In the corridors of the Jiangcheng City Public Security Bureau, Instructor Zhang Chao walked briskly at the forefront.
The sound of leather shoes striking the marble floor echoed crisply.
His brows slightly furrowed, beads of sweat faintly visible on his forehead, obviously pondering some important matter.
Following behind him were four young police officers, each carrying a hint of curiosity and puzzlement.
The detective Qin in the middle occasionally glanced up, while Zhang habitually pushed the glasses up on his nose.
Xiaoqiang suddenly stopped, pointed at the heavy iron door in front of them, and asked in surprise, "Instructor, we're coming here?"
The words "Archive Room" on the door were slightly faded but still clearly visible.
The paint on the iron door had started to peel, revealing dark red rust underneath, exuding a sense of time's passage.
