“You’ve determined Song Meimei’s cause of death?” Shi Ting walked over.

Yan Qing nodded, pointing to a crescent-shaped pattern of abrasions on Song Meimei’s neck. “Look — these abrasions are symmetrical on both sides. Combined with the cyanosis of Song Meimei’s face and the bluish discoloration of her lips, we can preliminarily determine that she was strangled with both hands, resulting in asphyxiation. Of course, an accurate conclusion will require an autopsy.”

Yan Qing also examined Song Meimei’s four limbs and chest, where there were abrasions and subcutaneous bruising of varying degrees.

“Song Meimei was conscious when she was being strangled. These marks were left during her struggle to resist.”

“There are no signs of forced entry on the doors or windows,” Bai Jin interjected. “The killer was likely someone she knew.”

“Song Meimei was wearing her sleeping garment and was in her bedroom — for a single woman, it would have to be someone very familiar to her,” Yan Qing agreed.

“This father and daughter pair — did they coordinate this somehow?” Bai Jin scratched his head. “One after the other, both murdered. Song Zixian’s social network hasn’t been fully mapped yet, and now we’re adding Song Meimei’s.”

“Nothing to be done — that’s the nature of this work,” Yan Qing said with a smile.

Bai Jin looked at her with some curiosity. “Miss Yan, I’ve always wondered — our job is to solve cases and maintain the peace and security of Shun Cheng. No matter how hard or exhausting, we bear it. But you’re a daughter of a distinguished family. The security of Shun Cheng doesn’t really concern you. What drives you to be so diligent and dedicated?”

What drives her? Yan Qing seemed never to have thought about this question — not even in her previous life.

From the moment she put on the uniform and pinned on the badge, it seemed as though a mission had settled wordlessly onto her shoulders.

Thinking about it now — to protect the peace of a region, to render justice to the dead: this was her work, and more than that, her faith. To say it was in service to the nation might be too grand a claim, but at its core, it came down to four words: no guilt to bear.

She glanced instinctively in Shi Ting’s direction. He was examining the door handle, his gaze focused and intent.

In this life, by a twist of fate, she had met Shi Ting. Though her identity had changed, those four words were as deeply rooted as ever — they had never changed.

“Bai Jin, come here.” Shi Ting beckoned.

Bai Jin forgot all about waiting for Yan Qing’s answer and ran over.

“Collect a sample of this.” Shi Ting said. “See what this substance is.”

There was a barely noticeable black mark on the door handle, with a faint oily sheen on it.

Bai Jin sniffed it. “Looks like lubricating oil.”

“I just checked — Song Meimei’s hands had no lubricating oil on them. This was most likely left by the killer.” Shi Ting said. “The suspect owns a bicycle — that’s the most likely scenario. Cars have fuel tanks, so oil doesn’t usually end up on one’s hands. But if a bicycle chain slips, the rider has to fix it by hand and inevitably gets oil on them. Start the investigation from this angle.”

Back at the Military Police Division, Yan Qing noticed that Shi Ting’s complexion was slightly pale. His eyes were shot through with red, and the dark shadows beneath them spoke plainly of his exhaustion.

“Shi Ting.” She stopped him. “How many days has it been since you’ve properly rested?”

“No sleep last night.” Shi Ting rubbed his temples. “Spent the whole night going through Song Zixian’s records.”

Yan Qing’s expression darkened. “You’re not a machine. Do you really think you’re made of iron?”

“Machine? What’s that?”

“Never mind what a machine is — go back to your office right now and sleep. When the autopsy results are ready, I’ll come and wake you.”

“I still need to—”

“I’m not negotiating with you.” Yan Qing’s tone was firm. “If you don’t listen, don’t ever think about asking me to help again.”

“Miss Yan, are you threatening me?” Shi Ting gave a helpless look.

“Is the threat working?”

He leaned down beside her, his fresh breath drifting past her ear. “Of course it is.”

Under Yan Qing’s threat, Shi Ting dutifully went back to his office to rest. He had been pushing himself relentlessly lately — if he didn’t sleep soon, he would exceed his limits.

He was so exhausted that the moment he lay down on the sofa, his breathing had already steadied and he had drifted into sleep.

Yan Qing gently pulled the blanket up higher, then left at ease.

Without E’Yuan in the autopsy room, Yan Qing had to manage on her own.

Looking at Song Meimei lying on the autopsy table, she couldn’t help but sigh. This table — her father had only just lain upon it, and now it was the daughter’s turn. Truly, the world offers no certainties.

Yan Qing put on her mask, picked up the scalpel, and made a clean vertical incision from behind each ear down to the upper edge of the collarbone, then cut forward to meet at the sternum.

This method is known in forensic medicine as the Y-incision, the most appropriate technique for examining strangulation of the neck.

Yan Qing worked with focused precision, the scalpel gradually separating the subcutaneous tissue and muscle of the neck. In both the left and right sides of Song Meimei’s neck, corresponding crescent-shaped subcutaneous hemorrhaging was found beneath the skin on either side.

Time passed minute by minute. When the clock hands pointed to four in the afternoon, Yan Qing tied the last stitch and moved her stiff neck.

She washed her hands, changed her clothes, and picked up the autopsy report to write it out.

The report was finished by five o’clock. She tucked it into a document folder, then wheeled herself to Shi Ting’s office.

The office door was closed. Knowing he was inside, she didn’t knock. When she pushed the door open, she found that in addition to Shi Ting, there was someone else in the room.

Shi Ting appeared to have been woken up and was seated on the sofa, the blanket still half-draped over him. Standing before him was a woman in a white lace dress and a matching lace hat, the brim tilted at an angle and covering half of her forehead.

Yan Qing froze for a moment in the doorway, unsure whether to go in or not.

Shi Ting saw her, and the dissatisfaction on his face vanished instantly. “What are you standing there for — come in.”

“Am I interrupting?” Yan Qing asked carefully.

Shi Ting rose from the sofa, set the blanket aside, and without acknowledging the woman standing in front of him, walked straight to Yan Qing.

He took the report from her hands. “All done?”

“Yes.”

Shi Ting wheeled her over to the office desk and personally poured her a cup of hot water from the thermos on the side. “Rest for a bit.”

Yan Qing glanced at Han Xiling, who was still standing in front of the sofa.

Han Xiling completely ignored Yan Qing’s presence and continued to press Shi Ting relentlessly. “When can I return to the Military Police Division?”

“I’ve already said — there’s no need for you to return to the Military Police Division,” Shi Ting said with evident impatience.

“My coming here was approved by the Marshal himself.” Han Xiling was unyielding. “Are you defying the Marshal’s wishes?”

Shi Ting looked up, his gaze cold. “Have him personally write a letter and affix his seal. Then I might consider it.”

It was common knowledge that the Marshal was currently bedridden and could only manage the most pressing affairs of state from his sickroom. At a time like this, no one would be foolish enough to disturb him over something so trivial. Han Xiling had simply been trying to use the Marshal’s name to pressure Shi Ting — but unfortunately, Shi Ting would not take the bait.

Han Xiling’s tone immediately softened. “Treat it as me begging you — let me come back to the Military Police Division.”

“This place doesn’t need you.”

“Director Shi, do you really have to be so heartless?” Being rejected in front of Yan Qing, Han Xiling lost considerable face.

“Miss Han, please leave.” Shi Ting issued the order without ceremony. “Unless she has a case to report, I hope not to see Miss Han at the Military Police Division again.”

Han Xiling grew agitated. “Shi Xingzhi, can’t you see — I like you.”

“…” Yan Qing thought to herself — had she just heard something extraordinary?

Shi Ting glanced at Yan Qing with some anxiety, his brow unconsciously tightening. “Do I need to have you escorted out?”

“Your mother came to our house again yesterday. The two of them talked as happily as old friends, just waiting for the Marshal to recover so they can propose our marriage to him.”

Shi Ting picked up the desk phone and said calmly, “Someone come and escort Miss Han out.”

Very shortly, two officers pushed the door open.

“Miss Han, this way please.”

“Miss Han, please don’t make things difficult for us.”

Han Xiling knew that Shi Ting’s patience had reached its limit. Pressing further now would not end well for her.

Han Xiling gave a cold sniff. As she left, she cast a meaningful glance at Yan Qing.

Yan Qing was baffled by the look and raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t listen to her nonsense.” Shi Ting went around the wheelchair and crouched in front of her, afraid she might be upset. He took her hands firmly in his.

“What she said may not be false.”

“Trust me — no one can dictate my choices, including my mother.” His eyes were clear and resolute. “You made me a promise.”

“I trust you.” Yan Qing smiled. “Was it her who woke you just now?”

“I thought it was you.” Shi Ting said. “I almost made a mistake.”

“A mistake?”

Shi Ting gave a mischievous smile and leaned forward to take her into his arms. “Like this.”

Yan Qing was suddenly pulled into his embrace and immediately tensed up, going completely rigid. “Shi Ting, let go of me.”

People came and went here — what if someone saw?

“This is my office. No one would dare enter without knocking…”

Before the words had even finished, Bai Jin shoved the door open. “Seventh Brother, I found something—”

When he saw the scene inside, he froze for a moment, then quickly pulled the door shut. From outside came his raised voice: “Wrong room.”

Yan Qing burst out laughing.

Director Shi, did that sting a little?

Shi Ting released her and lightly flicked the tip of her nose. “I’ll deal with him later.”

“Going to silence him?”

“That’s a possibility.”

He opened the autopsy report. “What did you find?”

“The greater cornu of the deceased’s hyoid bone was fractured and hemorrhaged, and the thyroid cartilage was fractured. Judging by the degree of compression, the killer is an adult male of considerable physical strength. Additionally, I extracted an oily black substance from the skin of the deceased’s neck — preliminarily identified as lubricating oil of some kind. It has been sent for testing.”

“Do you think Song Zixian could have been killed by Song Meimei?”

Yan Qing shook her head. “I wouldn’t dare speculate rashly. But looking at the current development of the case, Song Meimei is strongly suspected — she had both the opportunity and the motive. Yet I keep feeling this case can’t be so simple. If Song Meimei killed Song Zixian, then who killed Song Meimei? An accomplice? A falling out over the spoils?”

“We found this in Song Meimei’s home.” Shi Ting produced an evidence bag.