Miss Forensics – Chapter 13

Volume One: First Scroll

Relationship

Do you know who I am? I’m the ancestor of all thugs!

“How about it? Absolutely juicy stuff, I only want this price—” the male student wearing a gold chain waved two fingers.

The person opposite had dyed yellow hair, an afro, stood with a cigarette between their lips, and wore an old Canon camera around their neck. Seeing his gesture, they blew a smoke ring and turned to leave without a word.

“No, no, wait, look at it first!” The male student grew anxious and chased after her, stuffing the photos into her arms.

“It’s definitely worth this price, or else… I can give you a discount… and help you write some more test papers…”

The woman, cigarette between her fingers, finally looked at him with a half-smile: “Fine, one thousand yuan, not a penny more. Give me the test papers.”

While the student bent down to search his backpack, the woman flipped over the photos. They were clearly taken secretly, the pixels weren’t very clear, but for social news, the blurrier the better – blurriness leaves more to the imagination.

The woman in the photo was Ding Xue, and the man lying on top of her was someone whose name she couldn’t recall.

However, he looked somewhat familiar, though she couldn’t remember who he was – at least it wasn’t her husband.

“This is…” she deliberately flicked the photos with disdain, making them flutter.

The student handed over the test papers: “An affair! This is our principal. What explosive news! I’ve even thought of the headline – ‘Famous Female Teacher at Jiangcheng First High School Has Affair with Superior, Dies Due to Love Triangle!'”

Just as he was speaking proudly, the woman stuffed the photos into her bag and casually pointed behind him: “Hey, look, who’s that? Isn’t that your teacher?”

The student instinctively turned around, and the woman took off running.

“No—f*ck! Damn it!”

Before he could finish speaking, he came to his senses, but the woman had already sprinted to the bus stop at the school gate. The bus had just arrived, and she squeezed into the crowd and boarded. As the doors were about to close, she even waved at him.

The student was so angry smoke seemed to pour from his seven orifices, and he spat viciously on the ground: “F*ck, don’t let me see you again!”

Lin Yan put down her newspaper, walked out of the newsstand, and raised her hand to hail a taxi: “Follow that bus up ahead.”

After the Vice Principal, Song Yuhang visited several other teachers in succession, receiving nothing but evasive responses like “I’m sorry, I don’t know anything” or “I’m not familiar with Teacher Ding.”

When asked if the deceased had any conflicts with anyone, almost everyone gave the same answer.

“Not really, Teacher Ding was a good person, but she was very close to one student. You know, that’s rather taboo in schools…”

That hesitant expression caught her attention.

Song Yuhang closed her notebook, deciding to meet this student named Zhou Mo [周末 | zhōu mò].

“Hello? Chief Editor, eh eh eh… you were saying…” The woman walked while bowing and nodding: “Me? I’m out gathering news.”

“What f*cking news can you gather? You can’t write one decent article! All just petty matters about stealing chickens and dogs! We need trending stories! You understand?! Eye-catching news! If sales don’t improve this month, pack your things and get out!”

The middle-aged man’s roar came through the phone, and Ning Que [寧缺 | níng quē] held the phone slightly away, still maintaining a playful smile.

“Yes, yes, yes, I understand, don’t worry, this time it’s definitely a big selling point. I just got some explosive news about that female teacher who died at Jiangcheng First High—”

Before she could finish, someone blocked her path, casting a shadow on the sidewalk tiles.

She slowly looked up. A woman stood with folded arms, wearing a half-smile, her face quite attractive, though her expression seemed somewhat malicious.

Ning Que thought to herself this couldn’t be good – could this be a fellow journalist?

When she tried to walk around, Lin Yan matched her step for step – when she went left, Lin Yan went left; when she went right, Lin Yan followed right.

Ning Que cleared her throat, putting on a fawning smile: “Are you… looking for me?”

Lin Yan stopped in her tracks, pointing at the bag on her back: “Give me the photos.”

The woman tightened her grip on her backpack strap: “Fellow journalist? Then you should know the rules – an exclusive story can’t possibly—”

Lin Yan pulled out several red bills from her wallet and waved them: “Money is the only rule. Take the money and get lost, leave the photos behind.”

Ning Que’s mind raced. That stack of money wasn’t small, but it couldn’t compare to the security of a steady job. If the magazine’s sales didn’t improve this time, she’d be the first one fired. She had struggled to find this job in Jiangcheng, and absolutely couldn’t risk being dismissed so easily.

“Alright, alright,” Ning Que said, reaching for her bag, slowly pulling it out.

Lin Yan grew impatient: “Hurry up.”

Before she finished speaking, a thick stack of manuscript papers flew at her face, scattering and blocking her vision. Ning Que took off running.

Just as she was about to use the same trick again, attempting to jump onto a roadside motorcycle taxi, Lin Yan caught up in a few steps and delivered a flying kick to her back. Ning Que rolled onto the street, pedestrians scattering like birds and beasts.

She dragged her back by the collar, slapping her face with the money, her tone cold: “If you won’t drink a toast, you’ll have to drink a forfeit” [敬酒不吃吃罰酒 | jìng jiǔ bù chī chī fá jiǔ | idiom meaning to refuse a polite offer and face the consequences].

Though looking thin, she had considerable strength. When Ning Que struggled a few times, she simply sat down on her back. Ning Que was nearly crushed, rolling her eyes skyward, almost foaming at the mouth.

Lin Yan held her head down with one hand while pulling the backpack from her arm with the other. She opened it and rummaged through, finding a camera, voice recorder, and such. In the innermost compartment was stuffed a photo, which she took out and put in her own pocket.

When Ning Que tried to struggle again, she was lifted up by her hair: “You’re too green to play tough with me. Know who I am? I’m the ancestor of all thugs!”

“I’ll let you off this time. Get lost!”

After saying this, she released her and stood up. From a distance, a patrol officer came running with an electric baton: “What’s going on here?!”

Lin Yan stepped back twice: “Nothing… nothing.”

With that, she took off running, fleeing faster than a rabbit.

Only then did Ning Que stand up with the police officer’s help: “Are you alright? Did you lose something? Come to the station with me to file a report, we’ll definitely help you recover your belongings.”

Lin Yan’s kick had been quite forceful, leaving her back numb. Ning Que brushed away the officer’s hand, limping as she picked up the scattered items and papers from the ground.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

She watched the direction Lin Yan had fled, forcefully crumpling the manuscript paper.

“Hello, anyone home?” Song Yuhang knocked gently twice on the door. With no response, she stepped back to survey the entire building.

This was the West District of Jiangcheng City, worlds apart from the East District despite being separated by just one river.

Though called a building, it was merely a three-story flat structure, with adults’ and children’s clothes hanging outside, electrical wires dividing the sky like spider webs.

The alley was cramped, only wide enough for electric bikes to pass. Not far from her feet was a sewage ditch, reeking terribly.

Zhou Mo’s home was here, a shanty beneath the flat building, constructed of sheet metal, scorching hot under the sun, with a dying sunflower placed at the entrance.

Song Yuhang turned to peer through the rust-covered window. Inside, the curtains were drawn, and it was pitch dark.

Her gaze fell on the iron lock hanging on the door, and she pulled a wire from her bag.

“You threw everything away?” The multicolored lights in the KTV flashed, making his face alternate between blue and white.

The male student kept his head down and gave a low “mm” of agreement.

“Good, look, I know you need money. Take this money to use, if it’s not enough, just tell me.”

A stack of renminbi [人民幣 | rén mín bì | Chinese currency] lay on the table, quite a substantial amount.

The male student kept his head down, unmoved.

So the speaker pushed him: “Are you stupid or what? You’re really thinking of telling—”

He suddenly stopped speaking, swallowed, and changed his approach: “There’s less than a month until the gaokao. Think it through – you’ve studied for so many years, endured so much hardship, and now when you’re about to break through, you want to give up?”

“Are you really content to live like this forever, being a good-for-nothing, being poor?”

The male student’s throat moved, his voice hoarse: “But still—”

“You’re different from people like us. Me? It doesn’t matter if I don’t get into university, worst case I’ll go abroad and get some diploma. But if you don’t get into university, you’ll never rise up in life. Do you really want to live in that pigsty forever?”

“Xiao Zhou [小周 | xiǎo zhōu | informal way of addressing Zhou], do you know why people study? All that talk about ‘establishing the heart for heaven and earth, establishing destiny for mankind, continuing the lost teachings of past sages, creating eternal peace for generations’ — it’s all empty words. Such thoughts are fine to have, but it’s also fine not to have them.”

“Because most of us use all our energy just to stay alive, so we study hard just to live better, to change our lives, to buy things we want, to pursue the people we like.”

“Success isn’t only achieved through studying, but studying is indeed a shortcut to success. It doesn’t require you to invest money, it only requires you to work hard, harder, and harder still. Xiao Zhou, teacher doesn’t want you to drop out. You must keep going.”

The words still echoed in his ears, but that person was already eternally sleeping beneath the ground.

The male student clutched his head, letting out a fragile sob from his throat.

The music in the private room was very loud, and no one stopped his emotional release. After quite a while, the music stopped, and the male student slowly raised his head, his gaze falling on the renminbi before him. His throat moved, and he reached out to take it.

At noon, all teams returned and held a brief case analysis.

First was Zheng Chengrui: “We checked the deceased Ding Xue’s computer, nothing unusual, but when we looked at her commonly used communication tools, we found traces of deleted chat records.”

Song Yuhang leaned on her chair, supporting her chin: “With whom? When can we recover them?”

A photo was enlarged on the screen, showing a man wearing gold-rimmed glasses, dressed in a suit, slightly overweight.

“The current principal of Jiangcheng First High School, Ge Jun [葛軍 | gě jūn].”

Song Yuhang understood: “This Ge Jun went on a business trip to the provincial capital last Friday when the incident occurred. He’s a suspect. Send someone to contact the provincial bureau, invite him back for tea and conversation.”

Zhang Jinhai paused while holding his teacup: “That might not be appropriate. After all, he’s the principal of a key municipal high school and a People’s Representative. Let’s wait until we recover the chat records and have solid evidence.”

Everyone’s gaze turned to Song Yuhang, but she showed no reaction, twirling her pen with a neutral expression.

“What findings does Group Two have?”

An investigator stood up with a notebook: “We visited the city’s largest secondhand markets, but found no phones matching the deceased Ding Xue’s model. This phone just launched, it’s expensive, and shouldn’t be easy to sell quickly.”

Another investigator continued: “Also, we visited the deceased Ding Xue’s mother’s home. We learned that the deceased’s marriage with her husband was relatively harmonious. They had arguments but no domestic violence.”

Fang Xin also stood up: “Through neighborhood interviews, this was confirmed. The deceased Ding Xue and Sun Xiangming rarely argued. Moreover, Sun Xiangming has an alibi for the night of the incident.”

Fang Xin presented a statement from Sun Xiangming’s next-door neighbor. According to him, he returned home from overtime work around midnight, and Sun Xiangming opened his door to get takeout food. They even greeted each other.

“We also investigated the street food stall downstairs. Sun Xiangming did order food. We also questioned his workplace manager. He was indeed assigned work that night, so working overtime at home wasn’t a lie.”

Song Yuhang frowned: “What about video surveillance?”

“This is the surveillance footage from the building’s entrance. We watched all night, didn’t dare blink, and definitely didn’t see him leave.”

“Are there any other exits?”

“No, we checked. The fire escape also leads to the building entrance. To leave, one must pass under this camera.”

“So in terms of both motive and timing, Sun Xiangming doesn’t fit, and he has an alibi. Captain Song, should we withdraw surveillance on him?”

Zhang Jinhai’s gaze turned to her. The two often had opposing views – Song Yuhang was somewhat aggressive in investigations while Zhang was more conservative. His rank was one level above hers, so unless Song Yuhang insisted, they usually followed his lead.

Sure enough.

The person sitting opposite nodded: “I have no objections.”

Just then, the video reached the segment showing the deceased Ding Xue leaving. The camera was positioned in front of the building entrance, so it captured everything clearly.

She was seen stumbling, looking panicked, repeatedly glancing behind her, but there was no one there.

“Stop, rewind and play it again.”

Zheng Chengrui pressed pause, and the video rewound.

Again she ran out in panic, with no one around, yet she acted as if she’d seen a ghost. The scene inexplicably gave everyone goosebumps.

Song Yuhang frowned: “Why was she running?”

“Could she have been rushing to school?”

“Teachers are used to seeing student fights, why would she be this agitated?”

“Stop—zoom in,” Song Yuhang focused on her repeated looking back.

Who was chasing her?

Or what was she afraid of?

The video left everyone puzzled. Zhang Jinhai also frowned: “Anyway, let’s proceed like this – suspend the investigation of Sun Xiangming for now. Although investigating the deceased’s close relatives is standard procedure, we shouldn’t presume someone is the murderer. Investigation must be based on evidence.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“I suggest focusing our next investigative efforts on this student called ‘Zhou Mo’ and Ge Jun. Technical investigation team should speed up recovering those chat records.”

“Yes, Captain Zhang,” Zheng Chengrui raised his chubby paw in salute.

Song Yuhang’s pen made one rotation before stopping at her fingertip. She had been sitting casually with her chin propped up, but now straightened up to stare at the surveillance footage.

“I’ve watched the surveillance – she left First High’s gate around 10:30. Logically, she should have headed home at that time, but she went in the completely opposite direction.”

It was a small path with incomplete municipal facilities. The surveillance coverage ended about 500 meters out.

Song Yuhang tapped her pen on the table twice: “Let’s make a bold assumption – what if she wasn’t dumped at Lotus Pond Park, but went there herself? Then why would she choose that time to go to Lotus Pond Park?”

Zhang Jinhai took a sip of tea, then asked for a refill: “We can’t rule out the possibility of some unspeakable relationship between the deceased Ding Xue and Ge Jun. We definitely need to investigate thoroughly.”

The general direction of investigation seemed correct, so she said no more. Her gaze wandered, noting an empty seat in the technical investigation team: “Where’s Forensic Expert Lin?”

Fang Xin quickly responded: “Tinkering with equipment in the pathology lab.”

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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.

Re-translated on March 06, 2025

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