out who is behind this.”

After listening, He Feng nodded slowly, a hint of approval showing deep in his eyes: "Good idea, you've grasped the key point." He stood up, walked to Zhao Lei, and patted him on the shoulder. "I'm entrusting this matter to you. If you need manpower or resources, just mobilize them directly; no need to ask for permission. I trust you can handle it well."

Zhao Lei was surprised that the bureau chief not only didn't pursue his responsibility but also trusted him so much. He felt a surge of confidence, his back straightened, and his eyes rekindled with fighting spirit. He nodded vigorously, his voice trembling slightly with excitement: "Please rest assured, Bureau Chief! I will definitely investigate thoroughly and will not let you down!"

After saying that, he turned and strode out of the office, his steps much lighter than when he came in. He was already calculating in his mind—he needed to hurry to the technical department to check the surveillance footage, have the archives find Xiao Liu's shift schedule and personnel file, and then contact the communications department to check the call records. Time was of the essence; he couldn't afford any more mistakes. This wasn't just about making up for a mistake, but also about proving himself right.

He Feng stood by the window, gazing at the deep night outside. His fingertips unconsciously traced a faint mist on the glass. His brows furrowed, and a heavy weight pressed on his heart—he truly hadn't expected these people to be so far-reaching, daring to act right under the nose of the police station.