inspector
The lights in the forensic center are always a cold white, like the reflection on a scalpel.
3:17 a.m.
The only sounds in the autopsy room were the soft clinking of instruments. Fan Jinci lowered his eyelashes, his scalpel precisely cutting open the cadaver's chest cavity, the blade tracing the edges of the ribs without the slightest tremor.
"The cause of death was poisoning, but the injection site was unusual." His voice was cold, as if stating trivial experimental data. "The killer used medical nanoneedles; the needle holes are almost invisible."
Yu Yan leaned against the dissection table, but his gaze wasn't on the corpse. He stared at Fan Jinci's profile—under the light, his gray-blue eyes were focused and calm, his eyelashes casting a small shadow beneath them, and the lines from his nose to his lips were as perfect and hard as an ice sculpture.
"Brother Fan," Yu Yan suddenly spoke, his voice low, "you haven't slept for three days."
The scalpel paused slightly.
Fan Jinci didn't even look up: "Call the forensic doctor."
"The entire criminal investigation team calls you Brother Fan." Yu Yan smirked, deliberately moving closer. "Even your little assistant, Situ Jin, calls you 'Dr. Fan' so formally; it's too distant."
"That's because they're stupid." Fan Jinci put down his scalpel, took off his gloves, and said, "There were trace amounts of fiber under the fingernails of the corpses; send them to the trace evidence department."
Yu Yan didn't take it; instead, he grabbed Yu Yan's wrist. Beneath the black leather strap, the edge of the butterfly scar was faintly visible.
"Let go." Fan Jinci's voice instantly turned icy.
"Your wrist is shaking." Yu Yan narrowed his eyes. "Even the chief forensic pathologist would die from lack of sleep for 72 hours."
Just as the two were facing off, the door to the autopsy room was pushed open.
"Did I disturb you?"
A clear male voice broke the silence. A young man, a stranger, stood in the doorway, dressed in a crisp prosecutor's uniform. He had gentle features, and faint lines appeared at the corners of his eyes when he smiled.
"Municipal Procuratorate, Wen Lin." He showed his badge, his gaze lingering for a second on their clasped wrists. "I'm in charge of supervising this serial poisoning case."
Taking the opportunity, Fan Jinci withdrew his hand and took a step back expressionlessly.
Yu Yan felt inexplicably irritated. He sized up the prosecutor who had suddenly appeared—Wen Lin. The name sounded familiar; he seemed to be a model figure in the political and legal system last year, having solved several major cases and enjoying an excellent reputation.
"The prosecution intervened so early?" Yu Yan asked in an unfriendly tone.
Wen Lin wasn't annoyed; instead, he smiled and said, "This case is special. Two of the deceased are public officials, and we've been instructed to close it as soon as possible." He turned to Fan Jinci, his eyes sincere, "I've long admired your reputation, Forensic Doctor Fan. I hope we can work together smoothly."
He reached out his hand.
Fan Jinci didn't move.
The air in the dissection room seemed to freeze for a few seconds.
Wen Lin's hand hovered in mid-air, but he showed no embarrassment; instead, his smile deepened: "It seems the rumors are true; Forensic Doctor Fan indeed dislikes physical contact."
"Knowing it, you still reached out. Are prosecutors really that clueless?" Yu Yan sneered.
Wen Lin withdrew his hand and took a document from his briefcase: "These are the points where the two deceased people's travel itineraries intersected before their deaths; they might be helpful for the autopsy."
The document was delivered to Fan Jinci, but Yu Yan intercepted it midway.
"I will pass it on," he said curtly.
Wen Lin raised an eyebrow, glanced at Fan Jinci, then at Yu Yan, and suddenly smiled knowingly: "I see."
"What? I see?" Yu Yan squinted.
"It's nothing," Wen Lin calmly straightened his cuffs. "I just didn't expect the atmosphere in the criminal investigation team to be... so intimate."
Yu Yan's face darkened.
Fan Jinci had already turned and walked towards the sink, the sound of running water dissipating the gunpowder smell in the room. He washed his hands meticulously, rinsing every part—between his fingers, nails, wrists—repeatedly, as if the touch just now was some unbearable contamination.
Wen Lin gazed at the slender figure's retreating back, then suddenly asked softly, "Forensic Doctor Fan, what are your thoughts on the 'perfect crime'?"
The sound of flowing water stopped.
Fan Jinci took out a tissue and slowly dried his fingers: "There is no such thing as a perfect crime, only forensic doctors who are not meticulous enough."
Wen Lin laughed: "Indeed. And this case? The killer used nanoneedles, chose an odorless substance, and even specifically targeted public officials to create political impact—in your opinion, where are the flaws?"
"He's being too deliberate." Fan Jinci raised his eyes, his gray-blue eyes cold and clear. "Serial killers usually have fixed preferences, but this murderer is imitating multiple methods. It's not caution, it's guilt."
A hint of admiration flashed in Wen Lin's eyes.
Yu Yan suddenly stepped between the two, abruptly cutting off their eye contact: "Brother Fan, the forensic department is urging us to provide samples."
The term was pronounced with extreme emphasis, as if asserting sovereignty.
Fan Jinci frowned, but didn't correct him. He handed the evidence bag to Yu Yan, then turned to tidy up the equipment, clearly indicating that he wanted to see the guest out.
Wen Lin tactfully took his leave, but before leaving, he left a business card, which he gently pressed on the corner of the dissection table.
"Keep in touch." His gaze was pointed. "Whether it's about the case, or... anything else."
After the door closed, Yu Yan grabbed the business card and was about to tear it up.
"Put it down." Fan Jinci didn't even look up. "That's evidence."
"Evidence?" Yu Yan laughed angrily. "He clearly—"
"Get out," Fan Jinci interrupted him. "I need to continue the autopsy."
Yu Yan gritted his teeth, then slammed the door and left.
The dissection room returned to silence.
Fan Jinci stood alone under the cold, white light for a long time before finally letting out a soft breath. He unbuttoned his cufflinks, glanced at the scar on his wrist, and then picked up Wen Lin's business card—on the back, a line of small print was written in pencil:
Be careful of those around you. The killer is inside the police station.
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