Your specialty is kicking down doors, not performing autopsies.
Inside the forensic autopsy room, under the cold white light, Fan Jinci was bending over to examine the throat incision of the third corpse. Li Weimian stood to the side, her fingers rapidly swiping across the tablet, bringing up comparative images of wounds from the previous two cases.
"The cut angle is off by 0.5 degrees, but the depth is exactly the same." She pointed to the screen. "The killer wasn't imitating; he was calibrating—he was trying to find the most precise way to replicate it."
Fan Jinci nodded slightly, the tip of his scalpel gently parting the deceased's trachea: "He was comparing the effects of different blades. This time he used a surgical-grade scalpel, but his grip was incorrect."
Li Weimian suddenly leaned closer, her fingertips hovering about two centimeters above the corpse: "Look at this tiny scratch—the murderer adjusted the angle of his wrist at the last moment, it's like…"
"—It's like a left-handed person temporarily switching to their right hand," Fan Jinci interjected, his grey-blue eyes slightly narrowed. "He's studying."
The two exchanged a glance, and a silent, professional understanding flowed between them.
Then the door was violently kicked open.
Yu Yan strode in and stepped between the two: "The forensic department has found that the fibers under the deceased's fingernails match the curtains in the old Jiang's Pharmaceutical factory."
Li Weimian raised an eyebrow: "We are discussing—"
"The discussion is over." Yu Yan grabbed the autopsy report. "Fan Jinci, come with me to the scene."
Fan Jinci didn't move. He twirled the scalpel between his fingers, the tip of the blade slightly raised, a subtle warning gesture.
"I'm working." His voice was calm, but the temperature in the dissection room seemed to drop ten degrees.
Yu Yan's jaw tightened: "This case is far too dangerous; you can't act alone."
"So you're here to teach me anatomy?" Fan Jinci looked up. "Captain, your specialty is kicking down doors, not performing autopsies."
Li Weimian suddenly burst out laughing.
Yu Yan suddenly turned to her: "What are you laughing at?"
"It's nothing," Li Weimian shrugged. "I just suddenly understand why Dr. Fan wrote in his thesis that 'excessive intervention by law enforcement can contaminate the chain of evidence'—it turns out there's a real-world reference to that."
The scalpel slammed into the tray with a clang.
"Get out." Fan Jinci's voice was as cold as ice. "Both of you."
"Get out, all of you."
For the next three days, Fan Jinci completely ignored all of Yu Yan's messages and phone calls, and submitted the autopsy report directly to the director. Even the trace evidence department received instructions that "the captain of the criminal investigation team must submit a written application before he can access the data."
Yu Yan paced irritably in his office: "Who the hell does he think he is? An independent kingdom?!"
Jiang Zhaoyan, munching on an apple, said, "Brother Fan has always been like this, haven't you always put up with it?"
"That's different!" Yu Yan slammed his fist on the wall. "Now there's Li Weimian, who's eyeing him covetously!"
Wen Lin peeked out quietly: "Speaking of which... I just found out that Consultant Li is..."
"Female bronze".
The entire room fell silent.
Jiang Zhaoyan: "...You're only just finding out?"
Situ Jin adjusted his glasses: "There's a photo of her and her ex-girlfriend on her desk."
Wen Lin was struck dumb: "But she looks exactly like my ideal type!"
Yu Yan sneered, "Serves you right."
Wen Lin slammed her fist on the table in grief and indignation: "I want to apply for a transfer to the Women's Federation!!!"
Late at night, in the archives.
Li Weimian was flipping through the remaining documents of the "Butterfly Project" from twenty years ago when her fingertips stopped on a yellowed group photo—a girl wearing glasses stood next to the young Zhou Lin, who was none other than herself when she was young.
The door was suddenly pushed open, and Jiang Zhaoyan leaned against the doorframe: "I knew you'd investigate this."
Li Weimian closed the file: "You were following me?"
"No, I'm investigating you." Jiang Zhaoyan waved his phone. "Your mother was the chief psychologist for 'Project Butterfly' back then. She died in an experimental accident—the official record says suicide, but you've never believed it, have you?"
Li Weimian's eyes suddenly turned cold.
"Don't be nervous." Jiang Zhaoyan approached, his voice low. "I'm also investigating how Jiang's Pharmaceuticals is covering this up. Want to cooperate?"
After a long silence, Li Weimian took out a photo from her wallet and pushed it over—in the picture, young Fan Jinci was strapped to an experimental chair with electrodes attached to his wrists, while a blurry figure in the background was raising a syringe.
"Zhou Lin is not the mastermind," she said softly. "The person who truly orchestrated 'Operation Butterfly' is still in a high position."
[The collapse of Wenwen’s worldview]
The next morning, Wen Lin cornered Li Weimian: "I heard you like girls?"
Li Weimian: "Mm."
Wen Lin (undeterred): "Is it possible... you also like men?"
Li Weimian (smiling): "Like how you might like wearing women's clothing?"
Wen Lin (breaking down): "This is different!!!"
Li Weimian patted him on the shoulder: "Accept reality, straight man."
In the distance, Situ Jin silently captured the moment Wen Lin knelt and shouted, then sent the caption to the entire group chat:
[Prosecutor Wen announces coming out as gay]
Three minutes later, the disciplinary committee called to inquire about "the issue of civil servant image management."
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