The wounds on the victim’s chest were a cluster of similarly sized contusions. Each wound opening was an irregular triangle, with the skin inside the wound margins curled back in flaps. She counted them — there were no fewer than twenty-four such wounds in all.

“E’Yuan, can you tell what kind of weapon caused these?”

E’Yuan shook his head. “I’ve been puzzling over that myself.”

“Did the first two victims have similar wounds?”

“Yes.”

Yan Qing’s brow furrowed in deep thought, a great tangle of questions knotting in her mind.

“Let’s begin the examination,” Yan Qing said, picking up the scalpel. “Establish the cause of death first.”

Shi Ting stood to one side. Noticing that her complexion looked a little pale, he asked with concern, “Are you feeling unwell?”

“I’m fine.” Yan Qing looked at him. “I had a bit of a headache this morning. I’ve already taken medicine.”

“If you’re not feeling well, don’t push yourself.”

“I know.”

Shi Ting’s concern warmed something in Yan Qing’s chest.

Her threshold for being moved had always been very low. A word of comfort when she was lost, a word of care when she was unwell — just something to tell her that there was still someone in this world who noticed her, who cared about her.

E’Yuan had already completed the shaving of the head — for every medical examiner was also an accomplished barber.

Once the blood was wiped from the victim’s face, she was a woman of fairly delicate features, and appeared to be quite young.

With E’Yuan present, Yan Qing did not need to perform the skull-opening herself. In this era, there were no electric cranial saws — the skull had to be opened bit by bit with a crude hand saw, a task that required considerable physical effort and invariably left the examiner drenched in sweat by the end.

Yan Qing often thought: since she had been brought to this era, she ought to create meaning in her being here. She wanted to do everything in her power to advance the forensic techniques of this age and improve the working conditions of its medical examiners. A person, after all, cannot live their life for nothing.

While E’Yuan was opening the skull, Yan Qing removed the victim’s pubic symphysis and placed it in the pressure cooker.

Assessing the wear of the pubic symphysis was the most accurate method for determining age — the drawback being that the process was painstaking and time-consuming. The pubic symphysis refers to the joint formed at the front midline of the pelvis where the left and right hip bones meet.

Women in modern times who speak of the pelvis opening during childbirth are, in essence, referring to the pubic symphysis. In the late stages of pregnancy, the pubic symphysis joint and its ligaments loosen, and sometimes even separate spontaneously, allowing the pelvis to expand.

When Yan Qing first entered this field, boiling the pubic symphysis was the task she dreaded most. The first time she did it, she couldn’t bring herself to eat meat for an entire month.

But with time, she had long since reached the point where she could calmly discuss the condition of a pubic symphysis while gnawing on a drumstick.

“Master, it’s done.”

Yan Qing moved to the head of the body, picked up the magnifying glass to examine carefully, then took out a ruler to measure.

“The deceased has a subgaleal hematoma on the right parietal and temporal regions. The scalp surrounding the wound shows a subcutaneous hemorrhage measuring 7 centimeters in length and 2 centimeters in width. There is a linear fracture of the right temporal bone extending toward the frontal, parietal, and skull base regions, with an epidural hematoma. There is also a depressed fracture of the posterior occiput.” Yan Qing stated, “There is no question — the cause of death is severe cranial injury.”

E’Yuan recorded this in rapid strokes.

“E’Yuan, I’d like you to determine how many times the victim’s head was struck.”

E’Yuan examined the skull carefully. “Three times. Once on the crown, twice on the occiput.”

Yan Qing nodded. “Now tell me — in what order were those three blows delivered?”

Even the order of strikes could be determined?

Shi Ting, watching from the side without a word, found the question forming in his mind.

“I can’t tell,” E’Yuan said, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t the order of the killer’s blows be random?”

“The order may have been random from the killer’s perspective, but each blow necessarily happened in a sequence.” Yan Qing pointed to the separated calvarium. “When a blow fractures the skull, fracture lines radiate outward from the point of impact. The fracture lines from the earliest blow follow an unobstructed course — like this one.”

She pointed to another area. “The fracture lines from later blows, however, terminate where they meet earlier fracture lines — because the transfer of force is interrupted and cannot cross an existing fracture line.”

Seeing that E’Yuan still looked only half-convinced, Yan Qing took a sheet of paper and sketched a quick diagram. “Does this make it clearer?”

“It does.” E’Yuan’s expression cleared with understanding. “It’s like a river — a tributary can only flow into the main river, not cut across it.”

“Then tell me — of these three strikes, which came first, which second, which last?”

E’Yuan studied the skull carefully before reaching his conclusion. “The blow to the crown came first. The blow to the left occiput came second. And the third blow almost overlapped with the second.”

Yan Qing smiled. “Correct.”

“But what’s the purpose of determining the order of the blows?” E’Yuan was puzzled.

“You’ll understand in a moment.”

Yan Qing measured the wounds on the victim’s chest and murmured, “No vital reaction — these wounds were all inflicted postmortem.”

“So the killer struck the victim’s head to cause death, and then — after she fell — inflicted all these wounds on her chest. What would be the reason for that?”

Shi Ting ventured, “Could it be revenge?”

Yan Qing shook her head. “Revenge seems unlikely. If it were me, I would inflict these wounds while she was still alive. The dead can no longer feel pain — doing it afterward would serve no purpose whatsoever.”

“Can you identify the weapon?”

“I’d need to examine the other two bodies before I can give you a definitive answer.”

“I’ve already completed the examinations on those two bodies.” E’Yuan quickly retrieved the autopsy reports. “Master, the reports are right here.”

Yan Qing opened them and went through them carefully. Her eyes brightened. “The first two victims both showed subcutaneous hemorrhaging on the scalp measuring 7 centimeters in length and 2 centimeters in width.”

“Doesn’t the hemorrhage pattern reflect the shape of the weapon?”

“When a blunt object of smaller dimensions strikes the head, it leaves the shape of the instrument in the subgaleal tissue — the hemorrhage pattern mirrors the form of the weapon.” Yan Qing closed the report, her eyes sharp and clear. “My assessment: one of the weapons used is a blunt iron implement approximately 7 centimeters long and 2 centimeters wide, easily swung; the second weapon is sharply pointed with a hooked barb — which is why there are flaps of turned skin within the wound margins.”

Shi Ting said, “The killer carried two different weapons?”

“Two possibilities: either the killer carried two separate weapons, or a single implement with one end shaped like a hammer and the other end sharpened to a barbed point.”

“What kind of tool would that be?” E’Yuan wrinkled his brow. “Truly unlike anything I’ve heard of.”

Shi Ting’s mind worked rapidly through the possibilities, but he too shook his head. “I feel as though I may have seen something like it, but the impression is vague — I can’t quite place it.”

Whatever it was, this implement was highly distinctive and likely associated with a specialized trade. If the riddle of the weapon could be solved, it might just lead them to the killer.

Yan Qing said, “Looking at all three bodies together, the killer is right-handed, with a height somewhere between 171 and 173 centimeters.”

E’Yuan asked, “How did you arrive at that?”

“Let’s start with where on each of the three victims the blows landed. The first victim — a dancer, 171 centimeters tall — was struck on the head three times, concentrated on the occiput, with a linear fracture of the lower occipital bone and an epidural hematoma. The other two victims — a bank clerk, 150 centimeters, and a textile worker, 152 centimeters — were each struck three times: once on the crown of the head and twice on the occiput. Is that correct?”

E’Yuan nodded.

“The dancer stood 171 centimeters. The killer approached from behind and attacked by surprise. Given their close heights, the natural motion would bring the weapon down directly onto the occiput — the back of the head. The other two victims stood at around 150 centimeters; the killer was clearly taller, so the blows landed on the crown instead. In all three cases, the wounds were closely spaced and concentrated — indicating the victims were in a fixed position when struck, meaning the killer’s very first blow sent them to the ground. They didn’t even have time to turn around.”

Yan Qing continued: “After all three fell, the killer followed up with two more blows — which accounts for the occipital trauma in each case. The dancer received her first strike to the occiput; the other two received their first blow to the crown. This tells us the killer’s height was comparable to the dancer’s — roughly 171 to 173 centimeters — and that the killer possesses exceptional strength, enough to bring a fully grown adult down with a single blow.”

She looked at E’Yuan. “You asked earlier why I needed to determine the order of the strikes. Do you understand now?”

“I do.” E’Yuan made no effort to hide the admiration in his eyes. “It all makes sense.”

Yan Qing said, “Additionally, no trace of seminal fluid was found in the pelvic region of any of the victims. None of the deceased were subjected to any form of sexual violence. This is a killing, not an assault.”

At that moment, someone knocked at the door. An officer stepped in and stood at attention. “Director, there is a young woman by the surname of Han outside asking for you.”

“Han?” Shi Ting frowned. “Who is she?”

“We don’t know either. She specifically asked for you by name. We questioned her repeatedly, but she wouldn’t say another word.”

“Understood.” Shi Ting said, “I’ll be out in a moment.”

Yan Qing was by now staring at the wounds on the victim’s chest, murmuring quietly to herself, “Why did the killer inflict these wounds? What was the purpose?”

“Carry on — I’ll come find you when the meeting starts.” Shi Ting said, “Leave the rest to E’Yuan. Rest a little.”

“Go on, then.”

Shi Ting caught E’Yuan’s eye. E’Yuan immediately understood what his director meant: take care of the Sixth Miss — don’t let her overexert herself.

In the main hall of the Military Police Department, a young woman stood waiting. She wore a fitted black leather jacket and slim-cut trousers, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her brows were long and delicate, her eyes luminous and expressive, and her skin — fair as jade — glowed with an added softness against the dark fabric, carrying a certain allure.

From her entire bearing radiated a cold aloofness that said keep your distance, her chin held high with a pride that seemed to regard everything around her as beneath notice.

“Who is that woman?” one of the officers whispered curiously.

“No idea. She walked in demanding to see our Director. She doesn’t look like she’s here to report a crime — she probably knows him somehow.”

“With that haughty air, she’s probably some young miss from a noble family.”

“Could be — maybe she’s our Director’s fiancée or something.”

“Don’t say that — what about the Sixth Miss? I’m on the Sixth Miss’s side.”

To all the whispered speculation around her, the young woman seemed entirely oblivious. Her beautiful eyes were fixed on the corridor ahead, her entire attention bent on the moment Shi Ting would appear.

—