Wang Chong found their words very pleasing. These constables had spent years among the common folk; every one of them was shrewd, and they spoke most agreeably. He smiled. "It was only luck. To solve White Chrysanthemum's case, we still need all my colleagues' diligent efforts. I merely hold the title."
The dozens of constables exchanged glances, all slightly excited. Wang Chong had twice yielded the credit for killing White Chrysanthemum. Narihai had needed to extract a confession under torture only to learn a distorted truth, but these seasoned investigators, shrewd as they were, could judge the truth from a few stray words. That was precisely why they had hurried over to pay their respects to Wang Chong: this superior truly loved giving away credit.
As for why Wang Chong did not covet credit, these constables had long since "understood that perfectly." The elderly constable who had spoken earlier smiled, his manner twice as respectful. "We have prepared a few modest gifts for you, Chief Wang. With so little time, the gifts are humble. We hope you will not laugh at our ignorance of proper courtesy."
He clapped his hands, and several runners carried in five chests. Another runner carried a bamboo cage with its opening tightly bound in black cloth.
The old constable said, "These chests contain the modest gifts we prepared. Inside this bamboo cage are twenty or thirty strange snakes caught by nearby villagers. These strange snakes are highly venomous and move like the wind. They have been biting people indiscriminately nearby, killing more than a dozen innocent villagers."
Wang Chong remembered the White Camel Tribe's foremost warrior, who had been skilled at handling snakes, and could not help cursing inwardly, That man deserved to die.
He had indeed overlooked these little snakes. After all, in the