At this moment, Wang Yang noticed Jiang An wasn't speaking and turned to ask with concern, "Mr. Jiang, what's wrong?"
"Are you feeling a bit of heatstroke or discomfort?"
Jiang An gently shook his head, his voice calm, "No, I'm just contemplating some things."
His gaze remained locked on Li Changhe.
Years of being a detective made Wang Yang instantly aware of something.
He lowered his voice and urged, "Mr. Jiang, have you discovered something?"
"Or do you feel we've overlooked some details?"
Jiang An slowly put down his teacup, the tea lightly swaying in the cup. "Mr. Wang,"
His voice was soft yet unusually firm, "I suddenly have an idea, not sure if you think it's suitable."
"Go ahead,"
Wang Yang immediately sat up straight, "If it can help solve the case, we'll fully cooperate."
Jiang An's gaze turned toward the kitchen where Li Changhe was helping his wife prepare dinner.
He lowered his voice and said, "I want to thoroughly search Li Changhe's house again."
