Miss Forensics – Chapter 22
by Little PandaPart One
Mirror
She is a knife that kills and draws blood; you are her best sheath
“Miss, that car is still following you.”
Lin Yan lifted her phone and glanced in the rearview mirror. Today, she truly was in no mood to play games with anyone. Her lips curled slightly as she spat out cold, ruthless words.
“Do them in.”
Once the call disconnected, a black Santana pulled out from a bend in the mountain road, brushing past the taxi she was riding in.
Lin Yan leaned back against her seat, her gaze drifting aimlessly across the empty, wild mountains, though her hand gradually tightened around her phone.
“Miss, we’ve arrived at Taian Mental Hospital.” Lin Yan flicked a few bills out of her wallet, pushed open the car door, and got out, hurrying inside the hospital at a brisk jog.
A doctor was already waiting at the entrance. Guiding her upstairs, they spoke with a face full of apology: “Miss, the patient had a sudden episode. No one could get near her, which is why we called you…”
Lin Yan walked with flying strides, practically running. She suppressed the rising anger in her chest: “How long has this been going on? Why are you only notifying me now? How have you been looking after her? What is the situation now?!”
The mental hospital was not large—just a three-story building. Passing through the long, tedious corridor on the second floor, a special patient resided in the room at the very end.
The iron door, usually locked tight, was wide open. Lin Yan rushed over. Just as her hand gripped the doorframe, a blue-and-white figure lunged toward her, a cold gleam of metal flashing past.
The doctor beside her turned pale with fright: “Miss Lin, watch out!”
Lin Yan dodged to the side. The scissors scraped past her chest. Before her stood a hunched, white-haired elderly woman who was muttering under her breath, turning back around with the scissors in hand.
“Chunan, Chunan…” the elderly woman said as she rubbed a yellowed photograph in her hand, pressing it against her cheek. Then, as if afraid others might see, she carefully tucked it back into her bosom, only to pull it out again a moment later, repeating the cycle over and over.
As she spoke, she dragged her faltering steps forward. A urine bag hung from her waist, leaking with every step as the murky yellow liquid dripped down her trousers.
Hearing this name from someone else’s lips once more, Lin Yan’s eyes instantly reddened, her hand clenching tightly into a fist.
She tilted her head back, as if attempting to swallow down all her bitterness. After taking several deep breaths, she took a gentle step forward, her throat tightening as she called out her name: “Auntie Chen…”
The woman addressed as “Auntie Chen” threw off the quilt and tossed all her pillows onto the floor: “Chunan, Chunan, where are you… Don’t play hide-and-seek with Mama…”
Supporting herself against the bed, she bent down unsteadily. The space under the bed was empty. The elderly woman trembled as she stood back up, her lips quivering and her eyes slightly red as she went to search elsewhere.
“Chunan, don’t hide… Come out quickly.”
The modest room contained only a bed and a wardrobe, without even a desk—everything was laid bare at a single glance.
The elderly woman paced back and forth, finding nothing. The urine had already soaked through half of her trousers, yet she remained utterly oblivious, merely caressing the piece of paper in her bosom with a tender expression.
“Chunan, it’s time to come home for dinner. Mama made your favorite braised fish. We’ll play shuttlecock after we eat.”
“Chunan, the milk’s in your schoolbag. Remember to drink it.”
“Chunan, it’s dark now. It’s time to sleep. Mama will tuck you in.”
She spoke while using her own clothes to cover it tightly, cradling it like a baby and gently rocking it. She had placed the scissors she was holding onto the bed.
Lin Yan took a step closer. The elderly woman seemed to snap awake, her expression turning somewhat inscrutable.
She pulled out the photograph again, staring at her: “Chunan, it’s daytime now. Why aren’t you back yet?”
Lin Yan swallowed hard, wanting to go over and comfort her: “Auntie Chen, Chunan has already…”
The elderly woman tilted her head and looked at her with a stranger’s gaze, or perhaps she was looking through her at the crowd of people behind her.
Yet behind Lin Yan, there was only a snow-white wall.
“Hello, is this the family of Chen Chunan? This is the Jiangcheng City Public Security Bureau. Your daughter’s body has been found.”
“We are very sorry. When we found her, she was already like this. The forensic examiners and the trace evidence department did their best…”
In her eyes, Lin Yan dissolved into bizarre, distorted streaks of light, clawing at the air one moment and shattering into fragments the next.
To call it a body was generous; it was nothing more than a heap of rotting flesh lying on the autopsy table.
Through the vast expanse of time, she saw the past. She saw the pale, cold lights of the funeral home that night; she saw herself weeping hysterically, collapsing to the floor; she saw herself kneeling before the police, clinging to their legs and begging them to solve the case as quickly as possible.
A month passed.
Two months passed.
Three months passed.
…
Day and night, she lingered by the entrance of the city Public Security Bureau.
A year passed.
She went to petition the higher authorities, only to be driven out and collapse on the street.
Two years passed. The letters of complaint she sent to the Provincial Public Security Department, the Commission for Discipline Inspection, and the supervisory departments were like stones sinking into the ocean—never to be heard from again.
Three years passed. She sold her house and ended up on the streets, keeping company with beggars, carrying a stack of missing person flyers in her arms wherever she went.
Clutching a broken bowl, leaning on a wooden staff, and wearing a pair of cloth shoes that exposed her toes, she walked out of Jiangcheng, out of Binhai Province, and traveled across the length and breadth of the country.
Five years passed, and she went mad.
Tears welled in her muddy, clouded eyes. Gripping the scissors, she stood up unsteadily, advancing step by step toward Lin Yan: “It was you… It was you… You killed her…”
“And all of you!” She brandished the scissors wildly in the air. Lin Yan backed away, using her eyes to signal the others to take this opportunity to pin her down.
“Auntie Chen…” Her voice was raspy, and she found it difficult to speak. Only after repeatedly reining in her emotions could she manage a complete sentence.
“Please put the scissors down first. I will take you to find Chunan. Trust me… I… I’ll definitely find her.”
As she approached Auntie Chen, several medical staff members quietly slipped around from behind. Sensing them, Auntie Chen suddenly spun around, the bright, sharp blades of the scissors slashing toward a staff member’s face.
“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”
In the nick of time, Lin Yan lunged, locking her arms around Auntie Chen’s waist from behind to pull her back.
The elderly woman struggled and wailed, her voice piercingly shrill. The sharp tips of the scissors jabbed down repeatedly, stabbing into the back of Lin Yan’s hand.
Lin Yan did not dodge, nor did she want to. She let the sharp scissors puncture several small holes into the back of her hand.
The medical staff rushed forward, pinning her to the floor in a flurry of limbs. After a dose of sedative, the elderly woman finally quieted down.
Lin Yan gently lifted her from the floor and placed her on the bed. Although Lin Yan did not have much physical strength, Auntie Chen was exceptionally light, having already withered away to skin and bones.
The medical staff changed her into clean clothes and fresh sheets. Lin Yan turned and closed the door behind her, and a subordinate handed her a tissue.
“Miss, should we have a doctor look at that?”
She looked down, inspecting the back of her hand which was still oozing blood. She thought to herself: Compared to what Auntie Chen and Chunan went through, what does this little bit of pain even matter?
“She’s usually fine. How could she suddenly…” Before the subordinate could finish, Lin Yan’s icy glare struck him dumb with fear.
That look was uncannily similar to the one the woman inside had when she was wildly stabbing with the scissors.
He had no doubt that if he said another word, she would wring his neck. Unconsciously, he took a step back, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
“Get lost.”
As if a great weight had been lifted, he bowed slightly and quickly departed.
Only the silent wind swept through the corridor.
Lin Yan slid down against the base of the wall, burying her head in her arms. Her voice carried a trace of a tremble that was barely discernible: “Today… is Chunan’s birthday.”
The entire room was dead silent, everyone too terrified to utter a single sound.
Song Yuhang stood at the very front of the line, bearing the brunt of Bureau Chief Feng’s flying spit.
“You’re all useless! Useless! An entire criminal investigation detachment, fooled and run around in circles by a single person! Fine, you failed to catch them, but you don’t even know if they’re male or female! Taxpayers’ money is wasted on feeding a bunch of good-for-nothings like you!”
Feng Jianguo grew angrier the more he spoke, slamming his hand on the desk with a deafening thud: “During regular training, every single one of you acts all high and mighty, boasting that you’re the absolute best under heaven and have no match! If you’d used even a fraction of that bullshit-talking ability of yours, we wouldn’t have suffered such a pathetic defeat!”
The two officers injured by the black-clad figure were still hospitalized—one with a liver contusion, the other with a fractured jaw.
Song Yuhang’s lips twitched, but she said nothing, merely lowering her head slightly. As the deputy captain of the Criminal Investigation Detachment and the overall commander of the operation, she could not escape the blame.
“Bureau Chief Feng, please don’t be angry. Don’t be angry, mind your health. The pressing matter at hand is still solving the case.” Zhang Jinhai tried to support him to sit down, but his hand was brushed away. Although Feng Jianguo rejected his gesture on the surface, he could not take it too far; he accepted the teacup from Zhang Jinhai’s hand, taking a sip to soothe his anger.
“How are the fingerprint comparisons coming along? Has the toxicology analysis come back yet?”
Fang Xin stepped forward from the line, trembling: “Ah… they… they’ve been matched… The only fingerprints on the syringe indeed belong to Li Shiping, and no fingerprints, footprints, or bloodstains from a third party were found at the scene.”
Another assistant forensic doctor stepped forward and said, “The preliminary assessment indicates that the deceased, Sun Xiangming, died of cyanide poisoning. The time of death was around ten in the morning. Since the air conditioning was running in the apartment, the actual time of death might have been slightly earlier. Meanwhile, residual arsenic trioxide—commonly known as arsenic, a highly toxic substance—was detected in the oral cavity of the other deceased, Li Shiping.”
“There were signs of a struggle at the scene. The deceased Sun Xiangming had extensive abrasions on his left wrist and the lower part of his upper arm, which have been confirmed to match the compression marks on the side of the doorway. His skin tissue was also detected in the wood splinters.”
“The deceased Li Shiping had four faint strangulation marks on the left side of her neck and one on the right side. Both sets of marks match Sun Xiangming’s fingerprints. Clothing fibers were also extracted from under Li Shiping’s fingernails, which have been identified as matching the pajamas Sun Xiangming was wearing.”
“Therefore, we believe that the deceased Sun Xiangming and Li Shiping engaged in a violent struggle. Li Shiping was at a disadvantage during the fight, but in the nick of time, she managed to plunge the syringe containing the cyanide solution into his neck, delivering a fatal blow.”
“As for Li Shiping, aside from the strangulation marks left by Sun Xiangming, she bore no other external physical injuries. The preliminary conclusion is… suicide.”
Feng Jianguo rubbed his temples, feeling utterly overwhelmed: “Then how do you explain the black-clad figure who appeared at the scene?”
Song Yuhang’s lips parted, her voice raspy: “The scene was cleaned incredibly thoroughly; even the doorknobs were wiped down. If we hadn’t arrived in time, this would’ve looked entirely like a premeditated revenge murder followed by a suicide to escape punishment! This person possesses extensive counter-reconnaissance awareness. They’re an experienced hand, or… They’re actually a member of the police force!”
She left the second half of her sentence unsaid. Bureau Chief Feng waved his hand, signaling everyone to disperse.
Song Yuhang started to walk out with the others. Feng Jianguo took another sip of his tea and called her name.
“Song Yuhang, stay behind.”
The Technical Investigation Office.
Fang Xin stood leaning against a desk, holding a cartoon porcelain mug, still thinking about Ding Xue’s case: “Was the cause of death really delayed drowning?”
Duan Cheng lay sprawled back in his chair, holding a book with a civil service exam study guide cover, but inside was a gaudy swimsuit magazine.
“How could it be fake? After all, Forensic Examiner Lin performed the autopsy. She’s a renowned authority in Binhai—no, in the entire country.”
Fang Xin took a sip of her milk tea, her eyes carrying a hint of melancholy: “That’s true. It’s just such a pity. To think that in the final hours of her life, when she was in so much pain, she was still thinking about the place where she used to meet Li Shiping. What an overwhelming obsession that must’ve been.”
Perhaps police officers always participated in other people’s lives as mere bystanders, tasting the bitterness and sweetness from the smallest details. Then, at a certain moment, the human instinct for empathy would allow them to feel a fraction of the victim’s pain. Even if it was just a tiny sliver, it was enough to disturb their young, restless hearts.
After she said those words, none of them spoke. Zheng Chengrui also put down the chicken drumstick he was gnawing on, looking out the window as rainwater dripped down the banana leaves and tapped against the window sill.
“Actually, I think,” he let out a loud burp, “this case taught us a lesson. Crimes of passion aren’t limited to relationships between men and women. There can be tragic, epic love between members of the same sex as well.”
Duan Cheng burst out laughing when he heard this, poking Lao Zheng’s round belly: “Hey, Lao Zheng, what’s wrong with you today? Turned into a hopeless romantic?”
The gloomy atmosphere shattered. Zheng Chengrui brushed his hand away: “Shoo, shoo, shoo! What’s with this ‘Lao Zheng’ stuff? Call me Zheng-ge!”
In the midst of their fooling around, Duan Cheng’s book fell to the floor. Fang Xin picked it up and brandished the gaudy magazine: “Hey, with habits like yours, you actually want to pass the civil service exam? Let me see what this is… Ooh, Sola Aoi, Akiho Yoshizawa…”
Before she could finish her sentence, Duan Cheng’s face flushed red, and he snatched it back, cradling it in his arms like a precious treasure while muttering under his breath: “I don’t want to pass the exam either. I just want to be a photographer in our small county town back home, scraping by and waiting to die.”
“What about you? If you weren’t a cop, what would you want to do?”
Fang Xin pondered for a moment and shook her head: “I’d probably be married by now. What about Lao Zheng?”
Zheng Chengrui looked up from his computer, pushing up his glasses: “A programmer, I guess. Writing code—the kind where you can import photos of all the beautiful women on the internet with a single click…”
Duan Cheng lunged forward in pure excitement: “Zheng-ge, you’re my real brother!”
“…”
“Tell me, then. Why do you suspect Lin Yan?” Now that there were only the two of them left, Bureau Chief Feng spoke in a much gentler tone, gesturing for her to sit down.
Song Yuhang sat down on the sofa, staring at the disposable paper cup in front of her: “I…”
“Director Zhao is your mentor, and he was also a benefactor who recognized my potential. Back in the day, he sat exactly where I am sitting now. He is a department director who came out of our Jiangcheng Bureau. Today, you didn’t just embarrass yourself; you disgraced the entire criminal investigation detachment, the entire municipal bureau, and you disgraced that venerable old man!”
This phrasing made her feel even more ashamed than being called a good-for-nothing. Song Yuhang rubbed her face, brushing the stray hairs back from her forehead, and took several deep breaths to steady her breathing.
“It’s my fault.”
“When I was a beat cop under Director Zhao, he’d emphasize at every single meeting that we must never make assumptions when solving cases. Nothing could be left ambiguous; we must always let the facts speak, rely on reason, and present hard evidence. We’re public security officers, not bandits!”
“You bear half the responsibility for Sun Xiangming’s death. If not for that cycle of arresting him and letting him go, we might not have beaten the grass and alerted the snake1. Now Li Shiping is dead too. Marvelous—just when we thought the case was solved, another black-clad figure popped out of nowhere.”
Bureau Chief Feng looked at her, deeply frustrated by her failure to meet expectations, rapping his bent index finger sharply against the desk: “Song Yuhang, oh, Song Yuhang! Now you’re making assumptions again, believing that Lin Yan is that black-clad figure. Where’s your reasoning? Where’s your evidence? Do you know who Lin Yan’s father is? Do you know who she is?”
“Do you believe that if you arrested Lin Yan this second, the municipal committee would call my desk the next? You can’t mix personal feelings into an investigation. You’re a veteran detective; how are you still making such elementary mistakes?”
Confronted by his earnest, well-meaning lecture, Song Yuhang merely hung her head. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she seemed to be holding back her emotions, but in the end, she said nothing at all.
She couldn’t bring herself to say it.
In the past, she had never believed in any miraculous intuition or speculative reasoning. She only trusted the physical evidence she gathered and logically sound hypotheses.
But Lin Yan was an exception.
She didn’t know where this intuition came from either, but she simply had a faint sense of familiarity—that Lin Yan was inextricably linked to that black-clad figure.
Moreover, that black-clad figure was actually two people.
At that moment, she had not yet realized one thing: so-called intuition must be built upon a certain level of understanding of the other person. Her subconscious knowledge that Lin Yan would act in such a way was actually a reflection of her own inner self.
Had she been in Lin Yan’s position, she might not have acted any differently.
Genius and madness are not necessarily a step apart, but only two kindred souls possess that tiny sliver of a possibility to read each other’s minds.
It was like looking into a mirror. The environment inside and outside the glass might change, but when all was said and done, they were the exact same person.
As she finally stood up to leave, Bureau Chief Feng stopped her again: “Didn’t you ask me before why I transferred Lin Yan to our municipal bureau?”
Song Yuhang turned back with her hand on the doorknob. Her eyes were completely bloodshot, and she looked thoroughly exhausted after going several days without sleep.
She rasped, “Why?”
“A person like Lin Yan will either be a friend or an enemy. She is a knife that kills and draws blood; you are her best sheath.”
“Miss, what would you like to drink?” Her gaze drifted aimlessly across the various colorful drinks displayed on the menu board.
Seeing her hesitation, the bartender eagerly offered a recommendation: “Long Island iced tea is on special today! It’s a careful blend of vodka, white rum, and tequila, making it highly suitable for ladies!”
Song Yuhang stared blankly as his mouth opened and closed, unable to make out what he was saying.
Seeing her lack of response, the bartender pointed to another drink: “Would you like to try our signature Mojito? It’s white rum combined with lime, mint, and crushed ice—extremely refreshing—”
She didn’t hear a thing clearly, except for a single word—MOJITO.
For some reason, she recalled that night at Landi Bar, when Lin Yan had pressed a glass cup into her hand, tossing her hair with effortless elegance.
She had asked casually, “What kind of drink is this?”
The other woman had smiled radiantly, answering, “A Mojito.”
The bartender was still babbling on: “…particularly suited for free spirits…”
Song Yuhang pulled some money from her wallet and handed it over: “Just this one.”
The wind chimes by the door jingled as a man folded his umbrella and pushed inside. He walked straight up to the bar and ordered a depth charge.
The bartender watched as he carried his drink over to the table where the somewhat dazed lady was sitting.
The man glanced behind him. Seeing only a young bartender peeking over with curiosity, he propped his umbrella against the table and sat down opposite Song Yuhang.
“How did you—” Song Yuhang lifted her eyes. The man had already taken off his baseball cap, revealing a snowy white bandage wrapped around his head, its edges faintly stained with blood.
Her grip tightened around her glass in an instant.
The man put his cap back on: “They were professional killers. I barely escaped with my life.”
Song Yuhang gritted her teeth: “I really underestimated her.”
The man took a sip from his glass, his brim pressed extremely low to obscure his face: “She’s highly alert, and she’s surrounded by elite experts. I’ve been exposed, so it’s no longer safe for me to tail her.”
Song Yuhang could only taste the bitterness amidst the crisp aroma of her drink. She was unwilling to let this go, yet for the moment, there was nothing she could do to her.
“Thank you for your hard work. Go get some rest.”
He was an informant she had cooperated with for many years. Song Yuhang fished a stack of bills out of her pocket and passed them over.
The man took the money and tucked it into his bag. He could not stay for too long and prepared to leave.
As he stood up, Song Yuhang saw the corners of his lips curl slightly: “You’ve never seemed to drink during work hours before.”
Song Yuhang was taken aback, swirling the remaining ice in her glass with a clinking sound.
“I’m on leave.”
The man said no more, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and striding out.
After he left, Song Yuhang unfurled her palm. A thin scrap of fabric lay there, crumpled from being tightly squeezed.
This was the piece of fabric she had torn from the black-clad figure’s clothes. She had not submitted it to the police as evidence, choosing instead to keep it hidden close to her person.
Now, she raised her right hand to her nose and inhaled deeply.
Not even the warmth of the alcohol could melt the ice in her eyes.
Lin Yan… oh, Lin Yan.
Just how many more surprises do you have in store for me?
The author has something to say:
I do not like to simply define a person as a “good person” or a “bad person.” There are standards for whether a story is good or bad, but these standards also vary from person to person—one man’s poison is another’s honey. Human nature is even more complex, impossible to sum up in just a few words, and the world is not simply black and white. It might make reading this story a bit easier if you keep this perspective in mind.
Additionally, as I mentioned before, the parts regarding criminal investigation and forensics have been dramatized and exaggerated. I know that forensic doctors do not wear perfume or paint their nails; I looked all of this up when gathering reference materials and even consulted industry professionals. However, I ultimately decided to include these traits anyway. First, this is a novel, not a documentary. Second, it adds more possibilities to the characters. All settings and plot details are meant to construct more dimensional characters.
I do not want to write a rigid, by-the-book forensic examiner, but rather an unconventional professional woman who steps outside the boundaries of the rules—someone who is serious in her professional field, yet retains a normal woman’s love for beauty in her private life. She is a “person” first, and a forensic doctor second.
If you want to see a straight-laced, old-fashioned stickler, please look at our Captain Song 【doge face to save my life】
Also, some little angels have asked if I can post extra updates?
Me: Do you know what it feels like to write and post on the fly without a backlog? Have you ever paid off a loan? The difference is that while others pay once a month, I have to repay mine every single day. smile.jpg
BOOMSHAKALAKA
Damn! I bet LY is out to kill those unless police in that location. Ok not out to kill, but to seek justice her own way bc they’re useless. Also, to find the case for her lover.
The vibe I’ve been getting from her is like Dexter
Damn! I bet LY is out to kill those unless police in that location. Ok not out to kill, but to seek justice her own way bc they’re useless. Also, to find the case for her lover.
“this one” okayy she is committed committed
“this one” okayy she is committed committed