Miss Forensics – Chapter 33
by Little PandaPart One
Injured
The faint floral scent at her neck was entirely overwhelmed by the smell of blood.
“Electrician, 20 yuan an hour.”
“Experienced domestic helper, only 80 yuan a day.”
“Construction workers needed, under forty, in good health, hardworking, men only.”
…
The so-called talent market was really just a few sunshades thrown together, with job seekers and employers milling about. Many held up signs scrawled with crooked chalk listing their age and skills, while bosses and brokers barked through megaphones, haggling over people like produce at a wet market.
The moment Song Yuhang stepped in, several brokers surrounded her. “Miss, looking to hire or looking for work?”
She’d made a point of buying a pack of cigarettes from a convenience store on the way over. She pulled them out and handed one to each of the men.
“Hiring. My boss is renovating his home and wants fine solid-wood furniture — ideally handcrafted by a skilled artisan.”
The brokers caught sight of the Chunghwa1 cigarettes. A big spender like this must have a wealthy boss behind her. Their faces split into eager grins.
“No problem, no problem! We’ve got plenty of carpenters on our books, guaranteed to satisfy!”
Song Yuhang cupped the flame for her own cigarette and lit up, eyeing them sidelong. “Brokers, huh? Expensive and not worth it. I’ll find someone myself.”
She tried to push past them, but the short, stocky man in the lead blocked her path, eyes crinkling into a smile as he spoke in a thick northern dialect.
“Don’t be like that! We may be brokers, but we’ve got professional ethics. Since you have a need, we’ll find you the best — isn’t that right? Don’t let the crowd fool you; the good carpenters are few, and they’re all in my little book right here.”
He patted the thick green-covered notebook in his hand. “I’ve been brokering in this area for over twenty years. I know who’s good and who’s not better than King Yama2 himself. You’re welcome to look on your own, but it’ll cost you time — wouldn’t want to delay your boss’s business.”
Song Yuhang considered this, then stopped, looking slightly wary. “And your cut…?”
The stocky man held up his fingers. “Not much, not much. If we close the deal, we only take a 3% broker’s fee. No deal, no charge.”
Song Yuhang smiled and handed over another cigarette. “That’s a fair price. All right, let’s do it.”
The man pulled out his treasure and showed it to her, wetting his fingertip to flip through the pages one by one, narrating each entry in detail. “Zhang San, forty-six, twenty years of carpentry…”
Song Yuhang shook her head. “Too old. I need someone younger — someone whose designs feel fresh.”
“Sure, how about this one.” The man turned a page and pointed at a name. “Li Si, early twenties, young and strong, can do other work too…”
Song Yuhang shook her head again. “Too young, no experience.”
The man’s mouth twitched. Demanding much? Picking a carpenter or a beauty contest?
“What about this one, then — Xu Bing, thirty-five. Started apprenticing at fifteen, famous all across this part of the provincial capital. Recently a rich family hired him to custom-build their furniture too…”
Song Yuhang frowned slightly. “If he’s that well-known, he must be expensive. Let’s keep looking.”
It wasn’t until the man had flipped through several more pages and worn his tongue ragged that Song Yuhang finally, reluctantly, agreed to Xu Bing.
The stocky man wiped the nervous sweat from his brow. His face was obsequious, but he was cursing her to the seventh hell in his mind.
Won’t pay much, but wants the best? Dream on!
After some haggling, Song Yuhang walked away with Xu Bing’s — He Miao’s uncle’s — other phone number, one completely different from what he’d given the police.
Stepping out of the talent market, she texted the number to Zheng Chengrui: Locate this number.
His reply came quickly: On it, Captain Song. Tracking now.
Lin Yan followed Xu Bing for two blocks. She’d changed outfits — a baseball cap now on her head, a lightweight sun-protective jacket draped over her shoulders, sunglasses perched on her face, and a parasol in hand. She looked no different from any other tourist.
Up ahead, Xu Bing walked into the vegetable market. Lin Yan collapsed her parasol and followed. She’d been keeping in constant contact with Song Yuhang.
“He’s gone into the vegetable market. Probably buying groceries to cook at home. I’ll follow him to his place and have a look.”
“Good.” Song Yuhang paused, then added, “Be careful. If something feels off, pull back.”
Lin Yan snorted. “A guy like Xu Bing? Ten of him wouldn’t be a problem.”
Just then, Zheng Chengrui’s message came through, and she temporarily switched off her comm with Lin Yan.
“Captain Song, this number isn’t registered to a real name. Can’t trace the owner.”
Song Yuhang’s heart skipped. “Keep tracking. Where is the target now?”
Zheng Chengrui’s fingers flew across his keyboard. “Inside the vegetable market at the intersection of Haixi Road and Jiefang Road in the provincial capital.”
Song Yuhang pulled out her phone and compared the coordinates Lin Yan had sent. She let out a quiet breath of relief.
“Good. Also track Forensic Examiner Lin’s phone. I’m heading over now.”
“Boss, is this fish fresh?” Xu Bing stopped at his regular stall to buy fish, pointing at a live river fish thrashing in the tank.
“Fresh! All caught this morning. Our shop’s rule — we never sell overnight fish.”
“Great, I’ll take one.”
“Coming right up.”
The owner scooped a lively fish from the tank and dumped it on the cutting board to be killed and cleaned on the spot.
While Xu Bing waited for his fish to be processed, Lin Yan stood nearby with a shopping basket she’d somehow acquired, haggling earnestly with a vendor.
“What?” She raised her voice slightly. “Broccoli is 10 yuan a catty3? Why don’t you just rob people?”
“Oh come on, miss, these are organic vegetables. All-natural fertilizer, pure and clean, no pollution. Look — just picked this morning, you can still see the dew!”
The owner handed the cleaned fish to Xu Bing, and while making change, muttered under his breath: “You’re being tailed.”
Xu Bing started to turn around. The owner gripped his hand over the change, stopping him. “Don’t look back. That one’s a pro. Walk straight down this road. Old Eight will meet you at the alley exit.”
Xu Bing took the money, smiling on the surface. “Thanks, boss. Another 50 cents off, huh?”
But his teeth were clenched beneath his breath: “You said if I brought the person here, it’d have nothing to do with me! How’d she end up pregnant? Now the cops4 are knocking on my door — what the hell am I supposed to do?”
“Oh, we go way back, you’re here three times a day — let me throw in some fish swim bladders.” The scar-faced owner grabbed a handful from the cutting board and dropped them into the bag, lowering his voice.
“Don’t worry. Since they’ve come, the boss will definitely teach them a lesson. Just a few small fry. Walk bold. The cops won’t bother you again.”
Xu Bing’s heart settled back into his chest. He took the bag and turned to leave. “Well then, thank you kindly! Crab season’s coming up in a bit — don’t forget to save me the good ones.”
“Absolutely. Take care now.”
The owner put on a thick, honest smile to see his customer off. But when he spotted Lin Yan strolling past, humming, basket in hand, his gaze darkened. He pressed the micro-mic5 on his collar.
“Old Eight, the fish has taken the bait.”
“Driver, Haixi Road Vegetable Market.”
Song Yuhang hailed a cab and climbed in.
Lin Yan followed Xu Bing out of the vegetable market. She wound through a maze of side streets, memorizing the route back as she went, keeping her distance — about fifty meters behind — to avoid being spotted. Then Xu Bing ducked into a side alley.
She quickened her pace and followed, but he’d vanished. Lin Yan’s instincts flared. She spun around — two burly men had materialized behind her. She kept walking, expression unchanged.
“The target’s gone. I’ve been made.”
Song Yuhang’s heart lurched. “How many? Send me your exact location.”
“Two.” Lin Yan gave a cold laugh. “They really don’t take me seriously.”
The words had barely left her mouth when a shadow fell across her path. Two more young men in surgical masks, wielding baseball bats, blocked her way ahead. The two heavies behind her closed in as well.
Lin Yan was trapped in the middle of the alley, no way forward, no way back.
“Lin Yan?!” Song Yuhang’s voice rose, and the cab driver turned to stare at her in surprise.
Song Yuhang steadied herself. “Driver, please go faster.”
Then she lowered her voice and contacted Zheng Chengrui. “Send me Forensic Examiner Lin’s exact coordinates.”
On the map, two blinking red dots vanished. Zheng Chengrui broke out in a cold sweat. “Report — Xu Bing and Forensic Examiner Lin’s coordinates have gone dark. Last known position: near Alley 351, beside Haixi Road Vegetable Market.”
Lin Yan lay on the ground, clutching her abdomen, beads of sweat rolling down her forehead. She watched the scar-faced man crush her phone under his heel. He turned and strode toward her, baseball bat in hand.
She swallowed hard. Her hand slid discreetly toward the small of her back. The taste of blood on her tongue only made the adrenaline surge higher.
For a Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu fighter, being on the ground was never the end. It was the beginning.
As he stepped into optimal striking range, Lin Yan moved.
The man clearly hadn’t expected her to fight back after being beaten down by four people. That split-second hesitation cost him the initiative. Lin Yan planted one hand on the ground and swept her leg in a wide arc — not only knocking him down but using the momentum to spring back to her feet. Her right leg whipped around in a thunderous high kick aimed straight at his face.
A roundhouse kick generates more power the wider its arc. Her leg carved a near-complete semicircle, a blur of afterimage. A blow like that to the neck would fracture the cervical spine on the spot. The man’s extensive combat experience made him throw up the bat on instinct. Splinters exploded; the baseball bat shattered on impact, and both it and its owner went flying, crashing hard against the pavement.
Scar Face spat out a mouthful of blood-tinged saliva.
Lin Yan spun and whipped out her Sentinel6, hooking her fingers at the three men who stood staring at her. “Come on, all at once. That’s the only way this is fun.”
Her tone was casual banter. The three men exchanged a glance, and the lethal intent in their eyes crystallized. They tightened their grips on their weapons and lunged.
Fists and feet collided. Clubs and sticks crossed. One of them swung his baseball bat straight at the back of her skull — a blow meant to kill.
Lin Yan ducked, eyes flashing cold. Her left hand seized his wrist and yanked down; her right drove the baton hard into his vital abdominal point. “Fuck, who sent you?”
Her Sentinel had been with her for ten years. German-made, constructed entirely from aviation-grade aluminum — lightweight, durable, and built to withstand impact.
The strike left no visible mark on the surface, but the man doubled over, vomiting a spray of bright blood. His knees buckled and he crumpled to the ground, his baseball bat clattering from nerveless fingers.
Lin Yan reached for his mask. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught someone rushing her from behind. A cold smirk tugged at her lip. In a heartbeat, the wind from a weapon cutting through the air lifted the hair from her forehead. Lin Yan bent backward with the flexible grace of an athlete, one hand on the ground, the other seizing the attacker’s arm. She used the leverage to fling him into his companion. The two crashed into a bicycle parked by the wall, sending it clattering to the ground.
She wiped the sweat from her face and stood, her smile turning glacial. “Want to live? Tell me who sent you. Otherwise—”
Before she could finish, the hairs on the back of her neck rose. Her instincts screamed. She threw up the baton to block — but she was half a second too slow.
A gleaming blade skimmed along the inside of the baton and laid open a gash on her shoulder.
Blood soaked down through her clothes. Lin Yan stumbled back, clutching her shoulder, panting hard.
Scar Face twirled the dagger in his hand, rolling his shoulders. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you never to turn your back on your opponent?”
Lin Yan’s breath came ragged, but her eyes blazed. “You lot of useless trash — you think you’re worthy opponents? Pah!”
One of the masked men shot Scar Face a look. “Enough talking. She won’t last long. Let’s finish this.”
Though their individual skills were inferior to Lin Yan’s, the four of them were no slouches — especially their leader, Scar Face, who clearly had professional combat training. Fast, precise, ruthless. And they outnumbered her. They fought in coordinated waves, and soon even Lin Yan’s formidable skills weren’t enough. Within moments, fresh cuts bloomed across her body. She leaned on her baton, retreating step by step, leaving a trail of dark blood spatters on the ground ahead of her.
She couldn’t help but cast a glance toward the empty alley entrance, teeth grinding together.
Fuck. Song Yuhang, if you don’t come soon, this old lady will remember you for the rest of my life.
Perhaps the heavens heard her. Just as another masked man lunged at her and Lin Yan braced herself to counter, a dark silhouette dropped from a second-floor balcony, driving a flying knee straight into her attacker’s skull. The brutal force sent the man hurtling into the wall. Terracotta pots perched on the wall’s edge crashed down, shattering across the ground.
Blood seeped from beneath the man’s mask. His baseball bat rolled uselessly away. He didn’t get up.
Song Yuhang’s arrival took the pressure off instantly. Lin Yan pushed herself upright with her baton.
The two women stood back to back in a defensive stance. Song Yuhang glanced over her shoulder, taking in the cuts and blood covering Lin Yan’s body. Her eyes darkened, her lips pressing into a thin line.
“Are you okay?”
Lin Yan wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, straightened, and called out, “Fine. This is nothing. I can still fight!”
Song Yuhang shook her head. She grabbed Lin Yan’s wrist and lowered her voice. “You go first. I’ll hold them off.”
“Ha! These goons? No need to hold anything off — just take them head-on!” Before she finished speaking, Lin Yan charged forward, but not at full power. She fought while steadily working her way toward the alley exit.
Song Yuhang understood immediately. She moved up to cover Lin Yan, absorbing the brunt of the assault. In the chaos, she took more than a few hits, but she still managed to pin down the remaining three men.
Her fighting style was completely different from Lin Yan’s. Where Lin Yan was agile but lacked raw power — enough to defend herself, but less effective on offense — Song Yuhang hit like a hammer. Her punches were brutal, each one landing with solid impact. Her combinations came from impossible angles, impossible to predict.
Even armed, Scar Face couldn’t land a single clean hit on her. Instead, she hammered his temples repeatedly until he spat out a mouthful of filth, reeling.
But her left side was pinned down. An attacker came at her from the oblique rear. Lin Yan deflected the blow with her baton, but the force knocked her back several steps. Blood had soaked through her entire arm now, dripping steadily from her fingertips.
Song Yuhang barked, “Still not leaving?!”
“And leave you here with them?!” Not one of these men would be easy to take alone, let alone three.
Song Yuhang drove an elbow into her opponent’s face, then yanked him around and seized the arm gripping his baton, wrenching it downward. The masked man howled and tried to rise. Song Yuhang flipped him around, trapped his arm in a neck crank, and slammed his head into the ground.
She held the line alone, fighting three opponents to carve an escape route for Lin Yan. She maintained her grip on the man and looked back. “Go!”
Lin Yan gritted her teeth, gripping her baton, and bolted for the alley mouth. But Scar Face had dragged himself off the ground. He drew back his arm and hurled the dagger straight at her head.
Song Yuhang’s pupils contracted. The two men she’d been holding grabbed her arms, wrapping their bodies around hers to pin her.
She roared, driving off her heels with brute muscular force, actually pushing two grown men forward across the pavement. Her heels scraped two white lines on the tiles as she used the momentum to hurl them away, both men crashing to the ground. At the same instant, she screamed: “Lin Yan, get down!”
At the sound of her voice — perhaps it was instinct — Lin Yan didn’t stop to think. She rarely obeyed anyone so readily, but this time she tucked and rolled, narrowly dodging the lethal blade.
But—
Drip.
Drip.
Blood beaded down the hilt and spattered onto the ground.
Song Yuhang looked down at the knife buried in her own chest. She coughed twice, blood frothing at the corners of her lips.
Scar Face grinned savagely. “Surprised? Who goes out with just one knife? I’m not like you cops, so precious with your lives.”
He gripped the hilt with both hands and twisted it, driving the blade deeper until it sank entirely into her flesh and bone.
Song Yuhang clenched her teeth, blood instantly soaking through her shirt. Eyes burning red, she fixed her glare on Scar Face and grabbed his wrists with both hands, shoving him backward step by step. With every step, more blood frothed at her lips. The knife drove deeper. She looked back at Lin Yan, but her vision was already blurring.
A faint smile crossed Song Yuhang’s lips. If she couldn’t see clearly, that meant… Lin Yan was safe now.
Scar Face, his wrists locked in her grip, was forced backward with every step. The knife handle disappeared into her body, and terror flashed across his face. “You’re insane!”
He couldn’t afford to wait any longer. The wail of police sirens was already rising in the distance. He lashed out with a knee strike that sent her flying. Song Yuhang crumpled to the ground like a kite with a severed string.
Lin Yan was still frozen, caught in the echo of that last look Song Yuhang had given her. What kind of look was it?
Her meager vocabulary couldn’t capture it.
She only knew that one glance had contained a thousand words — relief, reluctance, longing… and a trace of regret.
Until Song Yuhang collapsed at her side, blood soaking the entire front of her shirt, a gleaming steel knife buried in her chest. Lin Yan’s eyes went red in an instant. She raised her baton and lunged. “Fuck your mother!!!”
Her voice even cracked on the last syllable, edged with a sob.
She didn’t know where the strength came from. She swung the baton in a frenzied blur, every technique abandoned, her mind consumed by a single thought: Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.
Blood streamed down her arm with every swing, her grip growing so slick she could barely hold the baton, until her blood and theirs mingled and the tip of the weapon was coated in something white.
Scar Face slid from her grasp and crumpled to the ground, motionless. Like a dead dog.
She had actually beaten a man to death with her baton.
Lin Yan stood there, chest heaving, bloodshot eyes sweeping the scene. She was drenched in blood — an avenging demon.
The two remaining men stared at her like she was a god of slaughter. One scrambled to his feet and ran. The other stood frozen, baseball bat trembling in his grip, urine running down his legs.
Lin Yan dropped the baton. She turned and lifted Song Yuhang, draping her weight over her own shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Song Yuhang pressed a hand to her wound. The knife hilt still jutted from her flesh. Every step sent a stabbing pain through her core. Sweat poured down her face, her skin pale as bone — but she knew Lin Yan was injured too, and tried to push herself away.
“I… I can walk on my own…”
Lin Yan didn’t let go. One arm around her waist, the other gripping her wrist, her eyes fierce and unyielding. “Shut up.”
“…”
Song Yuhang looked at her profile. This close, she could see her clearly now — the blood and grime smeared across that face, and those eyes, so bright. It wasn’t even evening yet, but she could see stars in them.
The faint floral scent at her neck was entirely overwhelmed by the smell of blood.
For some reason, Song Yuhang felt a pang of regret. “The baton… are you not keeping it?”
Lin Yan glanced at her and said softly, “I don’t want it anymore.”
The author has something to say:
They’re both so badass. Writing fight scenes is exhausting.
A bit better today than yesterday. Thanks for your concern, love you all~
Thanks for reading.
Footnotes
- A premium Chinese cigarette brand; offering them signals wealth and status.
- The ruler of the underworld in Chinese mythology; a figure of absolute authority over who lives or dies.
- A Chinese unit of weight equal to 500 grams.
- From the Chinese 'tiaozi,' a derogatory street slang term for police officers.
- A miniature wireless microphone worn on the collar, used for covert communication.
- 'Sentinel' — the name of a German-made mechanical baton constructed from aviation-grade aluminum, valued for being lightweight, durable, and impact-resistant.
😦
these criminals are everywhere
these criminals are everywhere
quickly save your damsel in distress Song Yuhang !!!
quickly save your damsel in distress Song Yuhang !!!