Chapter 22: Xue Ming

Huang Qiang, who was coordinating the overall scene, immediately walked over upon hearing Jiang Yuan’s words and asked, “What do you mean?”

“Based on its appearance, it’s a strand of female pubic hair,” Jiang Yuan said, using tweezers to lift the hair, examining it under the light, then placing it into an evidence bag.

The victim was male; the sudden appearance of a female pubic hair was clearly a crucial clue and piece of evidence.

Director Guan Xi walked over and asked, “You said ‘based on appearance’—can you really determine it just from appearance?”

“Female pubic hair is generally shorter and coarser. Compared to the victim’s, it’s still relatively easy to distinguish,” Jiang Yuan offered a brief explanation.

The director gave a strange smile, cleared his throat twice: “There’s some logic to that…”

A young technician beside them, still eager to learn, chimed in: “Armpit hair and beards are curly too.”

Lao Yan, who was fingerprinting, let out a snort of laughter, looked at the young technician, and said solemnly, “Little Yang, you’ve got a lot to learn.”

Everyone in the room wore knowing smiles.

Little Yang’s face flushed. He muttered, “Judging by experience isn’t reliable—you need science.”

The director readily agreed, curiously asking Jiang Yuan, “Tell us, what’s the scientific basis?”

“It’s more elastic. Armpit hair has an elliptical cross-section, beard hair has a triangular cross-section and is harder…” Jiang Yuan replied offhand.

Little Yang froze in place: “Someone actually studied this?”

The director smiled approvingly, then turned to the squad leader Huang Qiang: “Send the evidence to the lab ASAP. The chain of custody must be solid.”

Huang Qiang nodded immediately—he’d been worried about the evidence too.

For police, biological evidence has always been among the highest-tier physical evidence. DNA and fingerprints, in particular, are highly specific and widely accepted; in court, physical evidence with DNA support carries even greater weight.

Today’s judicial authorities are all required to prioritize physical evidence over confessions, which indirectly elevates the importance of DNA evidence.

Jiang Yuan handed out the evidence bag and returned to his work.

The director and others lingered a while longer, then stepped outside to speak in low voices.

The crime scene technicians, trace evidence officers, and forensic pathologists gradually exited the scene.

After sunset.

Jiang Yuan and another young officer lifted the body onto an Iveco and transported it back to the funeral parlor.

Wu Jun rode along in the vehicle.

The funeral parlor at night was chillingly eerie.

The dark, tall pine trees, imposing by day, at night evoked all sorts of unsettling associations…

The old gatekeeper rubbed his eyes and opened the door, grinning wickedly as he pointed: “Don’t go left—too many ghosts there.”

The young officer beside him shuddered and asked, “What’s the reasoning behind that?”

The gatekeeper mumbled, “Don’t believe me? Then go left. I don’t care.”

“Take the right,” Wu Jun said seriously.

The young officer released the brake and turned the steering wheel right, yet still muttered, “He’s the one opening the door at night—he’s just scaring us because he’s annoyed.”

“Maybe,” Wu Jun replied.

“Any other possibility?”

Wu Jun thought a moment, then said, “Maybe it’s Buddha’s protection?”

The young officer stared blankly for a long time before realizing Wu Jun was making a pun—he fell silent.

The three of them worked together, reaching the autopsy room as quickly as possible.

When the bright white light flickered on, the stainless-steel autopsy table gleamed silver—and strangely, it felt reassuring.

Wu Jun and Jiang Yuan busied themselves preparing for the autopsy.

In big cities, in busy districts, autopsies might even require scheduling. But in Ningtai County, private autopsies were virtually nonexistent, and homicide or unnatural death cases were rare—having one body was enough to get proper work done.

As for staying up late—faced with a sudden homicide, everyone was on edge; they weren’t the only ones burning the midnight oil.

Similar to the last autopsy, after the victim’s brother-in-law signed the paperwork, Wu Jun still let Jiang Yuan perform the procedure.

He wanted Jiang Yuan to practice, of course—but also because the crime scene investigation had left his back so stiff he could barely stand.

Watching Jiang Yuan pick up the scalpel, Wu Jun said, “As forensic pathologists, we cut corpses—we go big and bold. Don’t hold back. Make your cuts wide.”

Jiang Yuan nodded, then bent low to examine the body.

When the body was at the scene, though gradually cooling, it still felt vaguely warm.

Now, on the cold stainless-steel table, the body’s humanity vanished entirely.

Jiang Yuan felt a faint unease.

This was his second corpse since starting work—and a completely unknown one. Recalling it, he found Uncle Seventeen’s body had felt more familiar.

Jiang Yuan gripped the scalpel and made a single, continuous cut from the neck to the pubic symphysis.

The exposed flesh showed red, white, and yellow tones—and his emotions instantly eased.

The victim’s brother-in-law, there as a witness, couldn’t bear it—he glanced once and his expression twisted.

The young officer who’d been energetic while carrying the body now kept his head down, frowning, refusing to look closely.

Wu Jun handed the brother-in-law a trash bin, to prevent him from vomiting, and said, “These days, people eat constantly but never exercise—high body fat means more adipose tissue…”

His tone carried a hint of apology; the brother-in-law’s face twisted further.

Wu Jun shook his head, returned to the table, and said to Jiang Yuan across the corpse: “I’m not good at comforting people. If we had a female pathologist, it’d be better.”

“Would a female pathologist be gentler?” Jiang Yuan asked. During school, half his classmates were women, but when job hunting, most chose to take civil service exams or apply to forensic identification institutions; the rest often prioritized forensic positions in prosecutor’s offices.

Wu Jun looked at the incision, helping Jiang Yuan lift the tissue slightly, and said, “She’d definitely talk better. But she wouldn’t be much use carrying bodies.”

Jiang Yuan didn’t reply, slicing along the ribs, then lifting the sternum and beginning to cut methodically along its dorsal side.

Unlike doctors’ cautious movements, forensic pathologists worked with fewer, larger, more forceful motions—until the quiet autopsy room filled with the steady swish of cutting flesh.

The victim’s brother-in-law didn’t dare lift his head—he wanted to cover his ears.

“If you can’t handle it, go wait outside,” Wu Jun said. He wouldn’t force anyone to watch, and he hated the smell of family members vomiting.

The brother-in-law shifted his feet twice, then froze: “There’s no one outside… I… I’m too scared…”

“Make your own choice,” Wu Jun replied, his focus entirely on Jiang Yuan.

He assisted Jiang Yuan with seamless coordination.

“One incision into the thoracic cavity. Scratches on the ribs—must’ve been a forceful stab,” Jiang Yuan said, opening the chest and observing the interior while making his assessment.

Wu Jun nodded in agreement: “One fatal blow. Slightly off-center, and it might’ve hit a rib…”

Jiang Yuan confirmed the fatal wound. After Wu Jun took photos, he flipped back the pectoral muscles to locate the other skin wound and took more photos.

Wu Jun then handed Jiang Yuan a soup spoon: “Scoop out the blood in the thoracic cavity. Weigh it.”

Jiang Yuan took a plain ceramic soup spoon and slowly scooped the pooled blood into a stainless-steel basin.

When nearly drained, he placed the basin on an electronic scale. The scale wasn’t specialized—it was just an ordinary one Wu Jun had bought at the market. The entire process, ignoring the corpse, was perfectly ordinary to any civilian.

“About 850 milliliters,” Jiang Yuan said, making his judgment, then turned to Wu Jun: “Plus the blood left at the scene—how much was there?”

“At least that much,” Wu Jun said from experience.

Jiang Yuan said, “So total around 1,700 milliliters—enough to cause death. So the cause of death is sharp instrument piercing the aorta, leading to massive hemorrhage?”

“Mm,” Wu Jun said. After Jiang Yuan finished examining the thoracic cavity, he pointed to the lividity on the body: “Estimate time of death?”

“About eight to ten hours? So death occurred around four or five in the afternoon?” Jiang Yuan pressed the lividity—it faded slightly but returned, indicating it had reached the second stage of diffusion. Combined with body temperature, he gave his estimate.

Estimating time of death could be easy or hard. For today’s body, in a room at normal temperature with a short postmortem interval, multiple methods made it straightforward. But if the time of death were longer or the environment more complex, it became a true science.

The accompanying officer, a young man from the Second Squad, quickly messaged his squad leader upon hearing Wu Jun.

“Be clear about the cause of death,” Wu Jun reminded, then said to Jiang Yuan, “Continue.”

Jiang Yuan grunted and silently opened the abdominal cavity, then removed and weighed all the internal organs.

As he worked, a shiny dumpling fell from the kidney.

Jiang Yuan had encountered such a shiny dumpling once before.

Last time, he received Uncle Seventeen’s legacy: a Level 3 Special Fried Rice.

Honestly, Jiang Yuan found it highly practical. Even in his generation, when no one ran night stalls for income, occasionally cooking for oneself was still a valuable skill.

And this time…

Jiang Yuan gently touched the shiny dumpling. A system prompt flashed before his eyes:

Xue Ming’s Legacy: Camping (LV2)—This was Xue Ming’s favorite hobby and his most skilled activity. Whenever he drove to unfamiliar places, his greatest desire was to pitch a tent and brew a simple pot of tea. But most often, driving was his job, and he could only imagine the comfort of camping in his mind. After transferring posts, his opportunities for camping only decreased further. Xue Ming’s top skills, in order: igniting fire with various tools, judging wind direction with various tools, stopping bleeding with sanitary pads, obtaining water with various tools, erecting tents with various tools…

Jiang Yuan smoothed the abdominal cavity with his hand, as a gesture of gratitude.

Turning, he began opening the cranial cavity.

Theoretically, forensic pathologists could skip full-body autopsies for cases with clear causes of death. Today’s body, for instance—cause of death was clearly a sharp instrument rupturing the aorta, leading to hemorrhage. After opening the thoracic cavity, perhaps just the abdominal cavity needed examination.

But Jiang Yuan was still a novice pathologist—he followed protocols strictly.

Wu Jun wanted him to gain more experience, even if it meant staying longer.

After opening the cranial cavity, they confirmed no intracranial hemorrhage or skull base injury—no need to slice the brain like foie gras.

Even so, the process took considerable time. When they emerged from the autopsy room, dawn had broken.

Hastily stepping over a firepot, several squads reported back—no progress.

Even the unusual hair Jiang Yuan found showed no matches.

The atmosphere within the Criminal Investigation Unit tightened sharply.