Chapter Thirty: Gathering to Clear Grievances! Ancient Methods of Postmortem Examination!

Old Lin gave his report to Director Wang, but there weren’t any valuable leads—just the minor details we’d summed up yesterday. For instance, the rat dozing off inside the bus, or that Liu Juncheng might have previously worked as a driver on Bus Route 8.

Director Wang nodded, offering no particular opinion, but reiterated that if we needed any assistance, we should just let him know.

After returning, we found ourselves at a loss for how to proceed, so we gathered together to discuss ways to crack the case. Eventually, we refined a plan: tonight, Li Hong and I would once again board Bus Route 8 to closely observe the passengers, paying special attention to the burly drunk man to see if he would show up again. As for Tang Jingjing, she would wait at the stop where Li Hong had been yesterday to watch if the bus would stop there tonight and to see if anything unusual occurred in the vicinity.

Meanwhile, the rat and Old Lin would continue tailing the bus. To ensure they wouldn’t lose track of it due to fatigue, Old Lin told the rat to rest up beforehand. Li Xingchen, having nothing to do, began to feel awkward and volunteered to Old Lin for a task.

Old Mo thought for a moment, then asked Li Xingchen if he could try to contact someone inside the bus company—ideally to communicate with the staff without revealing his identity or leaking any information about the case.

Li Xingchen replied, “In that case, I’ll try to get into the company’s employee chat group. I’m not sure if the bus company people have one, though.”

I thought to myself that this was indeed a good idea.

Not long after, the on-duty police officer called to say the “fresh corpse” had arrived and told me to take over immediately.

A “fresh corpse”… as if it were a freshly steamed bun.

I called Li Hong to come with me, and with the help of the provincial department’s transport personnel, brought Liu Juncheng’s body to the forensic department.

Since Xia Feng was not involved in this case—and given the sensitivity and confidentiality—the Bureau’s regulations forbade him from handling the body. But I found Xia Feng honest and reliable, unlikely to leak anything, so I let him assist me with the autopsy.

Along with the body came the official autopsy report. I glanced at it; the report said there were no external injuries, and internal examination confirmed the time of death to be no more than five hours prior. The victim’s pupils were dilated, and blood tests showed a high alcohol content; with a blocked heart, the preliminary conclusion was death by myocardial infarction due to excessive drinking.

Xia Feng also glanced at the report and asked what our aim was in performing another autopsy. The provincial department’s technology was more advanced than ours—their report should be accurate.

Xia Feng was right. The provincial team was leagues above the city bureau, and the likelihood of error was slim. Still, as a forensic doctor, out of responsibility to the deceased, I re-examined the body.

The corpse had already been dissected and sewn back up, saving us much trouble.

I checked the organs one by one; except for being unable to test the blood alcohol content due to the time elapsed, the results matched the autopsy report from above.

Could it really be that the man died from a heart attack induced by excessive drinking?

Then I suddenly recalled a notebook at home—the "True Record of the Redressing of Injustices." I remembered clearly that Song Ci, the renowned criminal judge of the Song Dynasty, once said: “Sudden death from consuming lees is no different in appearance from death by fright; when determining cause of death, both must be considered.”

This means that those who die suddenly from drinking and those who die from fright show the same symptoms, such as cardiac arrest and dilated pupils. To determine the cause, both possibilities must be weighed.

In other words, the body before us may not have died solely from drinking; it could have been scared to death.

But how could someone be frightened to death? What did he see on that bus?

This made me begin to doubt the provincial autopsy report, so I decided to examine the body further, specifically to verify the first claim of the autopsy report: that there were no external injuries.

To check for external injuries, the body had to be completely undressed. With Xia Feng present, I considered it might be awkward and suggested she step out. She insisted that, to her, a corpse was merely a prop. I was then reassured, and together we undressed the body and examined it thoroughly.

I was annoyed at the poor preservation of the body by the provincial department—there were signs of darkening on the skin’s surface, likely due to tissue fluid seeping out. It could have been the funeral home’s fault, but I was in no position to pursue it.

After a thorough inspection, no external injuries were found.

Left with no other choice, I racked my brain for methods to detect such injuries, recalling techniques from that old notebook. I had to admit, the accumulated wisdom in that book sometimes surpassed that of modern forensic science—perhaps because ancient investigators, lacking advanced technology, had to rely on such methods.

After a moment’s thought, I remembered one technique: “Cover the area with wine lees, shine sunlight through oiled paper onto the body; if there’s a wound, it will appear red. If there’s no sunlight, use charcoal fire instead.”

In other words, by applying wine lees to the injured area and shining sunlight through oiled paper onto the corpse, wounds would show up as red marks. If sunlight was unavailable, charcoal fire could substitute.

I didn’t know the scientific principle behind it, nor could I guarantee its accuracy, but I decided to try it.

The smog had been thick lately and sunlight was rare, especially in the mornings. We couldn’t take the body outside without causing a commotion, so I decided to use a heater in place of sunlight. Charcoal was hard to come by, so I settled for an electric heater.

If that didn’t work, I’d try charcoal next.

I wrote out a list and asked Xia Feng to gather the required materials. She was puzzled and asked what they were for. I told her to just get them as quickly as possible; she’d understand soon enough.

She nodded and hurried off. While she was gone, I found Old Lin and explained my idea. He was doubtful and asked if I was sure the victim had died of fright. I shook my head—uncertain, as it might just as well have been a heart attack from drinking.

He asked if there was any way to be certain. I smiled wryly—if I could, I’d have done so already.

He, too, was undecided and asked about my next step. I said I’d try the ancient method to see if there were any external injuries.

At the mention of that old notebook from home, Old Lin’s interest was piqued. He asked me to share some of its strange and wonderful contents.

That put me in a difficult spot—the notebook was my father's treasured possession, locked away tightly.

Seeing my discomfort, Old Lin burst out laughing. “Kid, I’m just teasing you. Look how nervous you are.”

I breathed easier, resolving that if he asked again, I’d just make something up.

Soon, Xia Feng returned, carrying wine lees in one hand and several sheets of oiled paper in the other. I’d already borrowed the electric heater.

Following the notebook’s instructions, I coated the body with wine lees. Afterward, I turned on the heater and, with the oiled paper, examined the corpse.

To my surprise, the results were strikingly clear. I found red markings on the chest, chin, and even the fingers—clear evidence that the chest, chin, and palms had sustained injuries.

Delighted, I immediately shared my findings with Old Lin. His first reaction was utter amazement at the wisdom of the ancients, marveling at how many failures must have led to such accumulated expertise.

He even urged me to hand over the notebook to the state—to preserve its essence and discard its dross, and thus advance the nation’s forensic science.

I thought to myself, better not! I wasn’t even allowed to talk about it—if it were made public, my father would kill me, and even my doting second uncle couldn’t protect me.