Miss Forensics – Chapter 20

Volume One: First Scroll

Opponent

“S” could be Song, could be Sun, and of course, could also be “Shi” [诗 | shī | poetry]!

Lin Yan lit a cigarette. By the time she finished it, the car had arrived. She opened the door, got in, and glanced in the rearview mirror, noticing a car not far behind starting its engine.

“Miss, where to?” the driver asked.

Lin Yan fastened her seatbelt. “I haven’t decided yet. Just drive around, Shifu.”

After circling the city a few times, the car was still tailing her relentlessly. The driver’s tracking method was clever; keeping a significant distance yet always catching up just as she was about to disappear.

A faint smile played on Lin Yan’s lips. Interesting.

“Shifu, to the City Public Security Bureau.”

Before dawn, a crowd of media reporters were already camped outside the City Public Security Bureau. The moment Lin Yan stepped out of the car, she was surrounded, all sorts of cameras and microphones thrust in front of her.

“Miss Lin, Miss Lin, we heard you also conducted the forensic examination on this case.”

“Miss Lin, was the murderer the victim’s husband or someone else?”

“There are rumors about the victim’s complicated personal life, an alleged affair with the principal of Jiangcheng First High School. Could this be the motive for the murder?”

She remained silent, pushing her way through the crowd. Someone pursued her relentlessly, “Miss Lin, Miss Lin, tell us about the case…”

The pursuing reporter was stopped by police officers as she reached the lobby, allowing Lin Yan to escape. Zhang Jinhai, who was receiving officials from the Procuratorate, brightened when he saw her return and greeted her warmly.

“Oh, Forensic Doctor Lin is back! How’s the case going?”

Lin Yan responded indifferently, “Ah, probably a dead end.”

Zhang Jinhai slapped his thigh and stood up, his face creased with worry. “Ai, I told you! This whole thing… what a mess. Even if we find evidence, it might not be enough…”

He swallowed the rest of his sentence in the presence of the procuratorate officials. Noticing Lin Yan’s less-than-pleasant expression, he quickly offered, “It’s good you’re back. Forensic Doctor Lin, you’ve worked hard on this case. Go get some rest.”

That was precisely what she was waiting for.

Lin Yan nodded slightly. “Alright, I’ll get some sleep. If there are any cases today, let another forensic doctor handle them.”

After she left, Zhang Jinhai sat back down and chatted with the procuratorate officials. “This is our newly recruited Forensic Doctor Lin Yan. See? She’s not as aloof as the rumors say…”

Her damp clothes felt uncomfortable. Lin Yan took off her jacket as she walked, glancing discreetly behind her. The little tail that had been following her had disappeared.

The hallway of the City Public Security Bureau bustled with people: staff, hurrying criminal investigators, and ordinary citizens on errands. The situation with Sun Xiangming, dealing with the media and the Procuratorate’s inquiries, added to the chaos. Everyone has burned head and scorched forehead [焦头烂额 | jiāo tóu làn é | meaning overwhelmed and stressed].

Director Feng paced back and forth in his office. “We still need to assign a few people to monitor him. We absolutely cannot allow him to leave Jiangcheng. Public opinion trying to interfere with judicial justice? Preposterous!”

His words brought to mind a legend circulating within the Jiangcheng police force years ago. “Iron shoulders bear morality, a loyal heart builds the police soul” [铁肩担道义，丹心筑警魂 | Tiě jiān dān dào yì, dān xīn zhù jǐng hún | motivational slogan emphasizing duty and integrity within the police force] was the motto Zhao Junfeng gifted him upon his appointment as Director of the Jiangcheng Public Security Bureau. Despite his age, his weight gain, and his diminished physical prowess, he had once been a formidable officer, apprehending drug traffickers across provinces, fighting criminals at the border, rescuing hostages in life-or-death situations, and even clinging to a drug lord’s leg after being shot during a raid on a drug lab until reinforcements arrived. That incident made Feng Jianguo famous and paved the way for his subsequent promotions. Over the years, he’d retreated from the front lines, his temper mellowing, but his words still carried an air of authority that made the young officer straighten up and salute. “Yes, Director! I’ll ensure the task is completed. Sun Xiangming will not leave our sight!”

He turned to leave, but Director Feng turned back. “Where’s Song Yuhang?”

The young officer hesitated. “She should be on her way back, sir.”

Observing Director Feng’s expression, the young officer quietly closed the door behind him, thinking: Captain Song is in deep trouble this time. She’ll at least get a reprimand.

Lost in thought, he bumped into a cleaner working in the hallway, knocking the broom to the floor. He bent down to pick it up. “Sorry.”

The cleaner wore the standard uniform hat and mask, their back hunched, appearing elderly, their voice raspy.

“It’s fine.”

The cleaner continued sweeping the dust along the tiled floor.

The officer continued down the hallway, clutching his files, suddenly feeling uneasy. The cleaner’s face was unfamiliar. Were they new? He turned back to look, but the hallway was empty. A shiver ran down his spine. Damn it, seeing ghosts in broad daylight now.

Song Yuhang leaned against the car door, blood trickling down her fingers, cut by shards of glass from the garbage heap. Fang Xin offered a pack of tissues to cover the wounds.

Song Yuhang subtly avoided her hand. “It’s nothing, just a small cut. Tell the others we’re done.”

The rain had stopped, but the sky remained gloomy, low-hanging clouds threatening a larger storm. Sleep-deprived, Song Yuhang’s eyes were bloodshot, her hair disheveled, her clothes reeking of garbage. The others were in similar states, collapsing into their seats in the car, silent, the atmosphere stagnant and heavy. Soon, snores filled the air.

Duan Cheng, fighting off sleep, drove. Song Yuhang leaned back, her tense features relaxing, her face pale from exhaustion. Finally, she showed a flicker of fatigue. Everyone in the car was physically and mentally drained, and she was no exception. Her usually sharp mind began to wander.

One moment she saw the victim, Ding Xue’s, face. The next, Sun Xiangming, grinning eerily at her through the bars of a cell. The scene shifted again: a vast expanse of white, she seemed to be in a field of reeds, her fingers brushing against the fluffy plumes, the wind swirling them up to land on her eyebrows.

She heard someone say softly, “He can’t afford a diamond ring, so I’ll give you one.”

Another familiar female voice replied, “No need. From Forensic Doctor Lin, I wouldn’t even want a soda can tab.”

She frowned in her sleep, following the voice, only to plunge into a cold swamp. They stared at each other like wild beasts, each wanting to lunge and strangle the other.

“Since heaven and earth are indifferent, what’s wrong with me delivering justice in their place?”

Delivering justice.

For whom? What kind of justice?

Song Yuhang pondered these words, like pouring clarified butter over one’s head [醍醐灌顶 | tí hú guàn dǐng | a sudden enlightenment or realization], piercing the fog in her mind. She bolted upright, her jacket sliding off, her expression shifting rapidly.

“Duan Cheng, change course! We’re not going back to the bureau. Go directly to Sun Xiangming’s house!”

Duan Cheng, on the verge of sleep, was startled awake. “Wh-what’s wrong, Captain Song?” he stammered.

“This case isn’t over. Hurry, there’s no time to lose!”

Song Yuhang fumbled for her phone, calling the officers staked out near Sun Xiangming’s house.

In that moment of clarity, she’d understood more. When she and Lin Yan first visited the school to gather information, Li Shiping hadn’t been questioning Lin Yan about Ding Xue’s death out of mere curiosity, but out of concern for someone else.

She recalled her visit to Li Shiping’s home. Many awards hung on the wall, all for teaching competitions, all first place.

Song Yuhang casually asked, “You teach chemistry?”

Li Shiping sipped her coffee. “Yes, I’ve been interested in it since middle school. I wanted to be a scientist, but somehow ended up as a teacher.”

Why would a chemistry teacher have so many English original works in her office?

The answer was self-evident.

And the overly pristine photos in the display case.

And that ring. “S” could be Song, could be Sun, and of course, could also be “Shi”.

Lin Yan had noticed those details, and it was unlikely Li Shiping hadn’t also. So, what had clouded her judgment? Was it an unwillingness to believe such a relationship could exist, or…

A chilling fear coursed through her.

Song Yuhang bit her lip until it bled, tasting the metallic tang. She raked her hair back, revealing her forehead, her eyes bloodshot.

“Duan Cheng, faster!”

There’s no time.

“Hello, your takeout is here.” A knock came at the door. Sun Xiangming had just finished showering and was drying his hair. He peered through the peephole. It was the delivery person from the restaurant downstairs where he frequently ordered, wearing their uniform, holding a bag, stepping back to call him.

“Coming, coming.” He placed the towel on the entryway table and opened the door a crack, reaching for the food.

The delivery person didn’t hand it over. “Sir, could you please leave a good review? Just a few words about the taste, the boss requires it. Please help me out.”

It was a hot summer day, but the person in front of him wore a long-sleeved uniform, a baseball cap with the restaurant’s logo, and a mask for hygiene, only their eyes visible, a pleading look in them. Beads of sweat glistened on their temples beneath the cap.

Sun Xiangming impatiently took the offered pen and paper, writing on the sticky note as he spoke. “The stir-fried clams I ordered last time were good, but they weren’t cleaned properly. I found sand in several bites. Tell your boss…”

His words trailed off. The delivery person nodded and bowed. “Yes, yes, you’re right.”

A glint of metal flashed from their loose sleeve. Sun Xiangming suddenly felt something was wrong. He looked up into the delivery person’s eyes, which continued to smile at him.

For some reason, he thought the eyes looked familiar, and a shiver ran down his spine. He stopped writing, shoved the note and pen back, grabbed the food, and slammed the door shut.

In that instant, the delivery person, Li Shiping, moved.

With unexpected strength, she grabbed his arm, the door slamming against it repeatedly.

Sun Xiangming howled in pain, bones grinding. The person in black leaped from the fourth-floor atrium, darting into the fire escape. The heavy metal door swung open, and a figure slumped to the floor.

Stripped naked except for their underwear, their neck was checked for a pulse. Still alive.

A tiny pinprick was visible on their neck. Drugged unconscious.

The figure in black didn’t hesitate, racing up the fire escape. Just as they were about to reach the fifth floor, a tall man with a miniature microphone in his ear emerged from the restroom.

Undercover!

The figure in black froze, a ruthless glint flashing in their eyes.

The two grappled, crashing into the apartment, knocking over the entryway table, takeout scattering across the floor. Sun Xiangming tried to yell, and the woman grabbed the fallen towel to stifle his cries. The difference in strength was too great. Sun Xiangming regained his senses, choked her, kicked her away, and pinned her to the ground, his hands tightening around her throat.

A syringe rolled out of her sleeve.

Li Shiping’s face turned pale, struggling uselessly, trying to pry his fingers loose. Her head lolled to the side, her eyes landing on the syringe. A surge of hatred filled her gaze.

Driven by this force, she stretched her fingers, inching the syringe closer, her mind flashing back to her first encounter with Ding Xue.

She had known Ding Xue long before Sun Xiangming.

Back then, she was a teacher, and Ding Xue was her student.

It was a spring day, filled with swirling willow blossoms and dust motes dancing in the air. She had just had an argument with her husband and had arrived at school to check on the students’ cleaning duties.

“Good morning, Teacher Li.”

“Morning.”

“Morning.”

…

Students entered the school one after another. A teenage girl with a ponytail skipped along the street, picking flowers and catching willow catkins.

Frowning, she watched as the girl stopped at the jianbing [煎饼 | jiānbǐng | savory Chinese crepe] stall by the school gate. “Hurry up! You’re going to be late, you know?”

Ding Xue turned around, reluctantly patting her stomach, then putting her money in the vendor’s metal box. “Grandpa, please save one for me. I’ll pick it up tomorrow morning.”

The old man chuckled. “Alright, little girl. Hurry along now, don’t be late.”

Ding Xue ran into the school, her large backpack bouncing, just as the bell rang. Passing by Li Shiping, she stopped, offering her a freshly picked rose.

The girl’s eyes sparkled, her voice bright. “Teacher, your eyes are red. Don’t be sad. I promise I won’t be late tomorrow! Here’s a flower for you. Smile more!”

Who could resist such a bright, innocent young person?

Ding Xue had burst into her life in that hasty manner, and stayed for decades.

“Do you know what I regret the most?” Li Shiping pushed the last of the liquid in the syringe into Sun Xiangming’s vein.

Her voice was calm, but her body trembled. As the syringe emptied, she knelt down, covering her face, and wept.

“It was me. I persuaded her to get married. It was me… I ruined her. If only I had been braver back then, she wouldn’t have met that scum Sun Xiangming, and we wouldn’t be here today.”

The figure in black stood in the shadows by the doorway, lips moving, but saying nothing.

Sun Xiangming lay still on the floor, foaming at the mouth, lifeless.

He was dead.

Ding Xue was dead.

Li Shiping was about to join them.

She swallowed the pill hidden under her tongue, then pulled out her phone. The lock screen password was Ding Xue’s birthday. She longed to see her face one last time, but her vision blurred. She thought it was tears, but it was blood splattering onto the screen.

She wiped the blood off the phone, revealing the girl’s warm smile. It was a photo from the summer Ding Xue graduated university and returned to Jiangcheng First High School to teach. They were at Lotus Pond Park, a clear, breezy evening filled with the fragrance of lotus blossoms. She had confessed her feelings to the woman she’d loved for years.

She remembered the gentle breeze rustling Ding Xue’s hair, her flushed face and shy expression. Already an adult, yet so nervous she didn’t know what to do with her hands.

Li Shiping hadn’t refused when Ding Xue leaned in to kiss her, her own fingers clutching her clothes in anticipation.

Li Shiping coughed, blood spraying across the screen. Panicked, she wiped the phone on her clothes, then pressed her bloody lips against the screen for one last kiss. She placed the phone against her chest and closed her eyes.

“Li Shiping!” The figure in black rushed forward, shaking her shoulder, but it was too late.

Sirens wailed below. Song Yuhang jumped out of the car, gun drawn. “Team One, secure Unit One! Don’t let a fly escape! Team Two, with me! We’re breaching! If they resist, shoot to kill!”

The sound of police boots on the stairs echoed. The figure in black calmly laid Li Shiping on the floor, pulled on gloves, and meticulously wiped every surface they had touched: fingerprints, bloodstains, footprints, even the doorknob. They plucked two hairs from Li Shiping’s shoulder before retreating to the doorway, setting the air conditioner to sixteen degrees Celsius, and quietly closing the door.

Turning around, Song Yuhang charged up the stairs, gun drawn. “Stop! Police! Don’t move, or I’ll shoot!”

From a distance of several meters, the figure in black bolted, the bullet grazing their leg, leaving two marks on the ground.

Song Yuhang sprang after them like a panther. “Target sighted! Target sighted! Secure the fire escape!”

Several officers poured out of the fire escape, aiming punches and kicks at the fleeing figure’s head. The figure in black dodged, sprinting towards the balcony.

Just as their hand grasped the railing, a sharp pain shot through their lower back. They were kicked down, rolling to avoid Song Yuhang’s incoming kick, then springing to their feet, delivering a swift, vicious uppercut.

Fists collided, both staggering back. Song Yuhang lunged again, a flurry of blows exchanged, neither gaining an advantage. She tried to rip off the figure’s mask, but her arm was caught, locked in a stalemate. Spotting an exposed water pipe, Song Yuhang drove her weight forward, slamming the figure against the wall, her grip like a vise on their shoulders.

A loud crash echoed as plaster and dust rained down.

An ordinary person would have been knocked unconscious, but the figure in black, with combat experience rivaling Song Yuhang’s, gripped the protruding ends of the broken pipe, using the momentum to launch themselves into the air, their feet driving forward with brutal force.

Their kick landed squarely in Song Yuhang’s abdomen, a devastating blow. Her grip loosened, and she was sent flying backwards, crashing into the opposite wall, coughing up blood.

The officers behind her drew their guns as the figure in black, not waiting, vaulted over the balcony railing, leaping from the fifth floor.

Song Yuhang scrambled to the edge, half her body leaning over, managing to tear off a piece of the figure’s clothing.

The figure plummeted like a kite, then with swift precision, a black baton slammed into the second-floor railing, arresting their fall. With a pull-up, they scrambled onto the railing, disappearing into the corridor.

Song Yuhang slammed her fist against the railing. “Damn it! After them!”

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LP: Re-translated on March 17, 2025

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