Chapter 154: The Lightbulb

The funeral home at night.

A cool breeze blew, thick with yin energy.

At this moment, hiding in the funeral home's grove, one felt a chilling cold without needing air conditioning.

Along both sides of the road stood tall, endless pine trees, thick as fat pigs, their drooping branches as thick as a child's arm, each exuding an air of "I've lived here a long time."

Jiang Yuan got out of the car and walked toward the morgue, feeling a chill run down his spine.

This was his first time going to the morgue alone.

With no living soul beside him, not even a corpse, he felt a hollow emptiness and a faint tension.

Thump.

Jiang Yuan knocked on the autopsy room door.

The burly man inside helping move bodies let out a startled cry.

"It's me," Jiang Yuan called out, alerting the man inside.

"You… who are you?" The burly man regained his composure slightly, but his crotch still puckered into a tiny tent, like a little steamed bun, revealing his inner self was curled up, uneasy.

"Jiang Yuan," Jiang Yuan answered helplessly.

The autopsy room door finally opened.

"You scared the hell out of me—I thought something was knocking!" The big man patted his chest.

Jiang Yuan didn't mock him; this was already quite good—how many normal people would dare come to a funeral home at night to assist a forensic pathologist?

Even he himself had felt a jolt in his chest when he saw the pine trees.

Jiang Yuan couldn't understand why funeral homes always liked planting pine trees—or whether it was simply that so many pines had created an implicit association with funeral homes.

"Come in," Wu Jun called from inside.

The corridor light, just extinguished, flared back on instantly, startling them again.

"This light—it's voice-activated and light-sensitive—is a real nuisance. So sensitive, it keeps turning off and on." The burly man grunted, locking the door.

"At the Wanghe Building collapse site today, the voice-activated lights kept clicking on and off nonstop, blinding me." Jiang Yuan's voice trailed off.

"What's wrong?" The burly man, also a police officer, noticed the change in Jiang Yuan's tone.

Jiang Yuan said: "I just left the Wanghe Building collapse site. When I got into the elevator, the corridor lights went out one by one—and suddenly, the fire escape light became visible. That old-fashioned yellow bulb."

"What exactly do you find suspicious?" The burly man asked directly.

"If the corridor lights are so energy-saving, would the fire escape light be left on?" Jiang Yuan said, pulling out his phone and calling Officer Li Wei, whom he'd just parted from.

Li Wei answered quickly, laughing: "Jiang Yuan, did you leave something behind?"

"Brother Li, I want to ask—when we left the Wanghe Building, I remember all the corridor lights were turned off. Was the fire escape light the only one still on?"

"Hmm… probably."

"Try to recall."

"Hmm… yeah, I think there was a faint glow coming from the fire door's small window, casting a little square on the floor."

"Do you remember the color of the light?"

"Yellow. An old bulb. Why?"

"It just feels weird. Have you gotten back to the station?"

"Good." Jiang Yuan hung up.

He looked up to see Wu Jun walking over with a scalpel, his face grim and terrifying.

The burly police officer beside him also frowned deeply.

Jiang Yuan looked between the two, paused two seconds, then voiced his guess: "I think someone's in the fire escape—otherwise the light wouldn't be on."

At this point, such a deduction was perfectly natural.

Wu Jun gently swung the scalpel, speaking clearly: "Return to the crime scene?"

A killer returning to the crime scene first exposes the forensic technicians.

Because many killers return to erase evidence—and if they encounter technicians collecting evidence, their reaction is unpredictable.

Of course, there are even more twisted killers who, for psychological reasons, return to the crime scene after committing the murder.

Either way, it meant Jiang Yuan had likely been in danger.

A forensic technician absorbed in processing evidence, with his back turned, had zero defense against a rear attack.

But all this assumed one thing: that a killer truly existed.

This case had to be a homicide, not a suicide.

Otherwise, it was just a ridiculous case of paranoia.

And a single light was not enough to prove anything.

Jiang Yuan realized this, nodded, and said: "Let's examine the body first."

"Not yet. Call Chief Huang first," Wu Jun said, still holding the scalpel, his body smeared with fluids, standing at the door and gesturing for the burly officer to make the call.

Jiang Yuan hesitated: "I was just speculating—I should go back to the scene first…"

"What if you run into him again?" Wu Jun said, his tone solemn: "I'm speaking to you now as your Master. Even if you're wrong, so what? Every case analysis meeting has people guessing wrong. Has anyone ever been mocked for it?"

He paused, then added: "No amount of pride matters more than your life. We're police officers, not heroes. Hundreds of us across the team, thousands across the bureau, are working through the night on this case. Now you have a lead and don't report it—instead, you want to go back alone? Is that appropriate?"

Jiang Yuan had no reply.

Indeed, his mind was now afraid of being wrong, afraid of making a mistake.

His earlier guess had come only after he'd mentally prepared himself.

Now, only hours later, he'd proven nothing—and yet proposed a new speculation to support his previous one…

In another context, this would have drawn furious criticism.

Chief Huang Qiang's phone connected.

Wu Jun put down the scalpel, removed his gloves, and spoke through speakerphone from two meters away: "Chief Huang, it's Wu Jun. Jiang Yuan just arrived at the autopsy room—we suspect he encountered someone at the collapse site."

"Who?" Huang Qiang's voice sharpened instantly.

"Not certain yet…"

"Get to the point."

"Possibly the killer returning to the crime scene." Wu Jun spoke the words, and his tension eased.

Now the pressure shifted to Huang Qiang.

Huang Qiang paused, then reorganized his thoughts: "Explain the situation in detail."

"I'll let Jiang Yuan tell you," Wu Jun stepped aside.

Jiang Yuan had been replaying the events in his mind; now he gave a concise, clear account and stopped speaking.

Huang Qiang thought for only a moment, then said: "Are you in a safe location?"

"Safe."

"Good. Stay there. I'm sending people to search the Wanghe Building."

"I want to go," Jiang Yuan quickly said, his thoughts clear: "Don't let anyone go up the 28th-floor fire escape. I want to check for footprints first."

This was a direct application of Locard's Principle: if someone returns to a crime scene, they may destroy some evidence—but they leave new evidence behind.

Jiang Yuan had just solved a cold case using footprints, proving his skill surpassed that of ordinary footprint experts.

Huang Qiang immediately understood: "Wait—I'll send someone to pick you up."

"Alright," Jiang Yuan didn't hesitate.

Though the killer's reappearance was unlikely, and he probably wouldn't dare attack police, the detective team surely had enough manpower now.

If Jiang Yuan refused now, the greater risk would be taking the burly officer with him, leaving Master Wu Jun alone with the body.

While waiting for Huang Qiang's reinforcements, Jiang Yuan put on his gear and began the autopsy with his Master.

Not to help—just to get an early sense of the body's condition.

A high-fall corpse didn't always look horrific.

Especially one without a secondary rebound—its force was concentrated on one side, and under extreme impact, the surface skin might not show severe damage.

The real damage was internal: organs and bones.

Like deboning a chicken—you smash it first. The skin stays intact, but the bones inside shift.

This corpse was similar: the cervical spine had been driven through to the other side, yet the skin of the neck and chest remained relatively intact.

The head had absorbed massive kinetic energy; the skull was shattered into several pieces, visible only after cutting open the scalp.

Jiang Yuan recalled the glass at the scene—the victim had been clinging to the window. But had he let go voluntarily, accidentally, or been forced?

Jiang Yuan didn't know yet.

But from the body's condition, death had been swift; the victim hadn't adjusted his posture much in midair.

"By the way, are there other videos?" Jiang Yuan asked Wu Jun directly.

From what he knew, the victim had clung to the glass for one or two minutes—it couldn't have been captured in only one video.

"There are three more. Some people refused to hand over their phones, fearing they'd be confiscated. Chief Huang's team is scanning WeChat Moments and groups." Wu Jun, though in the autopsy room, was still well-informed.

"What about the family?" Jiang Yuan knew Wu Jun had met them.

"A typical rural family. Both parents were dull. When they heard their son was dead, his mother cried uncontrollably." Wu Jun shook his head: "They said the family had debts, and the victim had been paying them off."

Jiang Yuan washed his hands as he listened, then carefully examined the victim's clothing—just as Huang Qiang's team arrived.

Two burly men, each 1. meters tall, flanked Jiang Yuan and returned to the Wanghe Building.

Jiang Yuan headed straight for the 28th-floor fire escape.

When no one was around, the light was off.

Jiang Yuan said nothing, spraying footprint developer onto the floor.

This thing, in essence, is just a dust fixative; after spraying it, you can brush on powdered pigment, making everything clearly visible at a glance.

And in the fire escape, there was just a small amount of accumulated dust.