My Dear Forensic Scientist (GL) - Chapter 5

Song Yuhang knocked lightly on the door twice. Hearing a strong “Come in” from inside, she pushed the door open and placed the case report on the desk.

Feng Jianguo was buried in paperwork, with a large enamel mug beside him, printed with the words “Serve the People.” It was said to be a reward he’d received when he first joined the force and won a third-class merit, and he’d been using it ever since.

Noticing her silence, he lifted his head in surprise. “What’s the matter?”

Song Yuhang opened her mouth but hesitated.

He seemed to understand what she was thinking. Putting his pen back in its cap, he said, “I heard you and that new forensic doctor, Lin Yan, had a little conflict this morning?”

Song Yuhang noticed his gaze fall on her arm. She looked down at it and said, “It’s nothing, just a scrape.”

“In past years, when you fought a suspect for half an hour during a cross-province manhunt, you didn’t come out looking like this.” Director Feng, a mild-tempered man who wore glasses, even teased her a little.

She lowered her head without answering, but he already understood her doubts.
“You want to ask why someone like Lin Yan would be allowed into our bureau, don’t you?”

That same morning, after a meeting, a case requiring injury assessment had come in. Lin Yan had pushed it off on Duan Cheng to handle—she only cared about the dead, never the living.

While everyone else was swamped with work, this young lady was lounging in her office with a cup of coffee brewed by Fang Xin, soft music playing on the computer, lying back in her chair with her legs on the desk and a face mask on her face.

According to her, it was “midday skincare time.”

“Back and not even letting me know so I could pick you up?”

A slow, smiling voice came through the receiver.

Lin Yan held her face mask in place with one hand so it wouldn’t peel off, while speaking in a muffled voice.

“Cut it out. You’re too busy with work—no way you have time to pick me up.”

On the other end, a man in a white coat stood outside his consultation room and chuckled. “I’d still make the time.”

Lin Yan shuddered. “Ugh, gross. Speak like a normal human.”

He couldn’t help but laugh aloud, drawing curious glances from passing nurses. He cleared his throat and straightened his expression. “Alright, when are you coming over to my place for dinner?”

“Let me guess, it was that old man Lin Youyuan who asked you to call me, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t talk about Uncle Lin that way. After all—”

Lin Yan pulled the phone away from her ear the moment she heard that name. “Enough. If that’s what you’re calling about, we’ve got nothing to talk about.”

“Wait, don’t hang up. Even if you won’t give Uncle Lin any face, at least give my mom some. She still worries about you a lot.”

When she’d first been taken back by Lin Youyuan, she was often bullied by Lin Cheng, who even threatened to run away from home if she stayed. Helpless, Lin Youyuan had sent the newly returned daughter to be fostered with Lin Ge’s family.

She stayed there for two years, until she was old enough for school, when the Lin family’s butler brought her back.

By seniority, Lin Ge was her cousin, but since they’d grown up together, neither ever used “brother” or “sister”—just “Lin Ge” and “Lin Yan.”

After high school, she severed ties with the Lin family entirely, maintaining only occasional contact with Lin Ge. As for that so-called father of hers, his only presence in her life was the unexplained money deposited into her account each month.

After a pause, she sighed quietly. “Forget it, I won’t go to your place. I’ll just invite you out for dinner another time.”

“Fine, but you’ll need to book ahead. I can’t be sure I’ll have time.”

“Damn, what’s up with you lately?” Lin Yan laughed and cursed.

“Nothing much. Just listening to my mom—going on some blind dates. Meeting now and then to keep up appearances.”

“Oooh~ looks like you’re serious this time.” The young lady gave a sharp whistle.

Lin Ge was seven years older than her. After years of studying abroad, he’d returned and refused the position arranged by Lin Youyuan, instead founding his own dental hospital, where he now served as director and chief of oral surgery.

His career was flourishing—just as his mother’s eagerness for grandchildren was reaching its peak.

He sighed. “Serious isn’t the word. Just treating it like making friends. I’m sure the other side feels the same.”

“And you? You’re not that young anymore. Shouldn’t you be thinking about your future too?”

“Go to hell with your ‘not that young.’ I’m thirty—still in my prime!”

The forensic doctor shouted indignantly. The air froze for two seconds, the music cut off, and a gaze fell on her.

She looked up. At the door stood Officer Song, expression unreadable in the backlight. Judging by her posture, she must’ve been there for some time.

Did this woman walk without making a sound?

Lin Yan rolled her eyes. “Great, someone’s here. Talk later.”

“Excuse me, do you have any gauze or alcohol?”

Still scrolling through her contacts for a dinner companion, Lin Yan didn’t even lift her eyes.

“Don’t know. Fang Xin?”

Fang Xin looked up from her mountain of files, pushing up her glasses. “Huh? What is it, Lin-jie?”

Song Yuhang repeated, “Alcohol. Gauze.”

Afraid they wouldn’t understand, she added, “To clean a wound.”

Fang Xin jumped up quickly. “Yes, yes, in the cabinet inside the autopsy room. I’ll get it.”

Moments later, she handed it over. “I can help you, Captain Song.”

“No need.”

Song Yuhang sat casually on a chair, rolled her sleeve up past her shoulder, and awkwardly began picking out the tiny bits of gravel embedded in her skin with an alcohol-soaked cotton swab.

Fang Xin turned pale at the sight, while Song didn’t so much as flinch.

Still typing out a message to her evening date, Lin Yan remarked flatly, “Some people just wouldn’t get hurt if they didn’t insist on playing the hero.”

That was harsh. Fang Xin looked on nervously, terrified a fight was about to break out.

But Song simply finished treating her wound, tossed the used swabs into the trash, capped the alcohol, and handed it back. “Thanks.”

When Fang Xin returned from the next room, the two were locked in a staring match.

Lin Yan nearly screamed when she looked up suddenly with her mask still on.

Song Yuhang’s face was as calm as ever. She always seemed detached, like some wandering martial hero in ancient times. But in this setting, her quiet composure was almost unnerving.

Being stared at so blankly was unsettling.

“Do I have something on my face?”

Song Yuhang leaned forward.

Already taller by a head, she loomed closer, carrying a faint scent of laundry soap.

Lin Yan shoved back hard with her foot against the desk, rolling her chair several steps away. “Captain Song, gazing at me so tenderly in the office isn’t exactly appropriate, is it?”

Song straightened, her arm now bandaged, one hand in her pocket. “According to Article 7, Clause 3 of the Police Uniform Regulations, officers may not wear uniforms draped open, with sleeves rolled, or trouser legs cuffed.”

Lin Yan glanced at her jacket draped on the chair, then down at her own open collar and rolled-up trousers. She slowly typed out a mental question mark.

Fang Xin hurriedly smoothed her own uniform and hair in a show of tidiness.

“Furthermore, except in special circumstances, female officers’ shoes may not exceed four centimeters in heel height.”

Lin Yan’s seven-centimeter, jewel-encrusted stilettos sparkled blindingly.

The young lady stared at her as though she were an alien.

“And,” Song continued, stepping back, “nail polish, dyed hair, and jewelry are also prohibited.”

“??? Song Yuhang, are you even human? No—are you even a woman?”

It was true—Song Yuhang always wore her uniform year-round. Never dyed her hair, always kept it tied back, her sharp features uncovered. Jewelry? Forget it. She probably found it a burden.

“From both a physiological and psychological standpoint, yes. As a forensic doctor, that question seems rather unprofessional.”

Lin Yan nearly choked on her own bl00d. She had never met someone who could shut her up like this.

She honestly wanted to crack open her skull and check if her brain contained nothing but rules and regulations.

She couldn’t be that much older than her, so how could she be so stiff and old-fashioned?

“First of all, what I wear and how I wear it is my freedom. Even as a police officer, you have no right to interfere.”

“True. But within the force, we must follow regulations.”

Lin Yan sneered, rising to her feet. The mask fell from her face—she balled it up and deliberately tossed it at Song Yuhang’s shoulder.

Her eyes sparkled with mockery and defiance.

“I won’t follow your rules. What can you do? Hit me? Report me? Let me tell you—the city government still owes the Lin family project funds. Do you know how many public officials in Binhai Province are fed by my family? Touch a single hair on my head and see what happens.”

The mask fell to the floor.

The room fell silent.

Fang Xin didn’t dare breathe. Only the sound of their breathing and the ticking wall clock remained.

Song Yuhang stepped forward.

Lin Yan didn’t retreat, staring her down.

When Song was about to take another step, Fang Xin grabbed her tightly, her young face full of reckless courage. “Captain Song, don’t! Please, stop!”

Lin Yan swallowed, almost imperceptibly.

Across from her, Song’s lips curved ever so slightly—it might’ve been her imagination.

“Relax. I won’t hit you. I just think that if you have no dedication, you should step aside for someone who does.”

That single line made Lin Yan explode again. “Who’s nervous?! Who?! What eyes of yours saw me nervous?!!”

The room fell silent again, until Fang Xin couldn’t help but laugh out loud—quickly covering her mouth.

“You just swallowed hard, clenched your fist, your toes turned outward, muscles tense, and your jaw twitched. That’s a defensive stance. If I moved, you’d counterattack. But since you weren’t sure you could win, you didn’t strike first.”

“I—damn it, I—!” Lin Yan was so furious she was incoherent, nearly foaming at the mouth, and snatched up a copy of Forensic Medicine to hurl at her.

Fang Xin clung to her desperately. “Don’t, Lin-jie! Don’t! You can’t beat her—Captain Song’s the top in the annual drills every year!”

Items clattered to the ground. Song Yuhang stepped back, unscathed.

She pulled a stack of A4-wrapped cash from her pocket and placed it on the desk. “Here. Return it. And don’t speed through the city anymore.”

“You—!” Lin Yan grabbed another book to throw.

Song tilted her head slightly, dodging, and left without another word.

Lin Yan tried to chase her, but Fang Xin held her back.

Never in her life had she been humiliated like this. At six years old, she’d beaten Lin Cheng to a pulp. Even if her stepmother punished her, as a Lin family member she’d always carried an aura of superiority. People either feared her or flattered her.

This was the first time she’d ever felt defeated by a woman. The last time she’d felt this way had been nearly twenty years ago.

After Song Yuhang left, Fang Xin cautiously offered her a cup of coffee. “Lin-jie, please don’t be angry with Captain Song. She can be rigid sometimes, but she’s actually very kind…”

“She has her reasons too. I haven’t been here long, but I heard her late partner—also her longtime classmate—was the chief forensic doctor before, and he…died on the job.”

“She never says anything, just works as usual, but deep down, she must be grieving more than anyone.”

“I—” Lin Yan started to retort, but her gaze fell on the desk before her.

It was covered in traces of the past owner: forensic books, sticky notes on the computer screen, and a faded old photo.

A Polaroid, grainy. Two young people stood side by side. One of them was the very woman she’d just quarreled with.

She looked so young then, in her brand-new uniform, brows open, lips curved faintly, two silver stars gleaming on her shoulders.

The best of her youth.

Lin Yan pressed her lips together. “Forget it. I’ll be the bigger person and let it go.”

Outside, Song Yuhang exhaled slowly, recalling what Director Feng had just told her.

“Lin Yan is stubborn and unruly. If not for her genuine skills, she’d never have gotten into our bureau. Just treat her as an auxiliary outsider. She won’t follow our ways anyway. I know you can’t tolerate disorder, but don’t take it too much to heart.”

For some reason, she sensed a faint indulgence—or helplessness—in his tone whenever he mentioned Lin Yan.

Maybe she was imagining it.

She shook her head and strode away.