Peerless Forensic Expert

My father served as a consultant for the Provincial Public Security Department. He was a master of an ancient autopsy technique passed down through our family, a method that could reveal the subtlest traces on a corpse using ordinary items from daily life, leaving murderers with nowhere to hide.

Over the decades, he solved more than a hundred cases, the medals he received filling an entire wall. Yet he never cared for such honors, only visiting the victims’ graves to tell them the case was closed once the culprit was caught.

At fifty, my father chose to retire. He bought a house in the suburbs to spend his later years peacefully with my mother. After retirement, apart from teaching me those marvelous forensic methods, he would often lose himself in thought, staring at a certain portrait while reclining in his chair.

My father was an open-minded man. He never stopped me when I decided to study forensic science in college or later joined the criminal investigation field. Instead, he quietly supported me. Thanks to the techniques he taught, I solved several gruesome and bloody cases and encountered all kinds of criminals.

Now, let me tell you about the very first case I encountered during my university years—the case of the Ghostly Infant at the university...

It was the start of my senior year. One day, as I was dozing off in class while my professor fiddled with human organs preserved in formalin, the door burst open. In walked a young policewoman, barely in her twenties, with a babyish face and dressed in uniform. She announced she was from t