Chapter 20

Wu Jun sighed deeply, stood up, strode to the door, shut it, and locked it in one smooth motion.

Returning, Wu Jun ignored Jiang Yuan’s expression, reached under the drawer, pulled out a small box, opened it, and revealed a red Guan Yu pendant, one finger long and half a finger wide.

Two red cords hung from the top of the pendant for wearing around the neck, but Wu Jun stretched his body and hung it directly behind the office door.

“Come and pay your respects,” Wu Jun said. “Watch what you say from now on.”

“This…,” Jiang Yuan hesitated, then said, “Is it appropriate to worship Guan Yu in the bureau?”

Wu Jun’s face remained stern. “Do you know where my Guan Yu came from?”

“Where… did it come from?”

“Eight years ago, the Hong Kong police came to Shannan Province for an exchange. One officer sold it to me—or rather, gave it to me half as a gift,” Wu Jun clasped his hands together and bowed to Guan Yu. “You know, our entire national police system learns from Hong Kong. The Shenzhen police learned the best—they had the most exchanges, the most money, and copied things most accurately. And honestly, over the years, Hong Kong’s police really have many things we can learn from.”

“Watching TV dramas, Hong Kong forensic experts seem pretty skilled too,” Jiang Yuan walked over.

Wu Jun snorted. “I don’t know about that—they didn’t send any forensic officers last time.”

“So you learned the art of worshipping Guan Gong?” Jiang Yuan glanced at the pendant—it was made of agate, and he thought it was surprisingly plain.

Wu Jun ignored him and ordered: “First spit three times, then bow. Fewer cases, we’re lighter, society’s more harmonious, right?”

Jiang Yuan spat three times, then obediently clasped his hands together and bowed.

His home had plenty of Guan Yu, Bodhisattva, Maitreya, Three Pure Ones, and crosses—some jade, some Hetian jade, some gemstones—no real rules.

After Jiang Yuan finished bowing, Wu Jun checked the sky, exhaled, placed the pendant back in the box, returned it to the drawer, reopened the office door, and said to Jiang Yuan: “Learning knowledge—we can’t be bound by textbook knowledge, right?”

Jiang Yuan: “Right, right, right.”

Wu Jun glanced at his phone, satisfied: “See? No calls came in. That proves our bowing worked.”

Jiang Yuan nodded in agreement and quietly opened the novel *The Great Physician Ling Ran*.

That evening, Team Leader Huang Qiang called Jiang Yuan: the gang theft case had progressed—the suspect in prison had confessed to multiple accomplices.

Over the next two days, all updates concerned the gang theft case.

The suspects arrested by the Criminal Investigation Team had their fingerprints re-taken and matched against those left at the crime scenes, confirming more and more cases.

In criminal cases, “a hundred precautions, one oversight” is extremely common.

Modern people know fingerprints can trace them, and wherever there are people, there might be cameras—but when actually committing a crime, those who consistently notice how to hide themselves remain a tiny minority.

Wearing gloves during the crime is easy, but before and after, they can’t guarantee they won’t touch anything at the scene. Some suspects, after finishing the crime, suddenly remember they left something behind—or accidentally brushed against a doorknob…

Carelessness, minor mistakes—ordinary people make them constantly, not just in daily life and work, but also throughout a criminal’s offenses and even their entire criminal career.

Combined with multiple witness statements and modified vehicles as physical evidence, it’s extremely difficult for several people to escape part of their guilt.

During this phase, Jiang Yuan only assisted with rechecking and matching tasks.

Fingerprints previously hard to match now had real people to compare against, making matching effortless. The gang’s young members had now left deep marks in the official system—future crimes wouldn’t risk going unmatched!

After a week, as Jiang Yuan began considering how to spend the weekend, Wu Jun’s phone vibrated rhythmically.

Wu Jun glanced at it, his expression changed instantly, and he answered: “Captain Huang.”

In a few sentences, Wu Jun ended the call and spoke clearly: “Homicide. Three minutes to prepare. Bring my inspection kit. Take the trace evidence vehicle to the crime scene.”

“Yes,” Jiang Yuan replied, his heart pounding.

Wu Jun’s face was grim. After organizing his gear, he reached into the drawer, touched the Guan Yu box, sighed, and said to Jiang Yuan: “See? Bowing once at least holds off a week—but in the end, you can’t escape it.”

…

Wu Jun and Jiang Yuan rode in an Iveco-modified crime scene investigation vehicle, rushing to the scene as fast as possible.

Crime scene vehicles are mandatory equipment at the county level—no matter how poor, they must be bought. Wealthier bureaus buy professional, larger vehicles; poorer ones modify used ones and make do.

Inside, all equipment was pre-stocked: various inspection kits, evidence bags, tapes, powders, labels, and more. A space was also reserved for storing the body, saving technicians considerable setup time.

Jiang Yuan felt slightly nervous and excited.

He had completed five full years of forensic medicine at medical university—lectures, review, projects, thesis—all done—but he’d only seen one corpse at a real crime scene. Returning to a scene, to say he wasn’t excited was false.

At a red-brick villa in the suburbs, officers already on-site had secured the perimeter. Several police cars were parked haphazardly below; some officers scattered, questioning neighbors who watched or strolled in the courtyard.

Jiang Yuan showed his credentials, picked up his kit, and followed Wu Jun quickly up to the third floor.

The crime room was less than ten meters from the stairs; surrounding it, residents still milled about, watching.

Jiang Yuan, who had just gained Crime Scene Investigation (LV4) two days ago, stared at the scene and unconsciously frowned.

As a rookie, Jiang Yuan had no right to speak. He showed his credentials again, lowered his head, and entered the room.

Rooms from thirty or forty years ago were generally small—about forty square meters. The living room had indirect light; a larger bedroom had bright light, but inside, several officers and a corpse lay sprawled, making the space feel cramped.

Fortunately, the fresh corpse’s odor was tolerable, so the room’s environment remained acceptable.

“Put on your gear,” Wu Jun said sternly, gesturing for Jiang Yuan to open the inspection kit.

Jiang Yuan donned mask, gloves, cap, and goggles, then stood beside Wu Jun, observing the corpse.

The victim wore only briefs, naked on the bed, stabbed through the chest, with massive blood loss. Jiang Yuan looked down—blood had soaked the dirty carpet; nearby, the crime scene technician stood on a stool, struggling to photograph from above.

Crime scene photography is a specialized field. Before digital cameras became common, officers using professional cameras had to capture extremely rich information with minimal film rolls—years of practice were needed to master it.

Specifically, complete crime scene photography requires: overall scene photos, wide-angle photos, center photos, close-up photos, and techniques like opposite-angle shooting, cross shooting, and segmented shooting.

But after film disappeared, this role in small areas was quickly absorbed by crime scene technicians. When needed, detectives, forensic doctors, and traffic police could all do it.

Still, basic standards remained, especially for major cases—officers still tried to follow protocols. For corpse photography, it must be taken vertically, not casually from the side like ordinary photos.

After photography finished, Jiang Yuan followed his master Wu Jun to conduct the body surface examination.

Forensic medicine requires accumulated experience—even after five years at medical university, Jiang Yuan still had to learn step by step from Wu Jun.

Wu Jun took several photos, especially of items around the body, then turned to Jiang Yuan: “Do you recognize this corpse?”

“I…” Jiang Yuan nearly choked, glanced once, and said: “How could I possibly know everyone?”

“You’re a native of Ningtai County—maybe you know a classmate or friend,” Wu Jun waited as Jiang Yuan studied the body, then sighed regretfully: “If you don’t recognize him, we start from scratch. You record.”

“Male corpse, body length 170 cm… skin pale… hair black, scalp intact…” Wu Jun spoke as he checked Jiang Yuan’s notes, nodding frequently.

Jiang Yuan’s notes were highly standardized, even more detailed—he noted the corpse’s position and posture at the start, and under “skin pale,” added: “no jaundice.”

From Wu Jun’s perspective, Jiang Yuan now seemed more like a colleague than a student.

Jiang Yuan himself felt increasingly confident as he wrote.

His newly acquired skill “Crime Scene Investigation (LV4)” was far broader and deeper than he imagined—it included not just standard crime scene examination, but also forensic and trace evidence examinations.

And within forensic examination, body surface inspection was included.

Thus, “Crime Scene Investigation (LV4)” proved immensely useful.

Jiang Yuan suppressed his inner thoughts and carefully completed the body surface inspection with Wu Jun. Then, they began examining and collecting DNA evidence.

DNA evidence refers to physical items potentially containing DNA—common examples: bloodstains, semen stains, saliva stains, or isolated droplets of blood.

Jiang Yuan first circled the corpse, collecting hair and skin flakes. Though likely the victim’s own, only testing could confirm.

Trace evidence around the corpse is generally considered more reliable, so it requires extra careful inspection. Wu Jun was older; though not yet blind, his sensitivity to small, fine evidence had slightly diminished.

Jiang Yuan was the opposite—he quickly collected multiple items, several of which Wu Jun hadn’t even clearly seen.

Seeing this, Wu Jun straightened his back, taking a brief rest. Bending over at chest height beside the bed was agony for his aging spine.

Jiang Yuan, a recent graduate, was young and energetic, and with his new skill, felt no fatigue. After clearing all evidence around the corpse, he began collecting blood samples.

He first chose a clump of blood on the victim’s thigh, dabbed it with a cotton swab, but didn’t immediately place it in an evidence bag. Instead, he took a filter paper, wrapped the swab, then folded it into a triangle.

Just this single motion made the crime scene technician and Wu Jun stare.

Others easily understood: a blood-soaked swab placed directly in an evidence bag risks contamination and leakage, causing secondary contamination—biological evidence cannot be stored in plastic bags to prevent decay. Also, over time, blood in the swab dries, hindering verification and reuse.

But wrapping it in filter paper changes everything: blood seeping from the swab is instantly absorbed, and filter paper’s high absorbency prevents leakage. In the lab, only a small piece of the paper is needed for DNA testing—the rest remains well-preserved.

Understanding this was easy—but for crime scene techs who routinely dumped multiple cigarette butts into one bag, no one had ever told them this method existed.

“Where did you find this apprentice?” the crime scene technician asked Wu Jun in surprise.

Wu Jun calmly stretched his waist and replied slowly: “Some procedures—I just never bothered to do them myself.”