“The Military Police Bureau’s forensic room doesn’t have the capacity to store thirteen bodies at once. After the autopsy reports were issued, a distant relative of the Chen family claimed the bodies and they were buried.”

Although Xin Guo had an electrical grid, it was far from well-developed, and cold storage technology was vastly behind what the modern era had achieved. Most bodies were disposed of or buried directly following the autopsy.

“What a pity.” Yan Qing let out a quiet sigh. “If the bodies were available to examine, perhaps there would be other leads to find.”

“Miss Yan has already provided a new direction for the investigation. It may well become the key to our case.” As he said this, Shi Ting extended his right hand. “Thank you.”

His palm was dry and warm; taking it in a handshake gave the sensation of something very solid and dependable. Yan Qing smiled. “Not at all.”

“Allow me to see Miss Yan home.”

“There’s no need to trouble yourself — there are people waiting outside for me.”

Shi Ting made no further attempt to insist. But as she turned her wheelchair to leave, he suddenly spoke: “May I ask — where did Miss Yan learn all of this?”

The hand resting on the wheel paused for a moment before she answered lightly: “I’m a student at the nursing academy. I enjoy reading books my father brings back from overseas, and I’ve developed a certain interest in the field of forensics.”

Seeing that Shi Ting gave no response, Yan Qing didn’t press the matter. She turned the wheelchair and rolled out through the small gate on her own.

She knew an explanation like that would never convince a sharp mind like Shi Ting’s. But she and Shi Ting were unlikely to have further dealings, so what did it matter to her whether he believed it or not?

Only once Yan Qing had left did the figure concealed in the shadows step forward and address him deferentially: “Seventh Brother.”

Shi Ting withdrew his gaze from the distance, his expression taking on a note of deliberate interest. “Look into this Yan Family miss. The more detail, the better.”

~~

The day after returning from the Chen estate, Jing Zhi came home having picked up some news from somewhere, saying that the people from the Military Police Bureau were going door to door searching throughout the city — most likely still investigating the Chen family massacre.

Jing Zhi had no idea about the small exchange between Yan Qing and Shi Ting that night. She assumed her own young miss had long since forgotten a figure like Director Shi — after all, Miss had always presented herself as quiet and withdrawn, giving the impression of being uninterested in everything.

In certain ways, Yan Qing’s temperament did bear some resemblance to that of the Sixth Miss whose body she now occupied. Both, for instance, favored solitude. When she was not attending a scene or performing an autopsy, a book and a cup of coffee were all it took for her to sit in silence for an entire day without saying a word.

It was only in the presence of a body that Yan Qing became a different person entirely — as though possessed of inexhaustible energy and an endless stream of things to say.

Yan Qing turned a page of the book in her hands. The crisp, thin pages had yellowed faintly with age. She had found it among the patriarch’s collection — an old academic text on acupuncture.

Though she was a forensic examiner, she had always known more than an ordinary physician. Doctors still specialized in particular fields, but forensic examiners did not — a competent forensic examiner had to be well-versed in everything, so as to find traces of evidence on the most unusual and varied of bodies.

She had studied acupuncture before, but only at a surface level. Now that she had the time and the energy, she had made up her mind to delve deeper into the subject.

After all, she had no wish to spend the rest of her days dragging these legs behind her — to be called a “useless cripple” by others. If Chinese medicine had failed and Western medicine had offered no solutions, why not attempt a combination of both? Something unexpected might just yield an unexpected result.

“Miss,” Jing Zhi said, dusting off a vase with a feather duster, “do you think the case will ever be solved?”