Miss Forensics – Chapter 3

Volume One: First Scroll

Past Dust

Is it heroes thinking alike, or destined adversaries?

Lin Yan changed clothes and appeared in an upscale club in the city center. Just as night fell, there weren’t many people yet, the lighting was dim, and in the restaurant, a young man wearing a tailcoat was playing violin, the melody flowing and pleasant.

            

She followed the attendant around several turns, her high heels stepping silently on the soft carpet.

Until stopping before a door, the attendant bowed: “Miss Lin, please.”

Lin Yan pushed open the door. The man was swinging a club hitting balls, the ball didn’t go in the hole. Hearing movement, he turned to see it was her, his face naturally showing a trace of a smile.

            

Neither overly enthusiastic nor distant.

“You’ve come.”

He wiped his sweat with a towel, gesturing for her to sit.

            

The attendant left quietly after bringing her in. This was a small indoor golf course. Lin Yan didn’t stand on ceremony – there were already tea snacks on the table, as if he knew she would come.

Her fingertips picked up a preserved fruit and put it in her mouth, her brows slightly furrowing – too sweet.

She wiped her hands with a tissue, making no further movements.

            

The man was over forty, of medium build, with a fair complexion, wearing an unremarkable ordinary T-shirt. After finishing a round of golf, he was slightly out of breath as he sat down across from her.

“How was it, did court go smoothly today?”

Lin Yan had always been one who sat without proper posture and stood without proper bearing, lounging in the chair, her two fair and slender legs lightly crossed together, thin red high heel straps hanging on snow-white ankles.

            

She dressed more sensually than during the day, wearing a well-tailored black sleeveless dress with a deep V-neck, exposing her collarbones and fuller areas.

This color and style was overly alluring, yet when she wore it there was no trace of worldliness [風塵氣 | fēng chén qì | meaning: air of one who’s seen much of life], just the right amount of bewitching grace.

Her earlobes adorned with two large earrings, wavy hair pinned up, leaving some loose strands by her cheeks and forehead. Though fair-skinned, she particularly favored dark lipstick, forcefully creating a cold beauty.

            

Such a woman was a rare specimen, to men she was prey.

Lin Yan smiled: “Mm, smoothly.”

As if echoing her words, the phone on the table lit up, a bank transfer notification popped up on screen, the amount huge, signed by Xinye Company.

            

The man raised his wine glass: “Congratulations to Miss Lin on another gold rush [鬥金 | dòu jīn | meaning: making money].”

“No, no, I should thank you for giving me this opportunity.”

The wine glasses clinked softly together, the two exchanged knowing smiles.

            

When putting down her wine glass, Lin Yan’s smile had already faded: “Then according to our agreement…”

“Don’t worry, I’ve already had someone search the police intranet for the materials you asked me to find…”

Lin Yan’s pupils contracted slightly: “How is it?”

            

The man shook his head, taking another sip of champagne: “Difficult. The case is from many years ago, there are only fragments on the intranet. I downloaded them, but I don’t think they’ll be much help to you.”

The woman across from him, her lips trembled briefly before quickly regaining composure: “The police bureau should keep paper files for major cases like this, right?”

The man nodded frankly: “They do, but strangely enough, last month when we were moving the archives room, a batch of old case files all went up in flames, not even ashes remained.”

            

An archives room fire wasn’t a small matter. Those above investigated and charged several people with dereliction of duty [渎職罪 | dú zhí zuì | crime of neglecting official duties], but these were all closed cases from years past, no one investigated deeply, and it was left at that.

“There’s one more place that would have them.”

“The Procuratorate [檢察院 | jiǎn chá yuàn | an institution that investigates and prosecutes crimes].”

            

As per convention, being the supervisory department of public security organs, all evidence would be submitted to the Procuratorate before being transferred to court, so there should be copies.

But it had always been the Procuratorate requesting case files from the police bureau, never heard of public security organs requesting files from the Procuratorate – wouldn’t that indirectly amount to admitting dereliction of duty?

Moreover, this was something that couldn’t see the light, it couldn’t go through normal procedures.

            

Lin Yan naturally understood the stakes involved. Though she didn’t speak, she gripped the thin stem of the wine glass tightly, her finger bones white as jade, using such force as if it could break at any moment.

The man shook his head: “No, Jiangcheng City Police Bureau, as the location where the case occurred, they must have copies. If they don’t have any either…”

He raised his head, his eyes filling with an unclear darkness: “Lin Yan, you cannot investigate this case any further.”

            

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Binhai Province was located on the southwestern coastal frontier, prone to typhoons and storms in early summer.

Fierce winds shook the tree branches, rain swept in together with the curtains.

The woman stepped barefoot on the ground.

            

“You cannot investigate this case any further.”

Just chewing on these words, she chewed up a belly full of hatred, raised her hand and violently stabbed a knife into the wall.

A flash of lightning crossed the sky, briefly illuminating the room’s interior. The wall was covered with “X”s of various sizes drawn in red paint pen, their long tails dragging down, like dried blood stains.

            

Above the blood stains, yellowed photographs and newspapers were pinned with thumbtacks, the room wasn’t large, but these grandly covered most of the wall.

The photos of what appeared to be human skeletons and chunks of flesh hadn’t faded despite time’s weathering and moldy paper, the bloody stench still detectable across time and space.

A girl was clustered in the middle, quietly smiling at her, her originally delicate features appearing somewhat eerie against such a background.

            

Another lightning bolt split the horizon, illuminating the woman’s somewhat sinister countenance.

Her throat moved slightly, throwing back her head to drain the liquid in the wine glass.

Her arm dropped down, the remaining liquid in the glass fell drop by drop onto the floor, like blood stains splashing beside her feet.

            

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The news happened to be broadcasting the segment where Lin Yan was surrounded by reporters. Song Yuhang [宋餘杭 | sòng yú háng] was holding a teacup, listening intently, when unexpectedly the office door was pushed open.

She hurriedly put down the teacup and stood up: “Greetings, Director Zhao.”

Almost instinctively raising her hand in salute, the woman wore a spring-autumn uniform [春秋常服 | chūn qiū cháng fú | standard police uniform], with a light blue regulation shirt inside, tie tied meticulously, other hand standing straight along trouser seam, peaked cap quietly placed on the table’s left side according to regulations.

            

Seeing her so formal, Director Zhao smiled: “There aren’t so many rules in my place, sit.”

“Alright.”

Song Yuhang sat down again, still sitting formally and properly, spine perfectly straight.

            

“How have you been lately?”

“Not bad, just high blood pressure, an old ailment, but I’ve been listening to your shimu [師母 | shī mǔ | meaning: teacher’s wife] and taking medicine daily to control it, it’s nothing serious.”

Director Zhao was in his early fifties, slightly plump, with some white hair at his temples, but his body was still robust and his spirit strong.

            

Back when she was still studying at the Police University, he, as a senior superintendent of Binhai Province Public Security Bureau’s Criminal Investigation Unit, would often give lectures, making him half a teacher to Song Yuhang. When she wanted to return to work at Jiangcheng City Police Bureau after graduation, it was he who mediated and arranged matters.

She kept all this gratitude in her heart, taking advantage of coming to the provincial bureau for a meeting to find time to visit her former mentor.

Unexpectedly, both were tied up with trivial matters, and their only meeting time was in the office.

            

But this was enough, Zhao Junfeng [趙俊峰 | zhào jùn fēng] was one of the few people who treated her exceptionally well.

“You still need to take care of your health, take medicine on time, don’t always make my shimu remind you… these are some health products for you.”

She wasn’t originally talkative, more words remained stuck in her heart, unspeakable.

            

Seeing the colorful gift boxes placed by her feet, there was that “Golden Partner” often advertised on TV, some dairy products, bird’s nest [燕窩 | yàn wō | expensive Chinese delicacy] and such.

He seemed somewhat between laughter and tears: “Ah, you child, coming is enough, why buy all these things, if your shimu sees this she’ll scold you again, besides, how does it look carrying these in and out of the police station!”

Though he said this, one could see he was genuinely quite happy.

            

Song Yuhang curved her lips slightly, saying nothing more.

Zhao Junfeng handled official documents while making casual conversation, he had planned to have a few drinks with this disciple after work today, but unexpectedly an internal line call came in, and the old director’s brows furrowed slightly.

“What’s wrong?”

            

“Reporter interview.”

Zhao Junfeng had done criminal investigation work his whole life, taking it step by step, countless times between life and death, licking blood from knife edges [刀口舔血 | dāo kǒu tiǎn xuè | meaning: dangerous work], yet what he feared most wasn’t those extremely vicious criminals, but intellectuals skilled at verbal and written attacks [口誅筆伐 | kǒu zhū bǐ fá | meaning: to criticize through speaking and writing].

Zhao Junfeng hung up the phone, suddenly somewhat helpless: “As you know, that 4.18 case has been reopened, the Procuratorate sends people every other day to supervise, the court is urging us to supplement new evidence, the internet is in an uproar, some even say we extracted confessions through torture! The unit brothers haven’t slept for days, but suspects aren’t so easy to catch.”

            

Binhai Province was a major population province, over one-third were migrant workers, good and bad mixed together, screening would take considerable effort.

Song Yuhang considered: “I roughly understand that case. I suggest the investigation direction should focus on people who had close contact with the deceased. After all, not many knew about the deceased’s heart condition, especially those who had contact with the deceased and entered the KTV that night of the incident – focus on screening them.”

“The deceased worked at the KTV, interpersonal relationships are complicated.” He lifted his teacup for a sip, brows furrowed with worry.

            

Because of this matter, the unit brothers had been fighting through several consecutive nights. Though as a leader he didn’t need to personally go door-to-door investigating, the burden on his shoulders wasn’t light, he hadn’t had a peaceful sleep for several days.

Song Yuhang pondered briefly, her thumb unconsciously lightly rubbing her index finger when thinking about problems.

Though that face still showed no excessive emotional fluctuation.

            

“Simultaneously investigate Jin Weixin, once the medicine source is clear, we won’t be far from the truth.”

“Have you seen the autopsy report?” Zhao Junfeng didn’t avoid the topic, the document was on the table.

“Yes, since the killer could poison the deceased without any guard being raised, it shows they had an intimate relationship. The autopsy report says the deceased was stabbed in the chest with a fruit knife shortly after death, causing massive bleeding. Focus on screening surveillance during this time period, see who entered and exited the private room.”

            

Zhao Junfeng held his teacup, steam rising to fog his reading glasses, lightly rubbing the cup’s wall, his expression showing some deep reservation [諱莫如深 | huì mò rú shēn | meaning: very mysterious or secretive].

“Why stab again after the deceased was already dead?”

“To confuse the police’s line of sight, or… to frame someone else.”

            

She lightly pressed her lips: “Or perhaps simply afraid the deceased wasn’t dead and delivered an extra stab.”

Scientific criminal psychological profiling is built on crime analysis, victim information, and logical evidence, not like fortune telling and face reading in mystical clouds and mists.

Therefore, without investigating the scene or seeing the corpse personally, she could only offer suggestions.

            

“The killer had intimate contact with both the deceased and Jin Weixin, and might even have had grievances with one of them.”

“Possibly appeared in the KTV that night.”

“Cannot rule out the possibility of a female perpetrator.”

            

Too little information, these were the only conclusions.

After she finished speaking, Zhao Junfeng smiled slightly, as if having a card up his sleeve, or as if within expectations.

It was now dusk, sunset light projected through the venetian blinds, casting spots of light on his desk.

            

Wind lifted a corner of the autopsy report, revealing the chief forensic examiner’s name: Lin Yan.

Song Yuhang didn’t understand the meaning of his smile at that time, only later learning that someone had mentioned these same points to him several days ago.

Was it heroes thinking alike, or destined adversaries?

            

At that time, Song Yuhang had passed the age of thirty, thinking she had completed one-third of life, and due to her profession and specialized studies, understood worldly affairs and human hearts, yet didn’t know fate was a chaotic web of countless threads.

She and Lin Yan were just two insignificant stars in this era’s tide.

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“Miss, the meal is ready.” The butler gently knocked on the study door.

            

Lin Yan put the folded paper crane into a transparent glass bottle, sealed it with the lid, and locked it in the cabinet.

“Bring it up.”

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“Come, Xiaosong, you rarely visit, eat more.”

            

In the evening, shimu prepared a family feast, making a table full of hot dishes, fish, shrimp, crab, and meat, everything imaginable.

Seeing the rice bowl already piled into a small mountain, Song Yuhang had no choice but to keep stuffing food in her mouth while reaching out to stop more.

“Enough, shimu, there’s still food in my bowl, please eat too.”

            

“Ah, alright, you all sit, I still have soup simmering in the pot.”

Saying this, she ran back to the kitchen to fetch the soup.

Zhao Junfeng opened a bottle of Wuliangye [五糧液 | wǔ liáng yè | famous Chinese liquor], filled his own glass, and poured just a small amount for her.

            

The two plastic wine cups clinked together, Song Yuhang took a sip, her face turning completely red.

Zhao Junfeng laughed heartily: “Still can’t handle alcohol.”

“Cough cough…” She put down her cup, shimu happened to return with the soup, ladling her a small bowl.

            

“How embarrassing.”

“Aiya, why are you pushing her to drink, if Xiaosong can’t drink then don’t drink, don’t listen to him, here, have some soup.”

Song Yuhang quickly stood up to take the bowl: “Thank you, shimu.”

            

“What thanks, child, we don’t get visitors for half a month at a time, having you here makes shimu happy.”

Zhao Junfeng had risen from a patrol officer to today’s Deputy Director of Criminal Investigation at Binhai Province Public Security Bureau, his journey could be said to have experienced bloody storms, but even in his old age he had no children, his only son killed years ago by criminals seeking revenge.

If he had grown up safely, he would now be at the age of starting a family and career.

            

Though the case was solved, the old couple’s hearts were scarred, and they never had more children in all these years.

Thus whenever anyone visited, the Zhao household was always quiet and empty.

Zhao Junfeng refilled his glass: “Let’s not talk about that. I heard you’re seeing someone? Their age, family background, profession? What’s their personality like? Do they hit their wife?”

            

A criminal investigator’s first reaction is to ask such things.

Song Yuhang was between laughter and tears: “Nothing escapes you, but we’re not together yet, just following my mother’s wishes, going on arranged dates.”

Zhao Junfeng understood her, she wouldn’t speak this way if nothing was certain, this time she must have found someone she liked.

            

“Met several times, it’s fine, a few years older than me, not yet forty, single never married, no bad habits like smoking or drinking, local to Jiangcheng, medical doctor.”

Shimu listening on the side also thought these conditions were good, but had some doubts: “Still first marriage at that age, hope there’s no unspeakable secret, better keep an eye out, observe carefully.”

Song Yuhang understood: “Yes, you’re right, we’ve just met a few times for meals, staying as friends, haven’t thought deeply about anything else yet.”

            

“Right, that’s the way, can’t rush marriage matters, Xiaosong has such good conditions, won’t worry about finding a good match.”

Zhao Junfeng glared at her anxiously: “What do you know, criminal investigators are already hard to find partners, women in this profession are even rarer! If you don’t hurry and marry someone suitable while you’re young, the older you get, not only are you choosing them, they’re choosing you too!”

These words were exactly the same as what her mother said.

            

Song Yuhang held her forehead: “Director Zhao…”

Shimu started arguing with him about this: “Then you should be grateful I chose you, must have accumulated eight lifetimes of good fortune!”

“You old woman, I see your tongue gets sharper with age…”

            

Though Zhao Junfeng complained, the smile in his eyes remained unchanged, everyone in the room burst into laughter.

City lights lit up one after another, traffic streams flowed on the elevated bridges, the room filled with the fragrance of food, for countless people, this was just an ordinary weekend.

For Song Yuhang, even many years later, she still remembered her master’s face flushed with alcohol, shimu’s playful scolding expression, and this table full of dishes she loved.

            

Those were good times that could never return.

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LP: Re-translated on February 18, 2025

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