Miss Forensics – Chapter 34
by Little PandaPart One
Aurora
“You… don’t die.” “Mm… won’t die.”
While waiting for the ambulance, Song Yuhang was already fading. The knife had gone in too deep—even with Lin Yan pressing down hard on the wound, blood kept welling up endlessly.
Song Yuhang couldn’t walk anymore. She stumbled and nearly collapsed to her knees. Lin Yan steadied her and helped her sit down, and the two leaned against each other.
Lin Yan held her by the shoulders, watching dark red blood seep from the corner of her mouth with every cough, trailing down her chin.
They had made it out of the alley, but the ambulance still hadn’t arrived. The onlookers pinched their noses and shrank back, as if faced with a plague, forming a semicircle around them and pointing.
Lin Yan felt as though she were trapped inside a giant glass dome—surrounded by people, yet not one of them stepped forward to help. She held Song Yuhang in her arms, feeling her body temperature drain away with every passing second. The blood soaked through her clothes. The two of them huddled together, Lin Yan holding her tight, her hand never leaving the wound, as if she could keep her warm with her own body heat.
Song Yuhang sensed it. A warmth rose in her chest, and she tried to look up at her—only to feel water droplets falling on her face.
Was it… raining?
Lin Yan had buried her face, biting her lip, her lashes trembling.
She was too stubborn. Even her tears were silent.
The moment those scalding tears struck her face, the numbness that had dulled her chest to a distant ache gave way to a sudden, aching tenderness.
Song Yuhang lifted her hand with effort and clasped the one pressed against her wound. Two bloodied hands intertwined—a wordless exchange of strength.
Lin Yan seemed to feel it. She sniffed. “You… don’t die.”
Her voice was barely a whisper, but Song Yuhang heard it. A shimmer of moisture welled in those usually clear eyes.
She curved her lips in a faint smile and squeezed her hand into her own palm. “Mm… won’t die.”
“Make way, make way, let us through!”
Police cars and the ambulance finally arrived. Doctors rushed in with a stretcher, pushing through the crowd. Lin Yan was shoved aside. She turned back in a daze to look at Song Yuhang—she saw doctors kneeling beside her, performing emergency first aid, her body quickly covered in tubes, then lifted onto the ambulance.
She was held down too. People in police uniforms, people in white coats—all kinds of people surrounded her, trying to examine her, trying to insert tubes.
Lin Yan’s head was splitting. She couldn’t make out what anyone was saying. All she could think about was Song Yuhang’s condition. She tried to sit up, sending the IV stand teetering.
“Hold her down! Hold her down! Sedative, get me a sedative!”
Several brawny men lunged forward and pinned her limbs. Lin Yan struggled, eyes red, screaming, and the ambulance interior became chaos.
Only when that tube of clear fluid had fully entered her body did Lin Yan slowly lie back down and go still.
The medical staff breathed a collective sigh of relief.
The resuscitation lasted a full day and night. She’d needed two thousand milliliters of blood before she stabilized—half the total blood volume of an average adult woman.
The moment the surgery light clicked off, Ji Jingxing—who had been pacing the corridor for most of the night—rushed forward. “Doctor, doctor, how is she?”
The doctor removed his mask and offered a smile of relief. “Fortunately, the knife missed the heart. We’ve repaired the damaged blood vessels and nerves in time. The patient has no history of illness and is otherwise in good health. With proper recovery, she should be fine.”
Ji Jingxing exhaled. The other detectives waiting in the corridor also let out their breath. Eyes glistening with tears, she seized the doctor’s hand. “Thank you. Thank you all.”
“You’re welcome. We’re transferring her to the ICU for continued monitoring and treatment. Family members should come along to handle the paperwork.”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Ji Jingxing nodded eagerly. She hurried alongside the wheeled bed, then turned back to grab her bag from the corridor bench.
A few officers followed to help. As she walked, Ji Jingxing kept her eyes downcast, gazing at the pale face on the bed. She looked so much like her brother, Song Yichen—the same eyes, the same features, as if cast from the same mold. Only Song Yichen had been a touch more dashing.
Song Yuhang, on the other hand, had a softer, more feminine gentleness.
Those usually gentle eyes were shut tight. Her lips had no color at all. Her body bristled with life-saving tubes. Monitors blinked—and the scene inevitably reminded her of when he had fallen in the line of duty.
Ji Jingxing’s heart lurched. She nearly burst into tears. Fang Xin, walking beside her, silently offered a tissue and gently patted her back.
“It’s okay, Jie. Captain Song is out of danger now. She’ll be all right.”
Ji Jingxing nodded. She dabbed the corner of her eye with the tissue and managed a wobbly smile. “Mm… by the way, can you tell me how she got hurt?”
It was three days later when she came to again.
The doctor removed her ventilator. Song Yuhang slowly opened her eyes as the world sharpened from blur to focus.
“Captain Song, you’re awake?”
“Captain Song, are you okay? We’ve been worried sick.”
“Officer Song did great this time. There should be a commendation from above.”
…
Her head was stuffed with cotton. She watched their lips open and close but couldn’t make out a word they were saying.
Not until a pair of warm hands took hers did Song Yuhang stir. She crooked her fingers.
“Yuhang, you’re finally awake. Mom calls every day asking about you. She’s worried to death.”
She slowly raised her eyes, her gaze finally focusing on her face. When she tried to speak, her throat burned.
“I… I’m fine… tell her not to worry.”
Ji Jingxing nodded and reached to tuck in her blanket, but Song Yuhang moved her fingers again. Her gaze swept across the people in the room. She struggled to sit up, searching for someone.
“Lin… Lin Yan?”
Meeting Song Yuhang’s gaze, the detectives gathered around the bed all looked away in unison.
Song Yuhang turned her eyes to Fang Xin.
Fang Xin hesitated. “Lin… Forensic Examiner Lin, she… she…”
When Lin Yan woke up, she was handcuffed to the bed. One end of the cuffs was chained to the wheeled bed, which was bolted to the floor. Every window was sealed shut. This was no ordinary hospital—it was a prison hospital, partnered with the police, built to hold criminal suspects.
Lin Yan thrashed, toppling the IV stand. The glass cup and thermos on the bedside table crashed to the floor in pieces.
Several prison guards rushed in and pinned her to the bed. They added another pair of handcuffs.
Still in her hospital gown, Lin Yan was dragged to the interrogation room.
Click—the electronic shackles locked into place. Lin Yan sat in the interrogation chair, hair disheveled, facing several uniformed officers she didn’t recognize. Older than her—they were probably provincial department detectives.
She studied their badge numbers. They were studying her too.
“Is this yours?” Seeing the bent mechanical baton in front of her, Lin Yan’s sluggish brain finally started to piece things together.
She turned her stiff face and curled her lip into a mocking smile. “It’s mine. So what?”
“As a people’s police officer, you have the right to stop any criminal act. But the victim had already ceased his aggression, so self-defense should also have stopped. Yet you struck him repeatedly, brutally, beating him to death in the street. The witnesses and physical evidence are all in place. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Her hair fell forward, screening her face. Through the gaps, Lin Yan stared at the speaker and laughed. She fixed him with a dead stare, grinning through clenched teeth, grinding a chest full of hatred to dust.
“I struck brutally? Where were you when four of them were brutalizing me? Where were you when Scar Face stabbed Song Yuhang and tried to kill her? He attacked me first, but I’m not allowed to fight back? He wanted me dead, but I have to let him live? What kind of logic is that?!”
Lin Yan grew agitated, breathing hard, her bloodshot eyes boring into them.
The officers across from her exchanged glances. The one in charge slapped the table with a folder. “Lin Yan, don’t think your position makes you untouchable. Criminals have human rights too. You knew the law and broke it—that’s an aggravated offense!”
“I spit on that!” Lin Yan spat. Her eyes were so red they looked ready to bleed.
She thought of Chunan’s killer, still at large.
She thought of Sun Xiangming, whom the law had been powerless to stop.
She thought of those four men closing in on her, out for her life.
She thought of the knife Scar Face had driven into Song Yuhang.
Lin Yan clenched her fists, old and new hatred surging through her all at once.
Every word dripped blood.
“Criminals don’t have a fart’s worth of human rights! If criminals have human rights, who protects the rights of ordinary people?! Who protects the rights of the people’s police?! Someone beats me and I can’t fight back? Someone stabs me and I have to stand there and let him? If he doesn’t kill me, I can’t fight back, and if I do fight back and kill him, it’s excessive self-defense?!”
“What kind of bullshit logic is that!!! The law is nothing but a fucking worthless scrap of paper! I’m the one enforcing justice on behalf of Heaven1! Even killing him couldn’t vent my hatred!!!”
Lin Yan roared, chest heaving, struggling. The handcuffs had rubbed her pale wrists raw. The wounds on her shoulder hadn’t healed yet, and blood was slowly seeping through the blue-and-white hospital gown. Several burly prison guards could barely hold her down.
In the observation room next door, Feng Jianguo slammed his hand on the desk in front of the large monitor. “This Lin Yan—she’s going to be the death of me!”
The older man standing beside him was far more composed. Zhao Junfeng skimmed the foam from his tea, took a slow sip, and said, “An ordinary suicide case has unraveled a cross-city ring forcing underage girls into prostitution, spanning two coastal cities. We still don’t know how many interest groups are tangled up in this. Lin Yan’s lashing out wouldn’t matter—except the dead man was a key witness. What a waste. Otherwise, it would have been a major achievement.”
Two weeks later, Song Yuhang was transferred from the ICU to a regular ward.
Ji Jingxing sat by the bed, peeling an apple. “Mom wants to bring Xiaowei to see you…”
Song Yuhang gave a wry smile and cut in. “Better not. She’d be upset seeing me like this. Besides, Xiaowei has summer classes. Don’t waste the time. I’ll be back in a few days.”
Ji Jingxing peeled the apple in one clean, unbroken strip. She brought a plate and cut it into small pieces for easy eating.
“I know you well enough. I already turned her down. But you can’t check out this early. You need to stay at least a little longer and recover properly. You’re young—don’t go leaving yourself with lasting complications.”
Song Yuhang nodded, watching her bustle about. “Jie… I can’t eat that much… if you don’t go back, will Xiaowei be okay on her own?”
Ji Jingxing’s hand paused mid-cut. “It’s fine. Mom is taking care of her. I’m not worried.”
“I’ll do it myself, I’ll do it myself.”
Ji Jingxing handed her the cut apple. Song Yuhang freed her usable left hand, speared a piece with a toothpick, popped it in her mouth, and spoke only after chewing.
“That’s true, but Xiaowei’s never been away from you this long. Don’t worry, I’m fine now. My colleagues are looking after me. Go home early. The food and sleep here are terrible.”
At the mention of colleagues, Song Yuhang’s thoughts inevitably drifted to that person. How was she doing now?
While she was lost in thought, Ji Jingxing fell silent for a long while. She set down the plate and softly called her name.
“Yuhang—”
Song Yuhang snapped back. “What is it, Jie?”
Ji Jingxing’s hand on the blanket crumpled the sheet. “Do you remember what you said to me when your brother died?”
Song Yuhang froze. She slowly recalled that day, her voice turning rough.
When their father died, she and her brother were still young. Their mother was their backbone.
When their brother died, their mother was already old, white-haired, nearly collapsing from grief on the ground.
Her sister-in-law, five months pregnant, had crumpled to the floor.
She was the only backbone left in that family. Song Yuhang walked over. She didn’t cry. She gathered them both into her arms—one in each—patting their backs, helping them breathe.
In her police uniform, she swore by the national emblem: “Mom, don’t be afraid. You still have me.”
Ji Jingxing was beyond words with grief. Song Yuhang held her and repeated in her ear, over and over: “Sister-in-law, don’t be afraid. From now on, I’ll protect you and Xiaowei.”
“I remember—” She forced the words out with difficulty.
Ji Jingxing seized her hand, eyes reddening. “I’m glad you remember. Please, don’t ever be so reckless again. Protect yourself. When you’re up against vicious criminals and you can’t win, retreat. What happens to others is not your… If you’re gone, how are Mom, Xiaowei, and I supposed to live?”
A warmth flooded Song Yuhang’s heart, but she frowned slightly. She was about to argue: “Lin Yan isn’t just some—”
The ward door swung open with a clatter. Several detectives escorted Zhao Junfeng in.
Song Yuhang stopped mid-sentence. She discreetly pulled her hand back and raised her hand to salute, only to wince as the movement pulled at her wounds, face twisting in pain.
Zhao Junfeng couldn’t help but smile. “Feeling better?”
“Reporting, much better. Thank you for your concern, Director Zhao.” Song Yuhang sat up straighter.
Zhao Junfeng’s gaze shifted between them. “I’m not interrupting you two, am I?”
Ji Jingxing tactfully stood and picked up her wallet from the table. “Not at all. You two talk. I’ll go buy a few things.”
After Ji Jingxing left, the detectives filed out as well, pulling the door shut behind them. Song Yuhang knew—Director Zhao was here to talk business.
In the two weeks Song Yuhang had been bedridden, the police hadn’t been idle. Following the trail from Scar Face, they had traced his criminal syndicate.
“Scar Face’s real name is Chen Wu. Former military. Ten years ago, he was imprisoned for rape and manslaughter. He behaved well inside and got his sentence reduced. After release, he remained a bum—idling about, terrorizing locals, committing every kind of crime. The police brought him in for reeducation several more times. After his full sentence was served, he hooked up with a man codenamed ‘Vulture,’ a criminal figure, and became his top enforcer. For profit, the syndicate lured young women through fake job postings and part-time work ads—only to funnel them into brothels for their clients’ pleasure. They even developed a pyramid structure: for every young woman introduced, the recruiter earned three hundred to one thousand yuan. He Miao’s uncle was the one who sent her in.”
“Before every duped woman was put to work, Vulture or one of his men would deflower her. If she was obedient, she got paid. If not, they’d beat her half to death.”
“We’ve arrested several minor bosses. They confirmed that three months ago, He Miao was seen entering Vulture’s room. The final DNA comparison results aren’t in yet, but the timeline matches.”
“He Miao wasn’t the first victim. We deeply regret that we couldn’t save her young life. But we will make sure she’s the last.”
Zhao Junfeng stood by the window, facing the sunset, and exhaled heavily. “The provincial department has established a task force for the June 1 Case. The operation codename is—Aurora!”
Song Yuhang’s heart surged. She gathered her strength and raised her right hand to her temple in a salute. “Song Yuhang, Deputy Captain of the Criminal Investigation Detachment, Jiangcheng City Public Security Bureau, requests to join the task force and participate in the arrest operation!”
A remote village, far from the city.
Night fell. All was quiet.
On the silent mountain road, only the man’s ragged, bellows-like breathing could be heard.
He ran and glanced back, stumbling. When dogs barked from a distant village, he panicked and dove to the ground, clutching his head.
He had no idea how far he’d gone. The barking stopped. The mountain road was silent except for the chirp of crickets and the drone of cicadas.
The man let out a breath. He stopped by a stream, splashed water on his face, then bent down and gulped several mouthfuls. Only then did he stand up and look around. He spotted a public phone booth not far away, scooped up his scattered clothes, and scrambled over.
He dialed a string of numbers. It rang many times before connecting.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.” The man kept his voice low. “Didn’t you fucking say you’d cover me if things went south? The cops came right to my fucking door. This daddy got beat so bad I don’t even have my underwear left.”
A pause on the other end.
“Didn’t I tell you to head south and take a boat out to sea?”
“Don’t feed this daddy your fucking bullshit. Get me a new ID and a new phone number. Pick me up at the border. Otherwise, if I fall into the cops’ hands, you’re going down with me!”
After he finished speaking, the signal briefly lagged.
“Hello? Hello?” the man hissed. Just as he was about to shout the man’s name, the other end spoke.
“Fine, no problem. License plate Bin-AH4578 will meet you at the border with your new identity. Head south the whole way. Take a bus, not a train. You’ll be there soon.”
The man grunted in satisfaction and hung up.
The person sitting in darkness popped out the SIM card and fed it into a shredder, grinding it to dust.
He tapped his knee idly, counting the rhythm.
No matter. The card was gone—and the man would soon be dead too.
The author has something to say:
Q&A with readers—Can you update more frequently?
—No, not a drop left.jpg
—Why did I buy the full text but still can’t see the latest chapters?
—I don’t know, I really don’t know. I’m just a word-grinding machine with no feelings (please ask customer service).
—Why is the setting 2008?
—Because it’s the setting, that’s why it’s the setting.
—Why doesn’t Captain Song carry a gun?
—China is a country with strict gun control. Not just any police officer can carry a firearm 24/7. According to Article 7 of the 《Regulations on the Carriage and Use of Firearms by People’s Police Officers of Public Security Organs》, police officers shall carry firearms when performing the following duties:
(1) Handling and investigating violent criminal acts;
(2) Apprehending, searching, escorting, summoning, detaining, or arresting criminal suspects;
(3) Performing armed patrol duties;
(4) Performing armed guard duty and emergency response at public security checkpoints and control points;
(5) Performing armed stationary duty at key locations and areas such as stations, airports, docks, and ports;
(6) Performing household investigations, verification, and other counterterrorism and anti-riot duties in key areas;
(7) Other circumstances as legally prescribed by public security organs at or above the provincial level.
The above content is from an encyclopedia.
As described earlier in the story, the most important task of Song Yuhang and Lin Yan’s trip… (it’s long, I’m too lazy to copy and paste) did not fall within any of the above categories permitting firearms. (One more thing: carrying a gun also requires a firearms license.)
And Lin Yan’s profession is forensic examiner, a non-frontline combat role, so she even more so could not carry a gun.
As for why Song Yuhang didn’t carry a gun, there’s a foreshadowing here that will be expanded on later. Gunfights and such—there will be some in the future.
The above content is all from the internet. If there are errors or omissions, please point them out for correction later.
Thank you for reading.
Today is another day of loving you all!
Aight, if you touch my gf you gonna die.
Aight, if you touch my gf you gonna die.
🙃
🙃