Jiang An's gaze suddenly sharpened. He quickly walked to the clothesline and gently touched the basketball jersey with his fingers—the fabric was dry.
"You are lying!"
He turned and stared directly at Li Changhe, his voice low and powerful.
"Your son never went away for work; he's living right here and recently wore these clothes."
Hearing this, Wang Yang immediately understood, striding up to Li Changhe and demanding sternly, "Tell the truth! Are you covering for your son?"
"No! Absolutely not!"
Li Changhe waved his hands in panic, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. "He's been working along the coast, never... never came back..."
"Then how do you explain these clothes?"
Jiang An grabbed the sneakers and pointed to the fresh mud on the soles. "The mud on these shoes is still wet. Did your sixty-year-old father wear them to play basketball?"
Faced with the irrefutable evidence, the faces of Li Changhe and his wife turned pale.
