Chapter One: I Am a Forensic Pathologist

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 the Criminal Investigation Brigade and that an urgent murder case required a forensic intern immediately. No written test was needed; the assessment would be carried out on the spot.

The assessment: dissecting the corpse of a death row inmate. Ten of us lined up for the task.

I was first. As soon as I pressed the philtrum of the corpse with my fingers, the naked body suddenly shot up into a sitting position. Chaos erupted behind me—those waiting screamed and dashed out the door in terror.

I was startled, yet quickly composed myself. I understood that if a bullet missed the central nervous system, survival after a headshot was possible. My action had just confirmed this. I took out my phone, dialed emergency services, and stepped outside.

Then, the policewoman—her name was Tang Jingjing—called me into the classroom alone. She handed me a photograph and asked, “Was this person murdered or did they kill themselves?” The photo was simple: a headless corpse, one hand gripping a knife, the other holding its severed head. The face wore a perfectly natural smile.

I glanced at the photo and replied, “If this photo hasn’t been altered, then it’s a suicide.”

Tang Jingjing stared in astonishment, asking if it was because the deceased held the weapon.

“No,” I responded. “The smile is too natural to be faked. Experiments have shown that if a person takes sedatives to numb pain, then slashes quickly enough, it’s possible to decapitate oneself while still conscious.”

Tang Jingjing beckoned me with a crooked finger, smiling in disbelief. “It’s you. Come with me.”

I couldn’t help but ask why no one else was allowed to continue the interview. Tang Jingjing explained that only I met all the requirements. The first was courage—everyone else had panicked and fled when the corpse sat up, but I stayed calm. The second was meticulousness—everyone assumed the person in the photo had been murdered, but in fact, it was a suicide. The deceased was a mentally ill medical professor obsessed with proving that a person could decapitate themselves, so he experimented on himself.

Puzzled, I asked, “Why is courage and attention to detail so important this time? You didn’t require this in previous recruitments. And don’t you only hire once every six months? Why recruit again just a few weeks later?”

Tang Jingjing smiled mysteriously. “You'll understand soon enough.”

On the way, Tang Jingjing told me she was the captain of the city’s Criminal Investigation Brigade. A bizarre case had occurred at a university, involving supernatural elements, so the Provincial Department was paying special attention and demanded it be solved within a week.

She repeatedly warned me that the bodies were particularly disturbing and urged me to prepare myself mentally.

I didn’t take it seriously. I was simply curious about what the corpses looked like.

The crime scene was a female dormitory at the university, with a police officer at the door. The area was cordoned off, and the entire floor felt eerie and oppressive.

When the door to dorm room 414 opened, I couldn’t help but gasp and stagger back against the wall at the sight of the bodies.

“Well done,” Tang Jingjing comforted me. “You didn’t scream. That’s more than I expected.”

How can I describe what I saw?

Two girls, completely naked, lay entwined on the bed, their bodies bound tightly together with a red rope. It looked as though they were engaged in… something. The bed was a mess, clearly showing that something had happened beforehand. Blood was everywhere—on their bodies, the sheets, the floor—a horrifying sight.

I glanced at their bodies. It was obvious they both had curvaceous, attractive figures, an oddly seductive quality amid the horror. I couldn’t see any wounds, so I asked Tang Jingjing, “Where did all this blood come from?”

Tang Jingjing shook her head.

I pressed on, “Was a forensic expert called in before?”

“Yes,” she replied. “One of them was too old—collapsed from a stroke at first sight of the bodies, and he’s still in the hospital. Another suffered a mental breakdown, and is still under counseling. Because this case is under intense scrutiny, I had to find another forensic expert in a hurry…”

I took a steadying breath. “Let’s go in and have a closer look.”

Tang Jingjing nodded and followed me inside.

Though I was still unnerved by the two bodies and felt as if their bleeding eyes were staring straight at me, I couldn’t let myself appear cowardly in front of a woman—especially since Tang Jingjing showed no fear.

She explained, “Both victims were female students at this university. The one on the left was twenty, the one on the right nineteen. At the time of the incident, only the two of them were in the room. When the dorm supervisor did the morning rounds, she couldn’t get the door open, and upon entering, found this scene.”

Despite the chill crawling up my scalp, I began my examination. I noticed the blood was concentrated around where their abdomens pressed together, suspecting the wound lay there.

I told Tang Jingjing, “Untie the rope. I need to check their abdomens.”

Tang Jingjing folded her arms behind her back, eyeing me with sarcastic amusement. “I’m not a forensic doctor.”

I felt helpless. Had I known I’d face such a gruesome scene, I’d never have come.

Steeling myself, I put on gloves and carefully loosened the red rope. The moment the rope came undone, I was struck by a sudden hallucination: it felt like some kind of sacrificial ritual, though what was being consecrated, I could not yet say.