February passed, and March arrived.
The weather gradually warmed up. The accumulated snow on the streets of Xingjing had completely melted, and the willow trees by the roadside were beginning to sprout tender green buds.
But inside the Fourth Squad's office area, none of these changes could be seen.
Underground Level Seven was always the same: constant temperature and humidity, forever brightly lit, with no distinction between day and night.
All they knew was that in these two months, they had completed what would normally be a year's worth of cases.
Zhou Bin tallied the numbers again. Since Li Mingyuan's case ended, the Fourth Squad had independently handled seventeen cases and co-handled twenty-three.
Added together, that made forty cases—exactly last year's grand total.
And it was only the end of March.
When he shared this number with the team, everyone was stunned.
Fang Xiaoxiao's eyes widened. "Forty cases? We closed forty cases in two months?"
