Chapter 253: I Want Them Back at Eighteen

Squeeze in?

Ma Jian looked at Yu Dazhang's build.

Who could possibly squeeze past you?

At the same time, he could tell that Yu Dazhang was trying to leave some private space for Xia Bin.

Once he thought of Xia Bin's specialty, Ma Jian understood.

Painting does indeed require a quiet environment, especially forensic sketching—you have to draw and think at the same time.

"See if you need anything else?" Yu Dazhang pointed at the painting tools prepared in the room and asked.

Xia Bin checked them over once and nodded with satisfaction:

"These will do. So tell me, what do you want me to draw?"

When Yu Dazhang had previously sent him to observe the suspect's physical changes, he already felt this fatty was quick-witted and unconventional in his methods.

It hadn't been long, and the fatty seemed to have come up with yet another new idea.

Xia Bin couldn't help being curious now, wanting to see what new tricks Yu Dazhang could come up with.

"I heard your forensic sketch artists can restore distorted images?" Yu Dazhang asked back.

"Of course." Xia Bin nodded and replied:

"That's the most basic kind, and it's one type of forensic sketching."

"Then…" Yu Dazhang considered his wording and asked again:

"Can you take the people in a photo and make them young again?"

"What do you mean?" Xia Bin looked at him, somewhat puzzled.

Mainly, the idiom "return old to young" left Xia Bin a bit confused.

His instinct was to think he was being asked to draw a grandpa as a Calabash Boy.

After all these years in the profession, having done countless forensic sketches, he had never heard such a request, so he had to confirm clearly.

"I heard before that your sketch artists can age a person from age three."

Yu Dazhang spoke as he flipped open the case file, took out a photo from inside, and handed it to Xia Bin:

"Since you can age someone, making a person younger shouldn't be a problem either. That's my request."

Xia Bin glanced at the person in the photo—it was Li Yong.

And it was clear the photo had been taken recently; Li Yong's expression was still that somewhat dull, foolish look.

Yu Dazhang then took out eight more photos from the case file and handed them all to Xia Bin:

"I want them to look the way they did at eighteen. Can you do it?"

He had previously tried to find photos of these victims from their school days, but hadn't found a single one.

It was as if those nine people had a tacit understanding—not a single photo from their student days had survived.

You have to remember, in the late nineties, digital cameras were still a rarity in the country, let alone taking photos with a phone.

Back then, photography still mainly used film cameras, so what survived were paper prints.

Although the method was a bit old, it was also the easiest to preserve.

Nine people, and not a single photo from their younger days—is that reasonable?

Yu Dazhang had thought of finding these victims' classmates; if their families kept graduation photos, he could see what the victims looked like when young.

But the workload was just too great.

Finding a classmate from sixteen years ago was difficult in itself, let alone being unable to confirm whether the other party actually had a graduation photo.

"No problem."

Xia Bin flipped through the photos in his hand, and in no time had looked through all nine:

"But it'll take some time. One day probably won't be enough—at least two days."

Nine people, two days was already very fast… Yu Dazhang was very satisfied with this work progress.

"How high can the similarity get?" he asked.

Forensic sketching is different from a photograph—there will inevitably be some deviation.

If the portrait reaches over fifty percent similarity with the suspect, it can be used as a useful lead.

Naturally, Yu Dazhang hoped the higher the similarity the better.

Hearing this, Xia Bin didn't answer directly, but picked up a photo and studied it carefully.

After a moment, he said:

"I can't claim a hundred percent restoration, but I can guarantee at least eighty percent similarity."

"That high?!" Yu Dazhang asked in surprise, then looked at him with some disbelief.

Using sketching to restore a person to age eighteen—the difficulty was imaginable.

Yu Dazhang had thought sixty percent similarity would be good; he hadn't expected eighty percent. And from Xia Bin's tone, he seemed to still be giving a conservative estimate.

At this point, someone is bound to be wondering.

Since you have photos, why not just restore them on a computer with software?

For example, Photoshop to remove wrinkles, or beauty apps like Time Camera.

How to put it—there's a word for it: distortion.

Those apps can indeed make a person look younger, but the similarity is way too low.

You have to admit beauty filters are powerful, but they can only be used for entertainment.

Those who don't quite get it can go search up "Princess Qiao Biluo."

The moment the filter dropped, the top tipper nearly lost his mind and immediately deleted his account and ran.

Criminal investigation work can't afford jokes like that—if a blunder happens and an innocent person is wronged, that would be terrible.

"I said eighty percent because saying ninety percent might make you doubt it."

!

Xia Bin casually pulled out a photo and pointed to the portrait on it.

"A person's two eyes and nose form an inverted triangle; no matter how the face changes, this inverted triangle remains unchanged."

"Even with plastic surgery, people avoid altering this triangular area—if the inverted triangle is changed, the face collapses."

"So whether drawing an old person from a child's face or rejuvenating someone, this triangular area is the foundation."

"Restoring a person's pre-surgery appearance also relies on reconstructing the shape of this inverted triangle."

Only with logic and evidence can you persuade.

Yu Dazhang now fully believed.

Even Ma Jian and Ye Zhiyu showed expressions of disbelief.

Both unconsciously raised their hands and touched above their nasal bridges.

"Prepare some more bread, cookies, boiled eggs, and mineral water."

Xia Bin said while organizing his drawing board.

"I won't go out these two days. Don't come disturb me."

This request must not only be fulfilled but also ensure a variety of items and ample supply.

Yu Dazhang immediately took Ma Jian and Ye Zhiyu to the supermarket for a major shopping spree.

Besides what Xia Bin requested, they also bought fruit, sausages, and vacuum-sealed cooked foods.

Ye Zhiyu specifically picked up several cartons of milk and bags of potato chips.

All were ready-to-eat.

They didn't even choose instant noodles, which require boiling water.

When the three returned to the hotel room with the food, Xia Bin had already begun drawing.

He sat on a chair holding a sketch tablet, outlining the contours of a photo.

Yu Dazhang and the others didn't disturb him; they placed the food beside the bed and quietly left the room.

Then they went to the front desk to request a triple room, were refused, so Yu Dazhang gritted his teeth and booked another single room.

Investigating outside is already hard enough; there's no need to sacrifice comfort to save money, and Yu Dazhang wasn't the stingy type.

Back in the room.

"Brother Ma, tell me what information you gathered today."

"Alright," Ma Jian replied, paused, then continued after a few seconds:

"The wrongfully accused man recalled an incident from sixteen years ago."

"The victim of the finger-cutting case that framed him had once been publicly beaten by him—single-handedly, no retaliation."

"Later, he was beaten up by a group sent by the victim."

"According to his memory, there were at least ten people, and the leader was a short man."

Ten people, short man… Yu Dazhang immediately caught the key point.

This matched exactly what Ye Zhiyu had uncovered under hypnosis.

Ma Jian had gotten this out without hypnosis.

Yu Dazhang thought again and realized where the problem lay.

Liu Jinsong had observed that small group back then as a bystander, so his memory wasn't vivid.

But the wrongfully accused man Ma Jian questioned was the direct victim.

Being beaten by a crowd—you can't forget it.

(End of Chapter)