"The deceased is fan Bowei, the director of the Xiangjiang Customs Department," a police officer from Xiangjiang introduced him to Zhao Yu, who was investigating the scene." 45 years old, divorced and single. He was killed between 3 to 4 a.m. On the 15th ..."
"Then ... How did you find out?" Zhao Yu squatted down and looked at the white line that was drawn at the place where the deceased was killed.
"Um ..." The police officer looked through the record and answered after more than ten seconds."Fan Bowei went to work today. Because of his important position, the unit called him, but no one picked up.
"In the end, the unit had to contact Fan Bowei's relatives, who came to check, and then found the crime scene ..."
"Relatives? What relatives?" Zhao Yu raised his head and asked.
"Um ..." This time, the young policeman panicked and quickly looked at the record. After a long time, he stammered,"it's ... It's fan Bowei's father!"