Miss Forensics – Chapter 13
by Little PandaPart One
Connections
Do you know who I am? I’m the ancestor of rogues!
“How’s that? A total bombshell. I only want this much—” The student with the gold chain stuck out two fingers and shook them.
The woman opposite him had dyed yellow hair in a wild blowout, standing with a lit cigarette dangling from her lips and an old Canon camera hanging around her neck. Seeing his gesture, she blew a smoke ring and turned to leave without a word.
“Hey, don’t be like that! Take a look first!” Panicking, the boy chased after her and shoved the photograph into her arms.
“It’s absolutely worth the price. Or… I can give you a discount… And you can help me write a few exam papers…”
The woman held the cigarette between her fingers and finally looked at him with a half-smile. “Fine. One thousand yuan, not a cent more. Give me the papers.”
While the boy bent over to rummage through his backpack, the woman flipped the photograph over. It was clearly a candid shot taken in secret, and the resolution was poor. But for tabloid news, the blurrier, the better—only ambiguity could spark the public’s imagination.
The woman in the photograph was indeed Ding Xue, and the man draped over her was someone whose name she couldn’t quite place.
Still, he looked somewhat familiar, even if she couldn’t recall his identity. At any rate, it certainly wasn’t her husband.
“This is…” She deliberately shook the photograph with a sharp, dismissive snap.
The boy handed over the test papers. “An extramarital affair! That’s our principal. It’s explosive news. I even came up with the headline for you: ‘Renowned Beautiful Teacher from Jiangcheng No. 1 High School Steps Out on Husband with Superior, Murdered over Passionate Affair!'”
He was boasting triumphantly when the woman slid the photograph into her bag. Feigning indifference, she pointed behind him. “Hey, look over there. Isn’t that one of your teachers?”
The boy instinctively looked back. The woman took off running.
“No—damn it!”
Before he could finish his sentence, he snapped back to his senses. The woman had already slipped away to the bus stop near the school gates. The bus had just arrived, and she squeezed her way onto it with the crowd, waving to him through the window just as the doors clamped shut.
The boy was fuming with rage. He spat viciously on the ground. “**! Don’t let me ever see you again!”
Lin Yan lowered the newspaper she was holding, stepped out of the newsstand, and raised her hand to hail a taxi. “Follow that bus.”
Following her interview with the Vice Principal, Song Yuhang went on to question several other teachers. She was met with a barrage of evasive excuses like, “Sorry, I really don’t know anything,” or, “I wasn’t very close to Teacher Ding.”
When asked if the deceased had ever been in conflict with anyone, nearly all of them gave the same answer.
“I don’t think so. Teacher Ding was a very nice person. But she did get extremely close to one of her students. You know how it is… That’s rather taboo in a school setting…”
That kind of hesitant, holding-back expression caught her attention.
Song Yuhang closed her notebook, resolving to meet this student named Zhou Mo.
“Hello? Chief Editor! Yes, yes… Go ahead…” The woman bowed and scraped over the phone as she walked. “Me? I’m out in the field, gathering material.”
“What the fuck are you gathering? You can’t write a single decent piece! It’s all petty, small-time trash! We need hits! Hits, do you understand?! Eye-catching stories! If this month’s circulation doesn’t go up, you’ll pack your bags and get the fuck out!”
The middle-aged man’s roar blasted through the speaker. Ning Que pulled the phone slightly away from her ear, her face still wearing a playful, shameless smirk.
“Yes, yes, I understand. Rest assured, this is going to be a massive seller. I just got a huge scoop on that female teacher who died at Jiangcheng No. 1 High School—”
Before she could finish her sentence, her path was blocked. A shadow fell across the concrete paving stones of the sidewalk.
She slowly looked up. A woman stood there with her arms crossed, looking at her with a half-smile. Her features were exceptionally striking, but her expression carried a distinctly malicious edge.
This is bad, Ning Que thought, is she a fellow reporter?
When Ning Que tried to sidestep her, Lin Yan matched her step for step. Ning Que shifted left, Lin Yan moved left; Ning Que shifted right, Lin Yan followed.
Ning Que cleared her throat and put on a fawning smile. “And who might this be… Looking for me?”
Lin Yan stopped and pointed to the backpack on her shoulders. “Hand over the photograph.”
Ning Que tightened her grip on her backpack straps. “A fellow reporter? Then you ought to know the rules. An exclusive story can’t just—”
Lin Yan pulled a stack of red bills1 from her wallet and snapped them. “Money makes the rules. Take the cash and get lost. Leave the photograph.”
Ning Que’s mind raced. The stack of cash was substantial, but it couldn’t compare to the security of a long-term paycheck. If the magazine’s sales didn’t recover this time, she would be the first to get fired. It had taken so much effort to secure this job in Jiangcheng; she couldn’t afford to lose it so easily.
“Fine, fine,” Ning Que said, reaching toward her bag and slowly drawing something out.
Lin Yan was growing impatient. “Hurry up.”
Before the words fully left her mouth, a thick stack of draft papers flew into her face, scattering to block her vision. Ning Que bolted.
Seeing her try the same trick again to hop onto a roadside motorcycle taxi, Lin Yan chased her down in three strides and delivered a flying kick straight to the center of her back. Ning Que tumbled onto the asphalt, sending the surrounding pedestrians scattering like startled birds.
Lin Yan dragged her back by the collar, slapping the money against her cheek. “Refusing a toast only to drink a forfeit,”2 she said, her voice icy.
Despite her slender frame, Lin Yan possessed surprising strength. When Ning Que tried to struggle, Lin Yan sat herself squarely on the reporter’s back. Ning Que was nearly crushed to death, her eyes rolling back as she practically foamed at the mouth.
Pinning Ning Que’s head with one hand to keep her still, Lin Yan yanked the backpack off her arm with the other. She unzipped it and rummaged through the contents—a camera, a voice recorder, and other gear—until she found a photograph tucked away in the innermost compartment. She slipped it into her own pocket.
Ning Que tried to struggle, but Lin Yan grabbed her by the hair and pulled her up. “Trying to play the rogue with this queen? You’re still too green. Do you know who I am? I’m the ancestor of rogues!”
“I’ll let you off this time. Get lost!”
Having said that, she let the woman go and stood up. From a distance, a patrolling police officer came running over, holding a baton. “Hey! What are you doing?!”
Lin Yan took two steps back. “Nothing… We’re not doing anything.”
With that, she took off, fleeing faster than a rabbit.
Only then did Ning Que stand up, supported by the officer. “Are you alright?” the officer asked. “Did you lose anything? Come with me to the station to file a report, and we’ll make sure to get your belongings back.”
Lin Yan’s kick had been far from light, sending a numbing shock straight through her back. Ning Que brushed off the officer’s hand and began limping around to pick up her scattered items and papers.
“I’m fine. No need.”
She stared in the direction Lin Yan had vanished, crumpling her draft papers in a tight, resentful grip.
“Hello? Is anyone home?” Song Yuhang knocked gently on the door twice. When no one answered, she stepped back to examine the building.
This was the West District of Jiangcheng. Separated from the East District by a single river, it was a completely different world.
Though called a building, it was merely a three-story low-rise. Clothes of both adults and children hung everywhere outside, and a spiderweb of electrical wires sliced the sky into chaotic fragments.
The alley was so cramped that only electric scooters could squeeze through. Just a short distance from her feet, an open sewer trench ran alongside the path, giving off a putrid stench.
Zhou Mo’s home was located here—a shanty tucked under the low-rise, constructed from sheet metal that baked hot under the sun. By the doorway sat a dying pot of sunflowers.
Song Yuhang turned to peer through a rust-eaten window. The curtains inside were tightly drawn, leaving the interior pitch-black.
Her gaze fell upon the iron padlock hanging on the door. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a piece of wire.
“You threw everything away, right?” Inside the KTV booth, the colorful disco lights flashed, casting shifting hues of pale green and white across his face.
The boy kept his head low, murmuring a quiet assent.
“Attaboy. Look, I know you’re short on cash. Take this money. If it’s not enough, just let me know.”
A stack of RMB bills lay on the table, a substantial sum.
The boy remained motionless, his head still bowed.
The other person gave him a push. “Are you stupid? Did you really think about telling—”
He cut himself off abruptly, swallowed hard, and changed his tune. “There’s less than a month left before the college entrance exam. Think about it. You’ve spent so many years studying. You’ve survived the hardest parts, and you’re right on the verge of making it out. Are you really going to throw it all away now?”
“Are you really content to be like this for the rest of your life? A wimp, a poor nobody?”
The boy’s throat bobbed, his voice hoarse. “But still—”
“You’re not like us. As for me, it doesn’t matter if I don’t get into college. Worst case, I’ll just go abroad to buy myself a degree. But if you don’t pass, you’ll never make something of yourself. Do you really want to live in that pigsty of yours for the rest of your life?”
“Xiao Zhou, do you know why people study? They talk about ordaining heaven and earth, securing life for the people, continuing the lost teachings of past sages, and establishing peace for all future generations3—but honestly, that’s all abstract. It’s wonderful if you think that way, but it’s fine if you don’t.”
“Most of us have to expend all our energy just to survive. We study hard simply to live a better life, to change our circumstances, to buy the things we want, and to pursue the people we love.”
“Success isn’t the only path to success, but studying is certainly a shortcut. It doesn’t cost you capital; it only requires your effort, over and over again. Xiao Zhou, I don’t want you to drop out. Keep fighting.”
The words still echoed in his ears, yet the one who had spoken them was already laid to rest forever beneath the earth.
The boy buried his face in his hands, a fragile wail tearing from his throat.
The music in the KTV booth blared at maximum volume. No one stopped his emotional release. After a long while, the music died down. The boy slowly lifted his head, his gaze falling upon the stack of RMB bills before him. His throat bobbed, and he reached out and took it.
At noon, the various investigation teams reconvened for a brief case analysis.
Zheng Chengrui went first. “I examined the computer the deceased, Ding Xue, used during her lifetime. There was nothing unusual on it, but when I checked her primary instant messaging tools, I found signs that her chat logs had been deleted.”
Song Yuhang leaned back in her chair, resting her chin on her hand. “With whom? And when can they be recovered?”
A photograph was enlarged on the projector screen. It showed a slightly plump man in a suit, wearing gold-rimmed glasses.
“The current principal of Jiangcheng No. 1 High School, Ge Jun.”
Song Yuhang understood. “This Ge Jun went to the provincial capital on business last Friday, the day of the murder. He’s a viable suspect. Have someone contact the Provincial Department. Invite him in for a little tea and chat.”
Zhang Jinhai paused, holding his teacup. “I’m afraid that’s inappropriate. After all, he’s the principal of a key municipal high school, and he’s also a National People’s Congress representative. We’d better wait until the chat logs are recovered and we have solid evidence before we act.”
Everyone turned their gaze to Song Yuhang. She offered no immediate reaction, merely twirling her pen between her fingers with a calm expression.
“What did Team Two find?”
An investigator stood up with a notebook. “We visited several of the largest secondhand markets in the city. We didn’t find any mobile phones matching the model of the deceased, Ding Xue. This model just hit the market and is quite expensive, so it probably wouldn’t be easy to sell off quickly anyway.”
Another investigator chimed in. “Additionally, we paid a visit to the home of Ding Xue’s mother. We learned that the marital relationship between the deceased and her husband was relatively harmonious. They had their arguments, but there was no history of domestic violence.”
Fang Xin stood up as well. “According to our interviews with neighbors, that’s indeed the case. Ding Xue and Sun Xiangming rarely argued. Furthermore, Sun Xiangming has an alibi for the night of the crime.”
Fang Xin presented a transcript of a statement from Sun Xiangming’s next-door neighbor. According to the neighbor, he had worked overtime that night and didn’t get home until past midnight. He ran into Sun Xiangming opening his door to collect a food delivery, and the two of them had greeted each other.
“We also checked with the food stalls downstairs, and Sun Xiangming did indeed order the meal. At the same time, we spoke with his manager at work, who confirmed that he had been assigned tasks that evening. His claim of working overtime at home was no lie.”
Song Yuhang knit her brows. “What about the surveillance footage?”
“This is the camera footage from his apartment building’s entrance. We watched it all night without blinking once. He definitely never left the building.”
“Are there any other exits?”
“No, we checked. The fire escape also leads down right next to the main entrance. To leave, he would have had to pass right under this camera.”
“In that case, Sun Xiangming fits neither the motive nor the window of opportunity, and he has a solid alibi. Captain Song, we should call off the surveillance on him.”
Zhang Jinhai looked over. The two of them often held opposing views: Song Yuhang leaned toward aggressive tactics, while Zhang Jinhai was more conservative. However, because his rank was one level higher than hers, they usually followed his lead unless Song Yuhang was unyielding.
Sure enough.
The woman sitting across from him nodded. “I have no objections.”
At that moment, the video on screen reached the section where the deceased, Ding Xue, walked out. The camera was positioned directly in front of the building entrance, capturing her movements clearly.
She could be seen stumbling along, her expression panicked as she repeatedly looked back over her shoulder. Yet, there was absolutely no one behind her.
“Stop. Rewind and play it again.”
Zheng Chengrui paused and rewound the footage.
Once more, she ran out in complete panic. The surrounding area was entirely deserted, but she fled as if she had seen a ghost. The sight sent an inexplicable chill over everyone’s skin.
Song Yuhang frowned. “What was she running from?”
“Could she have been in a rush to get to school?”
“A veteran teacher would be used to students getting into fights. Would she really get this worked up over it?”
“Stop—zoom in.” Song Yuhang took note of her frequent backward glances.
Who was chasing her?
Or rather, what was she afraid of?
The footage was utterly baffling. Zhang Jinhai frowned as well. “Anyway, let’s leave it at this for now. Suspend the investigation into Sun Xiangming for now. While investigating the victim’s close relatives is a necessary protocol, we can’t go in with preconceived notions that he’s the killer. Investigating a case still requires evidence.”
The officers nodded in agreement.
“I suggest our next focus of investigation be placed on this student named ‘Zhou Mo’ as well as Ge Jun. The Technical Investigation Division needs to hurry up and recover those chat logs as quickly as possible.”
“Yes, Captain Zhang!” Zheng Chengrui said, raising his chubby hand to deliver a salute.
The pen in Song Yuhang’s hand spun one last circle before stopping at her fingertips. She had been sitting somewhat loosely, resting her chin on her hand, but now she sat up straight, her eyes fixed on the monitor.
“I’ve reviewed the surveillance as well. She left the gates of No. 1 High School around ten-thirty. Logically, she should’ve headed home at that hour, but instead, she walked in the exact opposite direction.”
It was a narrow alleyway with poor municipal infrastructure; the cameras cut out after about five hundred meters.
Song Yuhang tapped her pen twice on the table. “If we make a bold assumption—that she wasn’t dumped in Lianchi Park but went there on her own accord—then why would she choose to go to Lianchi Park at that specific time?”
Zhang Jinhai took a sip of his tea and gestured for someone to refill it. “We can’t rule out the possibility that the deceased, Ding Xue, shared some illicit relationship with Ge Jun. We definitely need to look into this thoroughly.”
Since the general direction of the investigation was sound, she didn’t press the matter further. Casting a casual glance across the room, she noticed an empty seat in the Technical Investigation Division. “Where is Forensic Examiner Lin?”
Fang Xin quickly answered, “She’s in the pathological dissection room, tinkering with the equipment.”
The author has something to say:
When I first designed the characters, Captain Song’s height was 175 cm, and Forensic Examiner Lin’s height was 172 cm. I love long-legged older sisters.
Thank you for reading.
LP: I’m sorry for the inconsistent updates lately. My nose allergy has been flaring up more than usual for the past weeks. If I didn’t update tomorrow or the following days, just know that my allergy is acting up.
Footnotes
- In China, 'red bills' refer to 100-yuan banknotes, which are red in color. These 100-RMB notes represent the highest paper currency denomination.
- The Chinese idiom 'jìngjiǔ bù chī chī fájiǔ' literally means refusing to drink a complimentary toast only to be forced to drink a forfeit, denoting stubbornness that invites harsher treatment.
- Known as the Four Sentences of Hengqu by Song Dynasty philosopher Zhang Zai, this famous dictum represents the highest moral and intellectual calling of a traditional Chinese scholar.
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