My Dear Forensic Scientist (GL) - Chapter 2

“Miss Lin, what’s your mindset in testifying for the defendant this time?”

“Miss Lin, are you confident that your autopsy results will convince the judge and affect the verdict?”

“It’s said that the defendant’s father is the president of Xinye Corporation, and that the Lin Group has business dealings with them. Is this true?”

“Miss Lin, rumor has it that you and Chairman Zhang of Zhongcheng Group are soon to be engaged…”

The moment she stepped out of the car, she was surrounded tightly by reporters. Flashbulbs went off in bursts, microphones and cameras shoved in her face from every direction.

The butler shielded her as they walked inside, bodyguards opening a path at the front. At the very center of this storm, the woman maintained her usual composed expression—calm, detached, unmoved even by the trickiest of questions.

Until—

Lin Yan removed her sunglasses. The corners of her lips curved with a faintly mocking smile as she looked at the banner and wreaths set up at the steps of the Supreme Court.

“Corrupt forensic doctor defending murderers deserves to die!”
“Heartless, immoral, disgrace to humanity—get this black-hearted medical examiner out of the judiciary!”

“Miss—” the butler moved to stop them.

But Lin Yan slipped her sunglasses back on and even whistled cheerfully:
“Next time, at least pick a prettier photo.”

On the funeral wreath, her black-and-white portrait showed arched brows, sharp cheekbones, and none of the softness of traditional beauty. Her gaze, forever aloof, carried a mocking smile at the corners of her lips—as if ridiculing this absurd world.

Before the trial, Lin Yan changed into her institute uniform: a striped shirt beneath a white lab coat. Unlike ordinary doctors with the red cross badge, her chest bore the English initials of her research institute, the insignia a dark-blue pyramid.

As they finalized preparations, the defense lawyer spoke to her:
“The other side is well-prepared this time. Do you have enough evidence to support his acquittal?”

Lin Yan shrugged, helpless:
“Whether he’s acquitted or not is for the judge to decide. I take money to do a job—my responsibility is to provide evidence in his favor. Nothing more.”

The trial began. After more than two hours of heated arguments between the lawyers, Lin Yan was nearly dozing off. But when the judge called her name, her usually languid eyes flickered with sharpness.

She rose slowly and walked to the witness stand.

The prosecution lawyer stiffened almost imperceptibly, glancing toward his own witness—an experienced forensic doctor.

That witness, too, went tense, the two exchanging a heavy, desperate look.

“The victim’s underwear and vaginal swabs both tested positive for the defendant Jin Weixin’s semen and DNA. Do you have anything to say to this?”

The prosecutor asked first.

Lin Yan didn’t even frown.
“Nothing much to say.”

Down below, the handcuffed defendant stirred, agitated, until the bailiffs restrained him.

Miss Lin, usually so sparing with words, cast him a brief glance before adding:
“But that only proves he had sexual relations with the victim. It doesn’t prove he killed her.”

The defense lawyer’s lips curved faintly.
“According to police investigation, on April 18th, 2007, around 10 p.m., the victim and the defendant, along with friends, entered a KTV private room. This is the surveillance footage.”

His assistant pressed play on the laptop. Lin Yan watched as the screen showed Jin Weixin holding the victim, Wang Li, looking drunk and intimate. Under the surveillance camera, Wang Li’s face flashed with a moment of suppressed irritation.

At 10:15 p.m., they passed under the camera. Two hours later, Jin Weixin stumbled out of the private room alone, then returned about ten minutes later dragging a suitcase—the very one used to dispose of the body.

Suspicious indeed, but as their boss, his employees dared not question him. It was late; fatigue dulled vigilance. He slipped away, with parking lot cameras catching his car leaving. He had motive, means, and the body confirmed the crime. Even without a confession, conviction seemed assured.

Jin Weixin’s face twitched, hands clenching nervously in his lap.

“Eyewitnesses drinking with them testified that the defendant harassed the victim soon after sitting down. Forced to endure because he was her boss, she put up with it until…” The prosecutor’s gaze swept coldly toward Jin Weixin.

“Until he ordered her to pick up a card fallen into his lap with her mouth.”

‘Pick it up! Why aren’t you picking it up? Use your mouth, pick it up, and the money’s yours.’ Jin Weixin slapped cash against the girl’s face.

The girl wore only a crop top and shorts. When she hesitated, he stuffed bills into her low neckline.

“Pick it up! Or you’re fired!” he barked, shoving her head downward. Tears welled in her eyes.

The gallery erupted with hisses.

“Order!” the judge banged the gavel.

Lin Yan shook her head with a short laugh, cutting the prosecutor off:
“I don’t care what happened between them, nor do I need it repeated. I only testify to my forensic results—”

The prosecution’s witness stood to speak:
“The victim died from massive bleeding caused by a sharp weapon—the murder weapon being this fruit knife.”

The lawyer raised the evidence bag.

“The knife measures 10 cm long, 3 cm at its widest point—consistent with the wounds on the victim. Tests show her bl00d and the defendant’s fingerprints. What do you say to this?”

They turned to Lin Yan.

Bored of standing, she leaned lazily on the table.
“Lawyer, show Exhibit B-4.”

With the court’s permission, her lawyer projected a slide.

“This is a bruise found on the victim’s lower back—”

“I object! Irrelevant to the case!” the opposing lawyer cut in.

The judge glanced at the screen, then back.
“Objection overruled.”

Lin Yan smirked:
“Second autopsy revealed only one bruise about 3 cm wide. As we all know, bruising requires bl00d flow. After death, with the heart stopped and bl00d coagulated, bruises cannot form.”

“This proves nothing. It could just be from struggling, hitting something.”

The prosecution’s doctor chimed in.

Lin Yan snapped her fingers.
“Correct. Now show Exhibit B-2.”

On the screen appeared photos of the KTV crime scene. Tables littered with bottles, bl00d pooling on the floor, spatter on the sofa legs.

“Zoom in. The table corner.”

The gallery looked confused.

Lin Yan smiled faintly at the “experienced” forensic doctor—eyes mocking beneath her calm.

Sweat dotted his brow.

“Amateurs may not see it. But an experienced forensic doctor should know—this bruise couldn’t be made by those round tables in the room. No matter what happened, such an injury doesn’t match.”

The bruise was small but deep, purple from within. Round tables simply couldn’t cause it.

“At best, it proves the victim was injured while alive. But the knife still bears the defendant’s prints. That fact is unshakable.”

Lin Yan sneered.
“Who said she died from the knife wound?”

The court burst into noise. If the cause of death was wrong, the fingerprints were meaningless.

“Silence!” the judge thundered.

“Then what was the cause?”

“Digitalis poisoning.”

The prosecution’s doctor exhaled in relief:
“The victim had a history of heart disease, regularly taking digitalis. Toxicology tests showed normal levels, non-lethal.”

Lin Yan laughed coldly.
“Is that so?”

Her assistant cued up the next slide.

“During re-examination, we tested her liver tissue and bile, estimating peak bl00d concentration an hour before death. The dosage—”

She paused, then spoke slowly:
“—was fatal.”

The opposing lawyer sweated heavily. The forensic doctor licked his lips, speechless.

The room fell utterly silent, except for the defendant slowly clutching his head in trembling hands.

Evening sunlight slipped from the tables onto the floor, leaving Lin Yan standing in shadow.

Her lips curved into a smile—enchanting, yet laced with mockery.

“Even when bl00d clears most toxins, the liver and bile preserve traces. Forensics never relies on one method. We further tested fluid from the vitreous humor of her eyes. Results confirmed fatal digitalis overdose. The report will be submitted to court.”

The prosecutor whipped around to glare at his expert witness. The man was drenched in sweat, lips trembling but unable to respond.

Testing vitreous humor isn’t standard practice. Anyone would assume a chest wound gushing bl00d was cause of death.

But not Lin Yan. She never walked the usual path.

After speaking at length, she licked her dry lips and returned to her seat.

Her first thought: Damn, I should’ve applied more lip balm this morning.

For police, evidence is everything. For court, an airtight chain of evidence is paramount. The case would inevitably be sent back for reinvestigation.

As he was led away in cuffs, Jin Weixin passed by her, throat tight. Hoarsely, he whispered two words:
“…Thank you.”

Lin Yan raised a brow, her face expressionless. But within steps, she was again besieged by reporters.

“Miss Lin, did you testify for him because of your father’s connections?”

“Miss Lin, even if he isn’t guilty of murder, he committed sexual assault. As a fellow woman, what’s your view?”

“Miss Lin, you’ve helped many suspects escape heavy sentences—last month, the ‘South City Dismemberment Case’ was reduced from death to life imprisonment. Word is, the provincial authorities consider you ‘Public Enemy No. 1.’ Is this true?”

Questions flew sharper and sharper. Surrounded, Lin Yan moved forward in silence, assistant and bodyguards shielding her.

“Miss Lin, you’re worth millions. Why choose forensic pathology as a career?”

The question came from a young, sweaty rookie reporter, shoving a microphone toward her.

Seemingly irrelevant, the question made Lin Yan’s steps falter slightly. On camera, her face showed the faintest flicker of emotion.

But only for a second. She walked on, the assistant pushing the rookie aside.

“Miss Lin!” More reporters surged as she reached the court entrance.

Someone shouted loudly:
“Miss Lin, what makes you so sure Jin Weixin isn’t the murderer?!”

She stopped at last, lips curving in a sardonic half-smile. Casually, she plucked a microphone.

“And what makes you so sure he is?”

“This… According to police investigation—”

“Based on what? A few photos, an edited surveillance clip, fingerprints on a knife?”

Her voice sliced sharp, cameras flashing wildly. Reporters fell silent, caught by her unwavering gaze.

“In the end, it’s nothing but speculation. To you, the poor are always sympathetic victims. The rich, always ruthless villains.”

“Women shouldn’t be forensic doctors. Men must be lust-driven killers. Murderers kill—and you…”

Her eyes lifted to the cameras. Black pupils, bright sclera, strikingly beautiful yet chilling.

“…condemn hearts.”

Her voice, cool and clear, struck like a gavel.

Reporters froze. Even photographers forgot to click for a beat, before bursting into a frenzy of shots.

Lin Yan neared the court doors. Behind her, reporters pursued relentlessly; before her, crowds blocked the way.

Then someone shouted:
“Lin Yan, by defending a murderer, have you thought of the victim’s family? You don’t deserve to be a forensic doctor—die!”

Chaos erupted. A man stumbled through the crowd.

Bodyguards were scattered in the crush. In a split-second, Lin Yan tugged her assistant by the collar, pulling him in front of her.

The man was doused head-to-toe in filth.

Reporters recoiled, covering their noses, as bailiffs tackled the assailant.

Lin Yan wrinkled her nose in disgust, stepping away.

“Miss, are you alright?” the bodyguards regrouped.

“I’m fine.” She peeled off her lab coat and handed it over. “Throw it out.”

“Yes, Miss.”

Thanks to the assailant, no one else dared get too close.

The assistant, filthy and reeking, nearly wept.
“Miss Lin…”

Without looking back, she said flatly:
“Don’t bother coming to work tomorrow.”

He froze in despair. If it had been a knife, would she have pushed him into its path too? Was a life so worthless to her?

If Lin Yan had heard his thoughts, she might’ve said: Haven’t I seen enough corpses on the autopsy table?

As night fell, the black sedan glided quietly down the road. Lin Yan reclined in the back, eyes closed, city lights casting shadows over her face.

The butler turned.
“Miss, the usual?”

She answered with a faint hum.

The butler, who had served her father before being assigned to her, understood well. Seeing her fatigue, he signaled the driver to head home.

But Lin Yan opened her eyes.
“No. We’ll go see someone.”