My Dear Forensic Scientist (GL) - Chapter 4

Three months later.

Monday morning.

Jiang City.

As a prefecture-level city, Jiang City hadn’t yet implemented license plate restrictions, so the huge traffic flow surged into its congested roads.

The traffic lights flickered.

Swarms of e-bikes and bicycles cut dangerously through gaps like they had a death wish.

Horns blared one after another, mixed with the shrill whistles of traffic police, the whole scene boiling like hot oil splashed with water.

Pedestrians, in the last few seconds of the flashing green light, swarmed across the road all at once. In the chaos, someone’s meat bun fell, got stepped on repeatedly, rolled to the roadside, and was immediately snatched away by a stray dog scavenging near a trash bin.

The driver’s horn was almost breaking, but the pedestrians still streamed across. The light was about to turn green again when the sound of impatient newspaper pages flipping came from the back seat.

Seizing a gap, the driver slammed on the accelerator.

Lin Yan held a cup of freshly ground coffee she had prepared before setting off. She hadn’t even had two sips when there was a loud crash, the car jolted sharply, and her expensive, limited-edition suit got the full contribution of that coffee.

The young lady’s temple vein twitched.

The driver stammered, turning back: “Miss, I was driving properly, but a tricycle suddenly shot out from the blind spot…”

“Damn it, is he looking for death?”

At the intersection, a crowd was already gathering. Jiang City wasn’t big, and those who could afford luxury cars were rare, so people pointed and whispered outside the window.

The butler handed her a tissue, got out of the car, and went to handle things.

Song Yuhang helped up the old man who had fallen, while the tricycle lay overturned, its basket of vegetables and fruit scattered all over the ground, ruined and unsellable.

Luckily, she had spotted the danger in time and pulled the old man off the tricycle. Her little e-scooter had been knocked over, so the old man only had some scrapes.

“Are you alright?”

The old grandmother sat on the ground, more shocked than hurt. Seeing her ruined produce, her eyes reddened, mouth opening and closing but unable to cry.

“Where’s the driver? Hit someone and still not coming down to explain?”

“Yeah, just because you drive a Benz doesn’t mean you can act all high and mighty!”

“Get down, get down here!”

“Everyone, we were driving normally. It was this old woman who suddenly rushed out. If we hadn’t braked in time, I’m afraid the outcome would have been much worse…” The butler kept a polite smile, calm and composed.

“Driving normally or not, you still hit someone, didn’t you?”

“Look at you, driving such a fancy car but no compassion at all.”

“Exactly! Poor granny works so hard to sell vegetables, and now she can’t sell them. Why can’t you pay her a bit?”

“So what you’re saying is, I should also pay for her medical check-up, cover hospital bills, and compensate her for today’s loss?”

A low, husky female voice suddenly cut in.

It wasn’t particularly melodious, with a roughness like someone who had smoked for years.

Song Yuhang looked up, first seeing a pair of stilettos, then black wide-leg trousers, and finally a strikingly unforgettable face.

She frowned. It felt familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.

Lin Yan’s gaze swept over the old woman. Injury assessment was basic forensic skill—one glance and she already had an idea.

“Finally, someone reasonable. You’re the car owner, right?”

It was the same burly man speaking, clearly excited to address such a striking woman in a luxury car.

“Are you a traffic cop?” Lin Yan held her jacket on her arm while the butler shielded her with an umbrella. Her face clearly read: Keep away, strangers.

“N-no…” The man was cowed by her presence.

“Then why should I listen to you?” She smirked, glanced at her watch.

“The light cycles every sixty seconds. Three minutes ago it was red. I followed the rules. The one who ran the red light was this old lady.”

The old woman straightened weakly in Song Yuhang’s arms, her clothes shabby, shoes muddy, lips trembling: “I… I’m sorry, miss… I was rushing to sell vegetables… If I don’t sell them, this whole month’s work is wasted…”

Her pitiful sobs made the crowd uneasy, and with Lin Yan’s “blame-shifting,” people grew indignant.

“Look at her, picking on a poor old lady just trying to make a living!”

“Young people today, no sympathy!”

Lin Yan rolled her eyes. So my money just falls from the sky?

“Fine. You want compensation?” She pointed at the bumper, dented with scrapes across the hood.

“This car isn’t that expensive—just over two million. Repair costs? Discounted, call it ten grand. Will the old lady pay, or you, or you, or you?”

She swept her gaze across the loudest onlookers, lips curled in disdain, exuding arrogance.

“And my suit. Custom-made, no returns, can’t dry-clean. Thanks to that sudden brake, a whole cup of coffee’s gone. That’s another hundred grand down the drain. Shouldn’t someone pay for that too?”

The old lady turned pale, nearly collapsing to her knees in panic.

“I’m sorry, girl… sorry… It’s my fault, I’m old, my eyes are bad… It’s just me and my grandson at home… Please, don’t make me pay… it’s my fault…”

Sympathy for the old lady grew, and again they accused Lin Yan of being “heartless.”

Lin Yan snapped: “Shut the hell up! Did I hit you? No? Then mind your own damn business!”

The burly man, enraged, lunged with a fist.

“B1tch, I’ll show you meddling today!”

The driver stepped forward protectively, but before the punch could land, a young woman stopped him. She looked around thirty, tall but slender, yet effortlessly diverted his attack and pushed him back into the crowd with barely any force.

Lin Yan raised an eyebrow. “Another busybody?”

Song Yuhang shook her head. “Not busybody. You were speeding. Both sides share responsibility—you should compensate, but more, out of humanity.”

Lin Yan almost choked. “What…”

Song Yuhang pointed to a sign: “Urban area. Speed limit 30.”

Next to a giant billboard, a lonely pole bore a warning sign, the number “30” circled in red.

Lin Yan’s mouth twitched, nearly losing her temper.

Song added calmly, “Based on your passing time and distance, your speed exceeded the limit.” She explained the formula.

Lin Yan groaned, “Enough, enough, stop. You say I pay, so I pay? Damn it…”

Instinctively, Song reached for her pocket to pull out her badge—but came up empty.

“I’m…” She patted again, uncertain.

“What? A scammer? Fraud? A staged accident?” Lin Yan sneered, motioning for the butler to hand her wallet. She casually pulled out a wad of cash, tossing it at them like beggars.

“Nowadays even scammers are this dedicated. With that drive, you could succeed at anything. Here, call it compensation. Take it as coffin money, and get lost.”

She’d stood too long in the sun, makeup melting, throat parched. She climbed back into the car.

The crowd dispersed. Song Yuhang gathered the cash, helped the old woman to the roadside, then picked up her fallen scooter. When she turned, the butler handed her a card.

“If there are problems, call this number.”

The thin card bore gold-stamped letters: Jingtai Group Co., Ltd.

The back listed a legal department number.

“Wait—” Song tried to return the cash. “I really wasn’t—”

But the butler was gone, the Benz melting into traffic.

“Are you hurt anywhere else, ma’am? Let me take you to a hospital.”

“No, no, thank you, girl. You’re a good person.” The old woman gripped her hand, teary-eyed with gratitude.

The burly man she’d stopped returned with water, offering her one too. “You’re strong, huh? Normally I don’t lose fights, but you pushed me like I lost footing. You shouldn’t have stopped me though—women like her deserve a beating!”

Song smiled faintly, refusing the bottle. “It’s better you didn’t hit her.”

She’d noticed the driver: average height but broad-shouldered, muscular, callused knuckles from boxing, a flat nose with scars, and cauliflower ears—clear marks of a battle-hardened fighter.

If even the “driver” was at pro-fighter level, then what kind of woman was his employer?

Inside the car, the driver asked, “Miss, are we just letting this go?”

Lin Yan didn’t even lift her eyes from her newspaper.

“What else? You think you could beat that woman?”

The driver faltered. “I…”

“Head to Jiang City Public Security Bureau. This whole morning’s exhausted me.” She yawned.

The car sped toward the city bureau.

It was past nine, the busiest hour. The Benz screeched to a stop at the entrance.

The young lady swung out, sunglasses on, heels clicking with commanding presence.

Passing officers whispered: “Hey, must be another spoiled socialite come to make a scene.”

The officer asked wore glasses, short and pudgy, arms like hams, chewing a sausage and carrying bags of breakfast.

A waft of pork-bun smell floated past Lin Yan.

The chubby man grinned, teeth stuck with greens. “Don’t know… but she’s pretty, hehe.”

Lin Yan gagged, not sure if it was his smell or face.

“Come on, hurry, before Captain Song sees us,” his colleague tugged him away.

“Damn it, what kind of freak show is this…” Lin Yan muttered, glancing up at the grand emblem above the bureau hall before striding inside.

“Hey, heard the new forensic expert is arriving today. What was her name… Lin something?”

“Lin Yan.” A thick civil service exam prep book slid off a guy’s face, revealing decent looks compared to the “freak show” around.

But tucked inside was a cheeky anime drawing. He quickly kissed it and stuffed it back.

The chubby guy typed “Lin Yan” into the search bar, pulling up results.

“Hey, check this out.”

Heads crowded together.

“Lin Yan, thirty-two. Undergrad from Fudan Med School, one of the nation’s ‘Top Six’ in forensics. Master’s and PhD in forensic medicine at Boston University. Has performed over five thousand autopsies, setting a record among young scholars…”

The photo showed a woman in a white coat, wavy hair tied back, a few strands framing her face, sharp brows, pale skin, dark lips—more like a magazine model than a doctor.

“That was last year’s report. She’s over six thousand now.”

The voice came from the sofa—where Lin Yan sat, legs crossed, admiring her manicure.

Everyone turned back, stunned.

The chubby guy wiped his glasses again. “You’re the Lin Yan, listed as the provincial police’s ‘public enemy number one’ for overturning so many convictions?”

She nodded, chin propped on hand, alluring.

The young man swallowed nervously. “And the Lin Yan rumored to have three boyfriends at once?”

“Hm?” She wagged a slim finger. “Four.”

The only female tech officer, thick glasses and blunt bangs, had to manually close her gaping jaw.

“And… the billionaire heiress Lin Yan?”

She couldn’t even be bothered to answer, just yawned.

The female officer’s eyes lit up with stars. To her, Lin Yan was basically a walking cash printer.

“Alright, introductions done. Who’s showing me the changing room? Where’s the bathroom?”

Three men jumped up. “Me, me, me!”

“You? To the women’s locker room?”

Another offered to carry her bag and clear a desk.

The chubby guy stammered, “L-Lin Forensic, are you hungry? I… I’ve got some leftover buns…”

Lin Yan turned back with a dazzling smile, breathtaking.

But her lips parted only to coldly utter: “Scram.”

The chubby guy’s heart shattered as the others hurried to tidy for her.

“Captain Song, what happened to you?”

Song Yuhang emerged in a light-blue short-sleeved uniform, her arm scraped raw from elbow to wrist, bl00d dried, dust and grit embedded.

It was from rescuing the old woman.

She casually wiped with a tissue, not even frowning. “Nothing, just a scratch.”

A colleague offered a wet wipe. “Someone dared attack a cop?”

Attack a cop?

Song thought of that arrogant woman, lips quirking faintly. “Not exactly. More like a lunatic who hit someone and still—”

“Ugh, don’t even start. The traffic here’s insane. On my way I nearly had two maniacs throw themselves at my car—”

The familiar voice cut through the hall.

Everyone turned from Song to the door, curious.

And there she was—the “lunatic” Song had just mentioned—striding in, seven-centimeter heels clicking, ill-fitting uniform hanging loosely, top button undone to reveal pale skin and collarbone, a small elegant earring catching the light.

Behind her, the squad captain introduced: “Comrades, this is Lin Yan, our new forensic expert. I’m sure you’ve all heard her name.”

Someone nearly fell out of their chair.

Song’s expression stiffened for a split second. A colleague nudged her: “Captain Song, don’t tell me that lunatic is her?”

Lin Yan smirked at Song. “Well, well, the scammer.”

Called out for badmouthing, Song barely flinched. Awkwardness passed quickly—she stepped forward, hand extended.

“Not a scam. You were speeding. Hello, Lin Forensic. I’m Song Yuhang, Deputy Captain of Criminal Investigations.”

It was a gesture of goodwill.

But Lin Yan only gave a slight nod, refusing to shake.

Awkward silence returned. Song simply drew her hand back, unfazed, and went on with work.

The squad captain, a balding man in his forties with a businessman’s air, cleared his throat. “Let’s all introduce ourselves.”

The chubby guy went first, dejected.

Then the young man snapped a salute: “Intern forensic examiner, Duan Cheng!”

Lin Yan just filed her nails.

Last was the shy female tech: “Trace examiner Fang Xin, reporting.”

As the lead forensic, she addressed Lin Yan correctly, but the heiress only raised her brow lazily.

Others introduced themselves one by one, but Lin Yan hardly remembered anyone.

Only that woman—Song Yuhang—sat quietly in the corner, calm as drifting clouds, though Lin Yan had already witnessed her skill.

“Wait, I’m the only forensic in this division?” Lin Yan asked, looking at the ragtag bunch.

The captain coughed. “There was a chief examiner, but he passed away recently. Headquarters hasn’t reassigned yet…”

“…”

She regretted asking. She’d never seen a municipal bureau this shabby—it felt more like some backwater township makeshift outfit.