Silent Witness - Chapter 7

Granny Qiu’s Grocery was located in an old-fashioned residential building facing the street behind the Public Security Bureau. The front room on the ground floor served as the shop, with a kitchen, bathroom, and a small bedroom originally used for storage at the back. Qiu Wan, concerned about her maternal grandma’s difficulty climbing stairs, cleared out the bedroom and furnished it as a room for the elderly. Qiu Wan herself lived on the second floor, where her bedroom adjoined a study. The living room was bright and airy, with a spacious balcony overflowing with various flowers and plants.

Qiu Wan, dressed in a white tank top and black shorts, her long hair draped over her shoulders, sat expressionlessly behind the counter, her cheeks flushed from sleep. She walked around the counter and settled into the bamboo chair behind the cash register.

“Can I pay with WeChat?” Cheng Yingqiu asked, holding up a bottle of chilled soda water, her expression mirroring Qiu Wan’s.

“Cash only,” Qiu Wan replied. Although WeChat Pay had officially launched a couple of years earlier, most merchants, including Qiu Wan’s maternal grandma, were wary of security concerns and hadn’t adopted it.

Cheng Yingqiu fished a five-yuan note from her crossbody bag and handed it to her self-proclaimed nemesis.

Qiu Wan took the bill, opened the drawer, and put it inside. She grabbed two coins and was about to look up when Cheng Yingqiu’s clear, well-articulated voice floated over: “No coins, they’re easy to lose.” Without a hint of impatience, she cheerfully exchanged them for a one-yuan bill and two fifty-cent bills. As soon as she reached out, the change was snatched away. Before she could react, the door curtain rustled softly, and the girl with pigtails had vanished without a trace.

Strange… who could have upset her?

Cheng Yingqiu slipped out of Granny Qiu’s Grocery, caught her breath, and tilted her head back to gulp down half a bottle of water. It was nearly noon, and the scorching sun baked the ground. She shielded her forehead with one hand and quickened her pace, cutting through the residential complex from the north gate to Building 2 on the south side. She squeezed into the elevator just before the sliding doors closed.

The other elevator was under maintenance, so missing this one would mean waiting at least three minutes. As the elevator ascended, Cheng Yingqiu habitually checked her WeChat messages. As a journalist, she needed to stay constantly alert, her phone never far from her side.

Xiao Cheng, the colleague from our department who liaised with the Major Crimes Unit finished her resignation procedures yesterday. You’ll be taking over her duties.

Cheng Yingqiu replied casually: Oh, okay.

I’ll forward you the Captain’s WeChat contact.

Captain? Why do I need the captain for something this simple? Cheng Yingqiu was still reeling from the shock when Qiu Wan’s contact card appeared in the chat.

Sister Dong, can’t someone else handle this? I’m really busy lately, she typed, then deleted the entire message. Rubbing her throbbing Taiyang Point, she retyped: Okay (smile)

Okay? Okay my ass. Cheng Yingqiu clicked on the contact card with a grimace. The woman’s WeChat name was straightforward: Qiu Wan. Her profile picture showed a woman standing sideways against an autumn backdrop, hands in her pockets, gazing up at the golden sky with confidence and ease.

Not bad figure, Cheng Yingqiu thought, her only positive assessment.

The July 13th murder case has been closed and officially transferred to the prosecutor’s office the day before yesterday. Remember to coordinate an interview time with Team Leader Qiu and aim to finish editing by the end of the month for broadcast next month, the message from Puchen Television Station read. Last year, the station launched a weekly legal affairs program, adopting a novel case-recording format to promote legal awareness.

Understood. I’ll add her on WeChat right away, Cheng Yingqiu replied, clicking “Add to Contacts” and sending a friend request with the message: Team Leader Qiu, hello. I’m Cheng Yingqiu, a legal affairs reporter from the television station. She gritted her teeth as she sent the request, shoved her phone into her pocket, and stepped out of the elevator.

It was two o’clock in the afternoon at the Technical Unit office. With all their tasks completed, Li Hewei dismissed her team to go home and await further instructions. She remained at her workstation, keeping Tao Ling and An Yu company as they worked overtime.

Each member focused on their respective duties. Perhaps while the crime scene investigators were busy, the two forensic pathologists could afford to relax slightly.

After completing two rounds of Happy Match and finally passing level 200, Li Hewei set her phone aside with satisfaction and stared intently at her computer screen, lost in thought.

The deceased was approximately 30 years old, 178 cm tall, and had been dead for about seven days. Logically, his family would have reported him missing, and after screening by the Major Crimes Unit, his identity should have been quickly established. Yet five hours had passed with no leads. Li Hewei clicked the WeChat icon in the lower right corner and couldn’t resist sending a message:

Team Leader Qiu, any progress on the screening?

No match for Puchen. We’re requesting assistance from upstream cities.

This is tricky. I’ll keep thinking of solutions.

The body was in a state of advanced decomposition, its face swollen beyond recognition. Tao Ling had used the “exploded fingerprint” method to obtain the victim’s fingerprints, but a database search yielded no results.

So, how could they reconstruct his face?

Li Hewei pondered deeply, retrieving the deceased’s frontal photograph and skull X-rays. She tried to imagine his normal appearance, measuring the distances between his eyes, nose, mouth, eyebrows, and hairline, recording the key measurements before putting pen to paper.

High cheekbones, deep-set eye sockets, thick hair, low hairline.

Time ticked by as she completed three sketches in succession, each with distinct features, yet all still showed varying degrees of facial swelling.

Forensic artists rely on a profound understanding of facial anatomy, logical reasoning, and extensive experience. Li Hewei frowned deeply. Having only been practicing forensic art for half a month, where would she gain such experience? Though she diligently locked herself in her workshop for two to three hours every night, it felt like a drop in the bucket. Simple missing person cases or identifying theft suspects based on witness testimony might be manageable, but cases like this—with no leads and requiring expert analysis—were truly challenging.

A wave of intense frustration washed over her.

Li Hewei had always been a quick learner, mastering new skills with ease whenever she put her mind to it. This was the first time she felt utterly helpless.

“Sister Wei?” Tao Ling had changed and entered the office five minutes earlier, finding Li Hewei propping her head with her left hand, eyes closed in deep thought. She had quietly returned to her desk to wait. Now, seeing the urgency of the hour, she softly called out.

Li Hewei opened her eyes. “Hmm? What time is it?”

“4:30.”

“Let’s go.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, pushed back her chair, and stood up. “Where’s An Yu?”

“Changing.”

After seeing An Yu off, Tao Ling lowered her head to scroll through her contacts, searching for a rideshare driver. She spoke gently, “Sister Wei, we can rideshare back. It’s only 25 yuan per person from Puchen to Muqing.”

“I’ll drive.”

“Huh?” Tao Ling thought she had misheard. She remembered Li Hewei’s car accident last year, when she rear-ended a car on the highway, fracturing her left arm and requiring six months of recovery. She hadn’t seen Li Hewei drive since.

Li Hewei turned into the parking lot and found a space. “What’s wrong?”

Tao Ling asked anxiously, “Are you sure you can?”

“I’ve been driving for five years. Why wouldn’t I be able to?” In truth, she had been driving for ten years, having once raced her own Tank 500 across grasslands and deserts. The original owner’s Volkswagen Beetle felt like a waste of her skills.

“Oh.” Tao Ling, still uneasy, followed her into the car and quickly fastened her seatbelt.

“Home address?” Li Hewei asked, fastening her seatbelt.

“Sent it on WeChat.”

Li Hewei connected the navigation system, shifted into drive, and pressed the accelerator. The Beetle pulled out of the parking lot.

The Beetle 2.0T high-spec model had ample power. Following the navigation, she bypassed the city ring road and soon entered the highway. Li Hewei glanced sideways and noticed the girl beside her gripping the overhead grab handle with her right hand, her lips pressed tightly together, her entire body tense.

Why so nervous?

A mischievous impulse struck Li Hewei. She pressed down on the accelerator, and the Beetle surged forward, reaching 100, 108, 114 kilometers per hour. Maintaining control of the speed, she swerved left, accelerated past the car ahead, and then merged back into the right lane. In just five minutes, within the 120 km/h speed limit zone, she had overtaken four vehicles. Li Hewei caught a glimpse of Tao Ling’s nose, which seemed to be beaded with a thin layer of sweat, and her left hand had also gripped the grab handle.

Clearly, Tao Ling hadn’t taken the “just say what’s on your mind” advice to heart. She was waiting for Li Hewei to make the first move.

Continuing to overtake cars, three minutes later, Tao Ling coughed softly from the right, her voice hoarse: “Sister Wei, slow down a bit.”

Li Hewei’s lips curved into a slight smile. “Alright.” She eased off the accelerator, maintaining a safe distance behind the car ahead.