The layout of this compartment was nearly identical to Yan Qing’s own: a bunk measuring roughly 1.7 meters in length and half a meter in width, a long bench, and a wooden table in between.

The space was narrow, so both the bench and one end of the bunk were pressed up against the window.

A metal curtain rod ran above the window. The white cloth curtain had been gathered to one side and, with the window open, swayed back and forth in the breeze.

Against the bench stood a wicker traveling trunk, roughly twenty-five inches in size. It had been opened for inspection and contained little more than a woman’s clothing and a few small personal effects.

The long table in the compartment had been pressed into service as an examination surface. The female corpse, dressed in a bright red qipao, lay flat on top of it. Whatever beauty she might have possessed in life, she could not have wished for anyone to see her face now.

Death by strangulation was a prolonged process. The woman’s fingernails had turned a dusky blue; her face was swollen and purple, bloated like a steamed bun that had overproofed. Beyond that, the body had been dragged at high speed along the exterior of the train — her feet and the lower half of her legs had been reduced to a bloody ruin, with white bone exposed.

At the woman’s neck was a pale brown mark. The red gauze scarf that had been wound around it had been removed and set aside. Because the scarf was made of soft fabric, the ligature groove was shallow and wide, with slight superficial abrasion around the edges — at first glance, it looked very much as though the deceased had wrapped the scarf around her own neck and thrown herself from the window to hang. But a forensic examiner could never rely on first impressions alone.

For instance… Yan Qing narrowed her eyes. She seemed to have noticed something interesting.

Beside the body, a young man in plain clothes was conducting his examination. Yan Qing had seen this forensic examiner once before — he had appeared at the scene of Cui Nong’s drowning alongside Bai Jin.

“Director Shi, you described this as a suspected case. What are your grounds?” Yan Qing wheeled herself toward the makeshift examination table.

Shi Ting was crouched on the floor, conducting a second examination of every item at the scene. He had gone over the scarf used to hang the victim multiple times. Beyond a few bloodstains, it appeared to hold nothing unusual. The trunk had been searched inside and out just as thoroughly — whether anything new had been found remained to be seen.

In response to Yan Qing’s question, Shi Ting said, “The qipao the deceased is wearing is hand-embroidered cotton-wool fabric using the Su embroidery technique currently in fashion. The single leather shoe remaining on her foot is calfskin — sold at only two upscale tailor shops in Shun Cheng. All of this indicates she was a woman of comfortable means.”

He gestured at the victim’s handbag and luggage. “If she was well-off, why is there no gold or silver jewelry on her person, and nothing of value among her belongings?”

“Because she was not alone at this scene.” Yan Qing affirmed his reasoning. “Someone else was here — or rather, was traveling with her.”

What impressed her, however, was that Shi Ting knew the Su embroidery technique and could identify the calfskin shoe as a seasonal item without hesitation. The breadth of this man’s knowledge was remarkable.

“Even if a second person was present, it’s possible someone found her already hanged and took advantage of the situation to steal her valuables.” The forensic examiner, who had been bent over the body, raised his head. His gaze passed through round spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose.

“This is E Yuan, courtesy name Liangping, forensic examiner attached to the Military Police Division.” Shi Ting made the introduction. “This is the Sixth Miss of the Yan Family.”

E Yuan gave a brief nod in acknowledgment, adjusted his glasses, and returned his attention to the body — clearly uninterested in this young lady of means.

Not merely uninterested: he was also thoroughly puzzled as to why his director had brought an uninvolved outsider into the crime scene at all.

Yan Qing paid no mind to E Yuan’s indifference.

Forensic work was thankless in any era — grueling and poorly compensated, with death as one’s constant companion. In Xin Guo, the number of people willing to take up forensic work could be counted on one hand. Society viewed them askance, and many forensic examiners lived alone, unable to find a wife. To choose that path, in short, was to give up a great deal.

Though E Yuan’s skills were still developing, the courage it took to shoulder that burden was enough to inspire genuine respect. People needed time and experience to grow, after all.

“There are no open external wounds on the body. The ligature groove and signs of asphyxiation are both clear. It appears she genuinely did jump from the window and hang herself.” E Yuan’s young face carried a self-assurance beyond his years — likely the product of his education and upbringing abroad.

Bai Jin rubbed his chin. “So it really was suicide? And someone came upon the scene afterward and helped themselves to her belongings.”

“That’s not right.”

Two voices spoke in near-perfect unison.

When the words faded, Yan Qing and Shi Ting looked at each other.

Between Shi Ting’s long fingers were two thin train tickets — no one had noticed when he had found them.

“Found in the lining of the trunk, along with a bank deposit slip.” Shi Ting slid the tickets and the slip into a paper evidence envelope. “The deposit slip will allow us to identify the deceased. As for the tickets — they prove that she was not traveling alone. There were two of them. And look at what she is wearing: head to toe in red, with no festival or occasion to account for it. What sort of person dresses like that?”

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