My Dear Forensic Scientist (GL) - Chapter 8

Lin Yan blurted out without hesitation:
“Pretentious, hypocritical, watching her just makes me sick.”

Lin Ge tugged at her, face darkening.
“What nonsense are you spouting! It’s one thing to talk about me, but how can you…”

Lin Yan shot back sarcastically:
“You’ve never spent time with her, so you don’t know. She’s one way in front of people and another behind their backs. With your IQ, if you really married into the Lin family, she’d have you wrapped around her finger in no time!”

Lin Ge was so furious his face turned crimson, but he couldn’t bring himself to hit her.
“Lin Yan, will you ever stop! Nothing’s even settled yet! I don’t know what misunderstanding you and Miss Song have, but criticizing her in public like this is wrong!”

Lin Yan’s lips were about to dry out from talking:
“Let me put it this way. The Lin family has nothing besides money—oh, wait, it also has an annoying little sister-in-law like me. Marriage is a lifelong matter, don’t come crying with regrets later.”

Song Yuhang shook her head and took another sip of water.
“I think you may be overconfident. I don’t dislike you.”

“…What?” Lin Yan’s brain froze for a second.

“I don’t dislike you.”

Those six words, coming from Song Yuhang’s mouth, sounded utterly unexpected.

But then—

The phrase “overconfident” slapped her right back into reality.

If not for her aristocratic upbringing keeping her manners in check, Lin Yan would’ve slammed the table already.
“Song, don’t you dare—”

The words ‘don’t know what’s good for you’ hadn’t even left her mouth when both their phones buzzed at the same time.

Lin Yan, ready to unleash a whole storm of curses, was forced to swallow it back because of the ringtone. She angrily hung up without looking.

Across from her, Song Yuhang answered and stood up immediately, pulling several bills from her wallet and leaving them on the table.
“Sorry, I’ll have to trouble you to cover the bill today. If that’s not enough, I’ll transfer you the rest later.”

Lin Ge jumped up quickly, flustered.
“No, no, it should be me apologizing to you for tonight…”

But Song Yuhang didn’t even hear him, her mind focused on the call from headquarters:
“A female corpse has been found in the northwest part of Lotus Pond Park. The local station is already on site. Director Zhao asked you to…”

“I’ll be right there. Send me the address.”

Meanwhile, Lin Yan’s screen was flashing with Duan Cheng’s name. Annoyed, she answered sharply:
“Can you not be so annoying? Don’t you know it’s off-duty hours?!”

Duan Cheng was nearly crying.
“No, Lin-jie, something happened—there’s a case…”

Lin Yan slammed her glass on the table, then darted back to grab her bag.
“Lin Ge, I’m leaving first. This meal’s on me, just have the boss put it on my tab.”

“But—” Before Lin Ge could finish, the two women had already gone out one after the other. He let out a long sigh, staring at the messy table.
“What the hell is this…”

She had dismissed her driver earlier, so Lin Yan stood at the roadside trying to hail a cab. Rush hour made it impossible; several taxis passed, already full.

She bit her lip, ready to call her driver back, when a white BYD pulled up in front of her.

Song Yuhang rolled down the window, words clipped:
“Get in.”

Lin Yan rolled her eyes, ignoring her.

Seeing no response, Song Yuhang was about to shift gears and leave, when Lin Yan glanced at the heavy traffic at the intersection, gritted her teeth.

“Fine. Open the door.”

As she got in, Song Yuhang glanced at her, as if wanting to say something.

Lin Yan buckled her seatbelt herself.
“If you have something to say, spit it out. Don’t hold it in.”

Instead, Song Yuhang pulled a police siren from the console and snapped it onto the roof. Then she floored the accelerator, weaving through traffic.

Lin Yan smirked.
“You sure know how to take advantage.”

“What, the great Miss Lin—the only heir of Lin Corporation—still cares about saving gas money?”

“Of course. Even a fly’s still meat.”

“I thought—” Song Yuhang glanced at her, but cut herself off mid-sentence.

“Thought what?” Lin Yan pressed. She only shook her head, switched on the Bluetooth speaker, and focused on the briefing.

With that, Lin Yan had no room to interrupt.

Her attention, too, shifted to the case. She was itching for action—she’d been dissecting nothing but mice and rabbits for days, her hands practically twitching.

Noticing the eager expression, Song Yuhang’s face darkened, but she kept calm. She slammed the gas, swerving them between two massive trucks.

“Damn it, Song Yuhang! If you wanna die, don’t drag me with you!”

Five minutes later, Lotus Pond Park.

Song Yuhang parked outside. The area was already cordoned off, flashing lights everywhere. Local police were maintaining order.

She flashed her badge and ducked under the tape. Lin Yan, however, was stopped.

“Hey, I—”

Song Yuhang turned back and lifted the tape for her.
“This is the city bureau’s new forensic doctor, let her through.”

The officers exchanged looks before letting her pass.

It wasn’t surprising.

Dressed in a refined dress and stilettos, Lin Yan looked more like a magazine model than a forensic doctor.

The sub-bureau was already busy: one officer taking witness statements, another doing notes. Crime scene techs and investigators were on-site too.

A sharp-faced man in his forties came forward, offering Song Yuhang a cigarette.
“Captain Song, what wind blew you here?”

“Thanks, I don’t smoke. Just tell me the case.”

Awkward, he stuffed the cigarette back.
“Here’s the situation: around seven this evening, a river-cleaner was working…”

An old man in his fifties, dripping wet and still trembling, described the discovery, clearly shaken.

“…I thought it was construction waste dumped in the river. I used the pole to poke at it—it was heavy, nearly capsized my raft. So I went into the water to drag it to shore. That’s when I smelled something foul… Then the bag tore, a foot came out—I nearly…”

He shuddered violently.
“If not for my swimming, I’d have gone under myself.”

Song Yuhang:
“Do you remember the exact time?”

The man frowned, shook his head.
“Just sometime after seven. I reported it right after I got ashore. When I checked my phone, it was around eight-thirty.”

“Alright. Leave your name and number. We may need you again.”

He hurried to scribble his info.

Meanwhile, the district’s forensic doctor was doing a preliminary check. Lin Yan leaned closer.

“Hey, what’ve you found?” she asked a nearby officer.

The cop turned irritably.
“Step back, this isn’t for bystanders.”

Lin Yan chuckled.
“You’ve been staring so long and still can’t figure it out?”

The male doctor flushed, raising his voice.
“Cause of death is drowning. No external injuries. Most likely suicide.”

The remark shocked Song Yuhang, her lips pressed thin, eyes cold.
“Tell me—which suicide would bag themselves first before jumping in?”

Lin Yan burst out laughing.
“Hahaha! Captain Song, you’re hilarious—”

But one look at Song Yuhang’s expression shut her right up.

The local detective team leader—the one who’d offered cigarettes—hurried to smooth things over.
“Come on, Captain Song, don’t be angry. Just a rookie speaking nonsense. We’ll handle the case properly.”

Song Yuhang knew the truth: grassroots teams often bent cases for clearance rates, downgrading serious crimes into minor ones. But unfortunately for him, he’d run into her—someone who never tolerated negligence.

“From this moment on, the city bureau is taking over this case.” Her voice was firm.

“Duan Cheng, why are you standing there? Get photos and video. Fang Xin, collect trace evidence. The rest of you—re-interview witnesses. Lin Forensic—”

Her gaze fell on Lin Yan, who had already tied back her hair, slipped on gloves and mask, face turning serious.

Song Yuhang pressed her lips together and crouched beside her.

The plastic bag was opened. The body was bloated, skin starting to peel, especially the hands, which looked like rubber gloves.

Lin Yan touched and came away with corpse grease, unbothered. With a flashlight, she lifted the eyelids.
“Petechial hemorrhages in the conjunctiva.”

Duan Cheng rushed to photograph.

“Lividity pale, reddish.”

Light shifted to mouth and nose—white frothy foam plugging them.
“Consistent with drowning.”

Song Yuhang felt the clothes. Nothing identifying.
“Fang Xin, get a DNA sample. Run it against the missing persons database.”

“On it, Captain.”

Song Yuhang looked at the crowd around. With such an open area, someone should’ve seen a body dumped.

“Lin Forensic, time of death.”

Lin Yan didn’t answer directly. She held out her hand for the rectal thermometer.

“Rectal temp: 25.8℃. Duan Cheng, measure water temp. Average temp this past week…?”

Duan Cheng scampered off. Lin Yan muttered—her hands greasy, no way she’d dig out her phone.

“Average temp, 30℃,” Song Yuhang supplied.

Forensic estimation was complicated, but Lin Yan didn’t hesitate.
“Estimated time of death: 3–5 days ago. More precise results after autopsy—checking stomach contents, liver temp, etc. With water disposal, many factors affect PMI. Don’t expect miracles.”

She was cautious.

Song Yuhang signaled for the body to be bagged; leaving it exposed was only fueling the crowd.

Once the body was taken to the funeral home, the grind of canvassing witnesses began.

Lin Yan and Fang Xin returned with samples for lab tests. Zheng Chengrui sat down to review CCTV.

Song Yuhang, meanwhile, wandered the park, at least outwardly.

It was past ten, night cooling. The park, once bustling, was emptying.

Lotus Pond Park was small, newly built, open 24 hours, always crowded. Good for leisure, bad for police work. Also meant dumping a body here was risky.

If it were her, she’d never pick this spot—too exposed. Sooner or later, the case would crack.

Leaning on the bridge rail, she looked down at the spot. The reeds nearby had been trampled by the first responders. She walked down.

Her first impression of the corpse: too clean.

These days, people always carried ID, money, phones—especially women, who’d also have jewelry.

Even modest Fang Xin wore earrings or bracelets. Lin Yan flaunted a Rolex.

Yet the victim had nothing.

She pushed through the reeds with her flashlight. Robbery? But why bag the body? Robbers usually left marks of a struggle.

Maybe someone she knew? What was the motive?

Dew dampened her pants. She swept her light around. This secluded spot, no cameras, overhanging willow branches—perfect blind spot.

She crouched, hands in the mud, searching inch by inch.

No crime scene is perfect.

If this was the dump site, something must remain.

Sure enough, just as her phone rang, her fingers closed around a ring in the muck. She held it up to the beam—plain silver, smooth, with only a small engraved letter inside: “S.”

She bagged it carefully, took off her gloves, and answered.
“Hello?”

Lin Yan cleared her throat.
“We found the victim’s family.”