"Come on, tell us, what's the situation?"
Mu Zhiyang stepped forward, stood in front of the local man, and took the opportunity to ask some questions. He had worked at the police station and the criminal police team, and he naturally had a very reliable feeling when facing parties involved or the public.
The local man who came to inquire was a male in his fifties or sixties, perhaps not that old, but he looked rather aged, with patches of gray in his hair, rough exposed skin. He glanced at Mu Zhiyang, then at Jiang Yuan, and asked, "You're cops, aren't you? Right? Are you all cops?"
"How did you figure that out?" Mu Zhiyang still asked a question.
"You're wearing police pants." The local pointed it out, then continued, "My son is also a policeman, he used to wear these pants a lot when he came home. His name is Fang Guanhua, do you know him?"
Several people shook their heads.
Mu Zhiyang asked, "What's your name?"
