The sun was high in the sky.
The breeze was warm, but the mood of the people at the recovery scene varied.
Jiang Yuan and Mei Fang were together, picking up bones with rotting flesh into a plastic barrel, while the remaining decaying flesh in the snakeskin bag mixed with body fluids, soil, maggots, and other matter, creating a nauseating soup.
The bottom of the snakeskin bag had broken open, but it was unclear whether it had been punctured or bored through by insects.
Jiang Yuan suppressed his emotions as much as possible. At this moment, there was no place for cheers, sighs of regret were pointless, and even speculating about the case was meaningless.
The scene was filled with astute officers pondering and contemplating, and even more experienced detectives who understood the case better than Jiang Yuan understood mutton. They were also waiting for Jiang Yuan to provide more clues to combine with the information they already had to make judgments.
