After leaving the café, Xiang Kun stopped by a supermarket to buy a few things before taking a ride home.
The 20,000 yuan reward from the police was income he had never expected. It was not much, but for someone who had gone an entire month without income and still had mortgage payments to make, it was a godsend.
For a moment, he even fantasized about becoming a professional "bounty hunter," specializing in catching fugitives for rewards. There seemed to be such a profession overseas.
But it was only a passing thought. He knew perfectly well that there was no room for such a profession to exist in China.
His senses might now far surpass those of ordinary people, and his ability to track by scent might even exceed that of hunting dogs and police dogs, but when it came to actually catching criminals, the police—and the entire social system assisting them—were the true inescapable net, with high-definition cameras everywhere, facial recognition becoming widespread, and real-name registration fully implemented across communications, transportation, lodging, and other fields.
Xiang Kun's encounter with the bleached-hair suspect on the street, followed by identifying and tracking him through his scent, had in fact mostly been luck.
From what he later learned while chatting with Officer Chen, even if Xiang Kun had not happened to catch the bleached-hair suspect on the street, and even if that kid had disguised himself to look completely different and obtained a fake ID, his capture would only have been a matter of time. Xiang Kun had merely brought that time forward a little.
Of course, even if there really were an opportunity to become a bounty hunter, Xiang Kun would only admire the idea and fantasize about it. He would never actually do it—once or twice might be fine, but