Volume One: First Scroll
Probing
“Officer Song, I’m begging you.”
“Hey, Lin-jie, working so late again?” A colleague getting ready to leave asked her.
Lin Yan switched on the desk lamp, setting her washed lunchbox aside.
“Yeah, still busy.”
“Well, Lin-jie, we’re heading off then. See you.”
Lin Yan gave a slight nod, acknowledging them.
After everyone had left the office, Lin Yan pulled open a drawer and took out a yellowed file, gently brushing off the dust.
Opening the first page, her fingertips traced the line of small characters, her jaw tightening gradually.
Jiangcheng City Public Security Bureau.
Forensic Autopsy Report.
Jiangcheng Public Security Bureau Forensic Autopsy Identification Character (1994) No. 23.
What followed was a long case summary and detailed autopsy findings. Though she couldn’t seem to take in a single word, she forced herself to digest it, character by character, sentence by sentence, until her eyes became bloodshot and she bit her tongue against her teeth, tasting blood.
—On June 18, 1994, a sanitation worker in our city, during routine work at Fen Yang Pier, discovered a bag of unidentified pieces of flesh in a trash bin. Forensic examination confirmed it to be human tissue.
As her gaze moved down the page, Lin Yan felt as if she were back in that summer. The weather was scorching, 40°C (104° Fahrenheit) heat, the sun blazing overhead, yet standing outside the funeral home, she felt an inexplicable chill in her hands and feet.
The words those criminal investigators had said to her materialized again as black characters on white paper before her eyes.
—The tissue fragments are incomplete, missing the head, torso, bones, etc. DNA identification confirmed the deceased as Chen Chunan, a third-year high school student from Jiangcheng City No. 1 High School.
These three words stung her eyes deeply. Lin Yan clenched her right hand into a fist, gasping violently as she leaned on the desk, like someone on the verge of drowning.
She wanted to crumple this paper, crush it, throw it far away, yet she had to read on, word by word, sentence by sentence. As she chewed down the hatred filling her chest, her eyes grew hot, and almost uncontrollably, water stains appeared on the desktop.
She covered her mouth with her hand, letting out stifled sobs that caught in her throat in the empty room.
After a few short, deep breaths, she tilted her head back, forcing the tears back. She dug her nails into her palms, compelling herself to calm down, but her body still trembled violently. Her heart felt like it was being twisted by a knife, and the sense of suffocation almost made it impossible to breathe.
There wasn’t much time left; she had to put the file back quickly. Lin Yan fumbled1 to open the drawer, took out a bottle of chewing gum, poured out several pieces without counting, stuffed them all into her mouth, and washed them down with the cold water left on the desk from the morning.
She closed her eyes, steadied her breathing, and after composing herself, continued flipping through the pages, wanting to see the photos taken during the autopsy back then. But after turning several pages, there was nothing.
She turned the file folder upside down. A few thin sheets of paper fell out, still no photos.
This was impossible!
Under current law, autopsies must be conducted alongside criminal photography and videography. The photos taken are sealed together with the file.
When the case file is archived, the chief forensic examiner signs off, the director forensic examiner signs off, the head of criminal investigation signs off, and after being submitted to the Public Security Bureau Chief for approval to close the case, it is transferred to the archives department for unified management.
If even one step in this process went wrong, not only would it be impossible to pull off a switch2, but it would be a major offense punishable by dismissal3!
Who was it? Who!
Lin Yan gritted her teeth and flipped directly to the end of the file, searching for the name of the chief forensic examiner responsible for the autopsy at the time.
Li Bin4.
She quickly pulled out her phone, took a picture of this page, then straightened the file back to its original state, stuffed it into the large inner pocket of her white coat, and got up to head towards the archive room.
“Yo, not bad. I just went to the restroom, and you guys have already sorted so much.”
Song Yuhang didn’t even look up. “I thought you’d used the bathroom excuse to sneak off5 for good.”
“Tsk, am I that kind of person? For the sake of Captain Song’s meal offer, I’ll reluctantly accompany you for some overtime,” Lin Yan said, bending down slightly to pick up the stack of files in front of her.
“These are all sorted, right? I’ll put them back first, otherwise there’s no place to sit.”
Song Yuhang looked up at her, her expression unchanged. “Fine. We were so focused on taking them out, we forgot to put them back.”
Lin Yan turned and left. Song Yuhang watched her retreating back, seemingly lost in thought.
That night was the first time Lin Yan had voluntarily worked overtime so late.
She rubbed her eyes as she flipped through case files, transcribing important points onto paper and handing them to Zheng Chengrui for collation and organization.
The others were doing the same.
This kind of work was tedious and dull; even Song Yuhang couldn’t help yawning several times.
Duan Cheng ran out to the small shop and bought them a large bag of canned coffee. He sat there, copying notes while his head bobbed up and down like a chick pecking rice6, eventually slumping onto the table, unable to get back up.
Outside the window, all sounds were hushed7. In the autumn night, even the chirping of insects was absent. The entire city Public Security Bureau building sank into darkness, with only this one area still lit.
Zheng Chengrui stared at the computer, his eyes red from exhaustion. Fang Xin got up several times to go to the restroom. The coffee cans in the plastic bag gradually emptied.
The last can was reached for by both her and Song Yuhang simultaneously.
Lin Yan paused, instinctively pulling her hand back, but the other woman pushed it towards her again, even opening the pull-tab for her.
“Here.”
Her gaze shifted over, but that person had already lowered her head again, focusing on the file in her hands.
Lin Yan took a sip, then put it down and continued working.
Outside, the moon gradually sank in the west, and the east began to show the fish-belly white8 of dawn. Even with the coffee keeping her awake, she couldn’t hold on any longer. Unconsciously, she slumped onto the table, letting her thoughts drift back to the summer of 1994.
Song Yuhang stood up, preparing to return the last stack of files to the shelf. After taking two steps, she saw Lin Yan sleeping soundly, turned back, took off her own jacket, and gently draped it over her.
She walked deeper into the archives, following the years, placing the files in her hands into their categorized spots. Perhaps her mind wandered, but looking at the unlit, dark area ahead, she suddenly shuddered all over.
Song Yuhang pressed her lips together tightly and continued walking inward until her steps halted before the label for 1994.
Her fingertips brushed across these yellowed case files, inevitably picking up some dust, until—
She pulled out a file from among them. The sealing thread was still intact, preserved very well, only it felt much cleaner to the touch than the dust-covered files beside it.
Song Yuhang bypassed the thread.
“Chunan!” A woman’s terrified voice came from the reading room outside.
Song Yuhang dropped the file and ran out.
Lin Yan was slumped over the table, trembling all over, eyes closed, her face deathly pale, sweat-soaked hair clinging tightly to her forehead.
Song Yuhang placed a hand on her shoulder. “Lin Yan? Wake up—”
Lin Yan startled awake abruptly, grabbing Song Yuhang’s wrist and about to exert force, only gradually regaining focus when she met those light brown eyes.
Song Yuhang released her hand, a trace of obvious concern in her eyes. “Had a nightmare?”
Lin Yan pressed her forehead, trying to steady herself. “No— Have they all left?”
“Yeah, mostly finished organizing. There’s a meeting first thing tomorrow, so I let them all go back.”
Song Yuhang went to the water dispenser and poured her a cup of warm water. “Not feeling well? You look terrible.”
Lin Yan held the warm paper cup, the jacket draped over her shoulders still retaining some warmth.
She seemed to have finally emerged completely from that dream, managing a faint smile. “No, I’m fine. I’ll head back too, then.”
“Okay, I’ll walk you out,” Song Yuhang said, starting to walk out with her.
“No need, I asked Uncle Lin to come pick me up.” Lin Yan stopped at the entrance of the city bureau, rejecting her offer, while looking at her with a meaningful gaze.
Whenever she looked at her like that, Song Yuhang would always recall countless moments when their eyes had met.
Her own unspeakable little thoughts felt exposed before the perceptive Lin Yan, who had seen so much of the world. It made Song Yuhang turn sideways, pull a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, take one out, and light it.
“You didn’t used to smoke this much.”
Lin Yan glanced at the cigarette pack. “Yo, Zhonghua9, even. Why not smoke women’s cigarettes?”
Song Yuhang smiled, waiting for the car with her. “Too light, doesn’t perk me up. What, does Forensic Examiner Lin care if I smoke or not?”
A back-and-forth probing.
Lin Yan parried smoothly. “Occupational hazard. You can identify someone’s DNA from a cigarette butt, and DNA sequences determine a person’s aging, disease development, and time of death.”
“Isn’t there also research suggesting that DNA determines whether you’ll like someone at first sight?”
Lin Yan scoffed. “Nonsense. First-sight attraction is probably just primitive sexual impulse.”
In the distance, a car’s headlights cut through the mist. Song Yuhang stubbed out her cigarette. “Your car is here.”
Lin Yan handed back the jacket draped over her shoulders. As she was about to leave, Song Yuhang asked her one last question.
“Who is Chunan?”
At the bottom of the steps, Lin Yan’s expression shifted like a taboo subject. In just one minute, the spectrum of human joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness had completed a cycle within her.
She didn’t need to say it; Song Yuhang already knew the answer.
She took a step back, waved goodbye politely. “See you tomorrow.”
Lin Yan remained silent, got into the car. The streetlights flowed slowly past her eyes, Song Yuhang’s face gradually disappearing.
The last glimpse in the rearview mirror was of her squatting by the street corner again, lighting another cigarette.
Back home, Lin Yan, after showering and drying her hair, walked out and took another phone from a drawer in the study. She dialed a number. “Hello? Help me look someone up. Name’s Li Bin. Fourteen years ago, he was the chief forensic examiner at the Jiangcheng City Public Security Bureau.”
“In the past year in our city, a total of two thousand seven hundred fifty-two adolescents and children died by suicide. Their ages ranged from 11 to 18, predominantly female. After excluding factors like family issues, academic pressure, and teacher-student conflicts, there are still over a thousand cases where the cause of suicide could not be found.”
Song Yuhang, wearing her police uniform, stood before a large screen, speaking eloquently. “So, we used statistical data to identify commonalities in these suicide cases.”
“One, most of the deceased were introverted and not good at socializing.”
“Two, complex family backgrounds, and more or less all had experienced long-term bullying or exclusion from peers.”
“Three…” She looked up, pausing slightly. “All left suicide notes at the scene.”
A murmur went through the crowd below. Zhang Jinhai lifted his teacup for a sip, his brow furrowed into a deep crease10.
“Four, no witnesses at the time of suicide, and no biological evidence left at the scene other than the deceased’s.”
If the first two points were personality analyses based on big data statistics, the latter two indeed raised serious questions.
However, Song Yuhang continued.
“Five, when reviewing these case files, the most frequent words appearing were ‘Ocean,’ ‘White Whale,’ and ‘Liberation.’ The repetition rate was almost as high as seventy-five percent.”
Song Yuhang clicked the presentation remote, enlarging the chart on the screen, showing a line graph spiking sharply upwards in red.
This was something Zheng Chengrui had stayed up all night creating. The two exchanged glances; Song Yuhang gave him a slight nod of thanks.
“Additionally, it’s worth noting that during the investigation of the ‘He Miao’ case, related drawings were found in her notebook. Identical images also appeared in the current case.”
Song Yuhang pressed the button on her laser pointer, and two almost identical drawings appeared on the large screen.
“Whether it’s a coincidence or not, such high frequency, high suicide rates, and cases predominantly involving adolescents truly warrant our attention.”
Someone below raised their hand. “Captain Song, you surely don’t mean to say that one person committed all these cases? That’s impossible. Current criminal investigation techniques can ensure that anyone present at a crime scene will absolutely leave tiny clues11. If there really was someone capable of killing so many people without a trace, the police wouldn’t be unable to find them.”
Lin Yan propped her chin on her hand and let out a soft scoff. “Ever heard of psychological suggestion? You don’t need to be present at the scene to kill someone invisibly12.”
A murmur spread through the room again. The officer who had just asked the question was momentarily speechless. Lin Yan continued, “Psychologist Pavlov believed: Suggestion is the simplest, most typical conditioned reflex in humans. In our daily lives, we are constantly receiving suggestions from the outside world or ourselves. From flyers handed out on the street, to seeing your own pale face in the mirror in the morning and quietly wondering if you didn’t sleep well last night—the subsequent series of conjectures about whether you might be sick are all forms of psychological suggestion.”
“Psychological suggestion varies in strength, and its effectiveness cannot be controlled by willpower. For example, some people go to the hospital because they look unwell, get diagnosed with cancer, the suggestion succeeds, all hope turns to ash13, and they pass away. Others remain positive, exercise, stay active, and are perfectly fine14.”
“In principle, this effect cannot be controlled by human consciousness. But what if someone artificially creates a certain situation?”
Song Yuhang watched her, dressed in the same police uniform, standing among the crowd and speaking eloquently, radiating confidence, and an involuntary smile touched her lips.
“For instance, if a teacher tells you your test score this time was terrible, worse than the last, won’t you start wondering if you’re really that stupid? Over time, even if you aren’t stupid, your subconscious will believe you aren’t smart enough, not outstanding enough. This is deep-level psychological suggestion; we call it psychological induction.”
Having spoken at such length, Lin Yan’s mouth was dry. She picked up the water cup from the table and gulped down a large mouthful, wiping her lips.
“When I was abroad, I handled a death investigation like this. The perpetrator was a psychologist who incited murder, instructing his patient, step by step, starting from the basics like staring into a mirror without blinking until a sense of unfamiliarity emerged, all the way to animal abuse and arson. Step by step, he cultivated a normal person into a psychopathic killer who personally killed his own wife.”
“We must take this case seriously. Otherwise, if this continues, more and more people will die. And who knows if the next victim won’t be one of your children?”
Lin Yan’s words were decisive. Though her voice was soft, it landed with weight15, like a stone dropped into a calm lake. The crowd stirred, erupting into a buzz like an exploding pot16.
Duan Cheng rubbed the goosebumps17 on his arm. “This… th-th-this… What Forensic Examiner Lin said gives me the creeps. Can we even trust what people say anymore?”
Fang Xin shot him a look. “You? You’re an old slicker18. Afraid of what others say? Like a dead pig isn’t afraid of boiling water19, completely unreceptive20.”
Zheng Chengrui couldn’t help but chuckle. Seeing the meeting room door being pushed open, he immediately straightened up. “Sit properly, sit properly, Chief Feng is here.”
On the stage, Song Yuhang waited for Lin Yan to sit down. Lin Yan was completely engrossed in the case, utterly unaware that Chief Feng was already standing at the door, and continued.
“Furthermore, we didn’t just compile data on suicide cases from the past year. Here is the statistical data from the past five years. Everyone, please take a look.”
Song Yuhang pointed with the laser pointer. “It shows a significant upward trend in columnar form, and the intervals between cases are getting shorter and shorter. From several dozen incidents total per year, to several per month, all related to this symbol. We have reason to believe that behind this vast number of adolescent suicides, there is one or more clandestine organizations operating. Their motives are currently unknown, but adolescents are the future of our country. Any criminal force harming adolescents must be nipped in the bud.”
Just as her voice fell, applause came from the doorway. “Well said!”
Everyone stood up quickly. “Chief Feng, Chief Feng…”
Feng Jianguo waved his hand, signaling them to sit down. He walked to the front of the stage. Song Yuhang put down her laser pointer and stepped back.
“I now announce that, with approval from higher authorities, the ‘9.27 Fan Lin case’ and the ‘6.1 He Miao case’ will be reopened for investigation. A Special Task Force is hereby established. Song Yuhang will serve as the Task Force Leader, and Zhang Jinhai as the Deputy Task Force Leader. All departments of the Jiangcheng City Public Security Bureau are to fully cooperate with the Special Task Force to solve the case.”
Feng Jianguo called out two names loudly. “Song Yuhang, Zhang Jinhai!”
“Present!” The two stood up simultaneously, hands pressed straight against their trouser seams.
“The deadline given by superiors to solve the case is only one month. If you can’t solve it, you’ll answer with your heads21. Do you have confidence?!”
“Yes, sir! We guarantee mission completion!” Song Yuhang raised her hand to her temple, her eyes filled with the unwavering determination she always possessed.
After the meeting dispersed, it was lunchtime.
Someone who never ate in the cafeteria carried her tray and slowly shuffled over to Song Yuhang’s side, plopping down and squeezing Duan Cheng out of his seat.
“Hey— Lin-jie, I was here first—”
Lin Yan smiled through gritted teeth. “I. Am. Sitting. Here.”
“Didn’t you say you don’t eat in the cafeteria?” Duan Cheng asked, puzzled, already being pulled away by Fang Xin.
“Let’s go, let’s go, we’ll sit over there.”
“Why? I just got this spot.”
Fang Xin: “Old Zheng bought big chicken legs and is waiting for us…”
Before she finished speaking, Duan Cheng had already grabbed her sleeve. “Okay, okay, let’s go. Where is he sitting?”
Song Yuhang acted as if she saw nothing happening. Until a fragrant scent wafted beside her, she shifted slightly away.
“Joining the Special Task Force is out of the question. It’s standard procedure that technical investigation22 doesn’t go to the front lines. Stay put obediently at the city bureau.”
Song Yuhang’s single sentence blocked all her escape routes. Lin Yan gritted her teeth and picked up the braised pork from her bowl, placing it into Song Yuhang’s.
“Captain Song, bending the rules a little won’t hurt, right?”
Song Yuhang watched her piling braised pork into her bowl as if it cost nothing and her life depended on it, feeling extremely distressed.
“Enough, I don’t eat it! I really don’t eat fatty meat!!!”
Lin Yan’s movement froze. She then picked up a piece of duck frame with her chopsticks and gave it to her. “Then have some duck frame, have some duck frame. It’s all lean.”
Looking at the bowl piled high like a small mountain before her, Song Yuhang despaired, shifting sideways. “I won’t eat it. I really won’t.”
Lin Yan pushed her tray and slid over too. “Come on, eat. I got all this for you.”
She blinked, revealing an expression of pure harmlessness.
I’d have to be crazy to believe you.
If she hadn’t witnessed Lin Yan’s ruthless side, she might have fallen for it.
She couldn’t fight her, but couldn’t she dodge?
Song Yuhang picked up her tray and shifted further inward. Lin Yan pressed forward step by step.
Half the cafeteria turned to watch them.
Duan Cheng, a half-chewed noodle dangling from his mouth, slurped it in. “What… what’s going on here?”
Zheng Chengrui adjusted his glasses, offering a summary. “Cat and mouse.”
Fang Xin added the next line: “Doomed to fail.”
“What about the horizontal scroll23?”
Lin Yan slammed her chopsticks down, shouting at the cafeteria crowd, “Mind your own food!”
The three immediately lowered their heads.
Song Yuhang was squeezed against the wall, reaching the end of her patience. Especially since Lin Yan, when wearing her uniform, mostly wore just the standard-issue shirt underneath, and didn’t button it properly, revealing a hint of graceful scenery.
That softness brushed against her arm.
She almost unavoidably recalled the sensation from several instances of skin-to-skin contact, feeling ashamed yet simultaneously savoring the memory, causing her ears to flush slightly red. She lowered her voice, roaring at her, “Move over!”
Lin Yan clung to her arm relentlessly, immobilizing her right hand. “No. If you don’t let me join the Special Task Force, I’ll stick to you every single day.”
She deliberately emphasized the words “every single day.”
Song Yuhang felt her scalp tingle. In such a public place, she couldn’t possibly resort to violence against her. Suppressing her anger, she said, “Let go first, then we’ll talk.”
Lin Yan sensed her anger and knew there was a chance24. With a hint of teasing, she swept her gaze over Song Yuhang.
“I won’t let go. If I let go, you’ll run away. Song Yuhang, Officer Song, Captain Song~” She deliberately dragged out the address, her voice full of affection. “Exactly what is it about me that dissatisfies you?”
Someone coughed, perhaps genuinely having a tickle in their throat, but suddenly everyone in the cafeteria seemed to have throat discomfort, and coughing sounds rose one after another.
Song Yuhang felt a vein throb in her temple. She was testing her limits.
In every sense.
They were pressed close together. Lin Yan’s perfume enveloped her. She spoke right beside her ear, red lips opening and closing before her eyes, her gaze like autumn waves, carrying a hint of ambiguous longing wanting to speak but holding back, mixed with pleading.
Lin Yan sensitively detected her avoidance, retreat, and the stiffness in her body.
She was too skilled at using others, including herself. She leaned almost half her body onto Song Yuhang, breathing softly like orchids25 beside her ear. “Officer Song, I’m begging you.”
If this were like before, the first time she had teased Song Yuhang in the archive room, her reaction had been intense, immediately flinging her hand away.
Lin Yan had even mocked her then: Unromantic26.
Now, Song Yuhang and she had a deep private relationship, understanding each other’s personalities more or less27.
Lin Yan had expected her to furiously甩 her off, then agree while cursing her out.
Song Yuhang smiled.
This was too unexpected.
Lin Yan raised an eyebrow, only to see Song Yuhang lean closer too, lowering her voice in a corner hidden from others.
“It’s possible, but I have one condition.”
Lin Yan lowered her gaze and saw Song Yuhang grab her hand, gripping it tightly, preventing her from struggling.
Lin Yan tried to pull away but couldn’t. Gritting her teeth, she asked, “What are you trying to do?”
“Weren’t you the one who offered yourself up?” Song Yuhang held her hand firmly, pulling her closer, mimicking the intimacy of close friends by wrapping an arm around her shoulder, sliding it down.
Her tone was light and soft, but her voice was somewhat low and husky.
“What do you think?”
The moment these three words left her mouth, Lin Yan wished she could slap her. Flushed red with anger and urgency, her lips trembled.
Her skin was fair, and her eyes easily reddened when agitated, giving her an appearance of feigning refusal while actually welcoming, difficult to put into words.
Song Yuhang paused. That look stirred one’s heart. Before she could savor it for long, Lin Yan threw down her chopsticks, pushed her hand away, turned, and walked off without the slightest hesitation, clearly genuinely angry.
She was the one joking, but she was also the one being serious.
Song Yuhang pressed her forehead, helpless against this difficult woman28. “Come back. I approve. You can go, but you have to stick with me and not act on your own.”
Lin Yan stopped walking but didn’t turn around, still angry, not looking at her, lips pouting high.
Song Yuhang sighed helplessly, put down her chopsticks, pulled her back, and pressed her down beside her, picking up the meat from her own bowl and giving it back to her.
“If it turns out there really is a mastermind, this person must be meticulous and extremely difficult to deal with. So, not letting you go was for your own good.”
Lin Yan gave a sarcastic smile, watching her put all the lean meat into her bowl. “I have the ability to protect myself; I don’t need your concern.”
Song Yuhang put her chopsticks down. “Fine, then you can leave. I take back what I just said.”
Lin Yan looked ready to pounce and scratch her. Gritting her teeth, she hissed, “Song Yuhang, are you ever going to stop!”
Has teasing me become addictive?!
Watching her flare up—she used to think Lin Yan was a big tiger, but now she seemed more like a small cat baring its claws.
Song Yuhang understood her personality inside out29; it was time to smooth her fur30. “I wasn’t joking with you. I really am worried about you. If you want to go, you can, but I have—”
Lin Yan stared fixedly at her. If she dared to say that phrase, she was prepared to dump the entire plate of food on her face and then curse fiercely: “Shameless!”
Song Yuhang blinked, looking somewhat innocent. “—a three-point agreement31.”
Lin Yan breathed a sigh of relief, too lazy to bother with her. “Spit it out!32”
“One, you cannot leave my line of sight.”
Lin Yan nodded lazily. “Fine, okay.”
“Two, no throwing tantrums.”
Lin Yan raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Like saying ‘I’m tired, I can’t walk anymore,’ things like that. We’re going out to investigate a case, not on vacation.”
Lin Yan ground her teeth resentfully. “You really know me well, don’t you? What about the last point?”
Song Yuhang thought for a moment. “Haven’t thought of it yet. We’ll talk about it later.”
Lin Yan wanted to say more, but Song Yuhang had already lowered her head and started shoveling rice into her mouth, using her hand to stop her words.
“Eat. We don’t have much time. You’ve already wasted fifteen minutes of mine.”
Lin Yan looked back; the cafeteria was almost empty.
She felt slightly embarrassed. “When the case is closed, I’ll treat you—”
Before she could finish, Song Yuhang picked up a piece of spicy diced chicken33 and put it in her bowl. “Try it. Although it’s not as refined as your home cooking, it’s definitely clean, hygienic, and authentic.”
Lin Yan picked it up half-believing, half-doubting and put it in her mouth.
Song Yuhang watched the word “satisfaction” emanate from every pore on her face and smiled contentedly herself.
“Is it good?”
“It’s… it’s alright.”
“Then hurry up and eat.”
“Okay.”
LP: Re-translated on April 21, 2025
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