Chapter 77: The Strange Minced Meat

Huang Xiaotao immediately called her department, reporting the situation to the criminal investigation team. Before the police arrived, she flashed her badge and ordered the bun shop owner to halt all sales. The plump, greasy-faced man behind the counter looked stunned.

"What's going on, officer? Did someone get food poisoning from my buns?"

The crowd waiting in line began murmuring in confusion.

"What happened? Why are the police involved?"

"Master Tang is such a nice man. What could he have done wrong?"

"Come on, just let us buy our buns first. I already paid!"

"Exactly! My family's waiting at home for these!"

Clearly, the locals adored this bun shop. Facing their rising complaints, Huang Xiaotao shot me a glance, signaling me to hold my tongue. I quickly caught on—revealing the buns were made from human meat would spark public panic.

She addressed the crowd with an official tone: "Apologies, everyone. We suspect this vendor is connected to an ongoing investigation."

"Right now? You had to pick this moment?"

"He's been here for years! You cops must have the wrong guy."

"Fine, arrest him, but at least let us take our buns!"

Huang Xiaotao was struggling to hold the line. She looked to me for help, so I stepped forward and said, "We suspect the meat being used is from diseased pigs. If that's true, eating these could lead to serious infections."

That instantly changed the mood.

"Diseased pork?! Are you serious?"

"Oh my God, I eat these all the time. Am I going to get sick?"

Of course, not everyone cared.

"Whatever. We've all eaten gutter oil and fake additives. What's one more poison?"

Many actually nodded in agreement. People joke that Chinese stomachs are ironclad, but that's not true—toxins build up in your liver and kidneys. Sooner or later, they take their toll.

The bun vendor, still flustered, pleaded, "Officer, please don't slander me! I source all my meat through proper channels. I've never broken the law—I'm just trying to run a small business!"

Although the customers couldn't get their buns, they didn't leave, gathering instead to watch the spectacle unfold. Huang Xiaotao didn't press the issue. "Please pack up your shop. We'll discuss this further at the station."

With a long sigh, the owner began putting things away, looking like a man resigned to bad luck.

I called Wang Dali and asked him to bring some of my equipment—just in case we found a body in the back. Better to be prepared.

After hanging up, Huang Xiaotao asked, "Hey… do you really think he's guilty?"

I shook my head. "His reaction seems genuine. There's probably more to this. But…" I paused. "There's a slim chance he's a true psychopath. Someone who feels no fear… even in front of cops."

"Now that you say it like that, he probably is innocent," Huang Xiaotao muttered. "Are we lucky or cursed? We go out for a stroll and stumble across a case like this. You're sure it's human meat?"

"Absolutely. But if you don't believe me, we'll let the forensics team run a DNA test."

"That's standard protocol," she nodded. "Human meat buns… this reminds me of that case in Macau."

I knew the one—The Eight Immortals Restaurant Massacre. A family of nine murdered, chopped up, and turned into barbecued pork buns. The killer even sold them to unsuspecting customers. They made a movie out of it starring Anthony Wong—The Untold Story. I saw it in a VHS rental hall when I was a kid. It caused such a stir that bun shops in my town had no business for a month. Eventually, protests from vendors got the film pulled.

"Damn it," Huang Xiaotao muttered. "Just thinking about what we nearly swallowed makes me want to puke. Guess I'll drop a few pounds from the trauma."

"You're not fat," I said.

"How would you know? Have you felt me up?" she teased.

I turned red again, speechless.

Just then, several police cars arrived, cordoning off the area with tape. I spotted Xiao Zhou from the tech team. He walked up and grinned, "Officer Huang, all dressed up like that… You two weren't on a date, were you?"

"No!" we both shouted—her with irritation, me in embarrassment.

Xiao Zhou scratched his head. "Okay, okay. I'll start collecting samples for lab testing."

While one officer took the vendor aside for questioning, Huang Xiaotao and I entered the shop to begin our own investigation. The back room was the kitchen. No hacked-up corpses or blood splatter. In fact, it was spotless—neatly floured counters, freshly wrapped buns, stacked sacks of flour, and large bags of frozen meat.

I split a few buns and dug into the raw filling with my fingers, examining them closely. The raw meat made it easier to identify things. I sniffed it carefully.

"What did you find?" she asked.

"It's human meat," I said grimly. "But it's been heavily seasoned with medicinal herbs—traditional Chinese spices used for health tonics."

"No wonder it smelled so good…" She turned green and retched into her sleeve. "Wait, how the hell did you even know it was human meat? Don't tell me you've eaten it before!"

"Of course not!" I said, mortified. "It's just elimination. It's not pork, beef, lamb, donkey, or dog. At first, I thought it might be rat meat—some shady places use that to improve texture—but something felt wrong. My instincts kicked in."

"Your taste buds are that sharp?"

"Taste is 70% smell. Humans detect flavor mostly through their nose. Here, I'll prove it: go home, smell an apple while eating a pear. You'll swear you're eating an apple."

"Ah, no wonder you said I had a scent earlier. I was wondering where that came from. Must be the body wash I used last night," she laughed.

"Right…" I muttered, blushing. It wasn't soap—it was her natural scent. But there was no way I was admitting that.

We finished our sweep of the shop and stepped out to question the owner. He was nearly in tears as he spoke to the officers.

"Please, officer, I swear I didn't know anything about this human meat stuff. I run this place to feed my family, not to harm people!"

Huang Xiaotao dismissed the officer and took over the questioning herself.

The man's name was Tang, 48 years old, from a rural town. His wife and kids lived back home. He'd come to Nanshi over twenty years ago, started as a kitchen hand, learned some skills, and eventually opened this shop. Every day, he worked from dawn to dusk, sending most of his earnings to support his family.

As for the meat, Tang said he bought it from a local processing plant. They delivered it every morning. He had no idea it wasn't pork.

"My buns are honest food! I never add artificial flavors. I even eat them myself!" he cried.

While she interviewed him, I studied his microexpressions. He wasn't lying.

Looks like the real problem was at the meat supplier.