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Old Rules
墨書 Inktalez
Chapter One: Beyond the Unexpected
If you were to ask me, a young forensic expert who has spent a few years at the provincial forensic center and considers myself quite competent, how I suddenly found myself parachuted into such a... well, even the term "remote" doesn't do justice to the rustic atmosphere of this small county police station, I'd say it's quite simple—it's all about a "hot potato."
A long-standing cold case under provincial supervision had made significant progress, requiring a large number of personnel to recheck the evidence chain, leaving our center nearly depleted. Just at that moment, an incident occurred in a place called Luoshui County—a rather prominent elder had "unexpectedly" passed away in his home.
Logically speaking, such matters should be handled by the County Bureau itself. However, the problem was that this elder had a somewhat special identity, with considerable connections and influence. It was also said that he had some unresolved disputes with others during his lifetime. The family was emotionally charged and had some "thoughts" about the conclusion of "accident," revealing their distrust.
The City Bureau likely didn't want to stir up trouble and simply couldn't spare any manpower. Our director took one look and said, "Hey, Xiao Qin, you happen to be free, right? You're young and skilled; go lend a hand. Think of it as gaining experience."
Thus, I was sent for "grassroots training."
Before I left, the director patted me on the shoulder and said earnestly, "Xiao Qin, even though Luoshui County is small, the work is the same. Do your best and pay attention to learning from the older colleagues there. Especially Teacher Fang; he’s experienced and you should consult him often."
What could I say? Inside my mind, a hundred little voices were complaining while I wore my standard smile of "I will complete the task." So, I packed my things and set off. To be honest, I had some confidence in my professional abilities; after all, it was just an accidental death—how complicated could it be? I thought it would just be a formality before returning quickly.
After spending most of the day on the road, my backside felt like it was being crushed into eight pieces by the time I finally arrived at Luoshui County. My first impression of this place was... slow—really slow. It felt as if someone had pressed the slow-motion button on time; elderly folks strolled leisurely down the street, stray dogs napped by the roadside, and even the sunlight seemed lazy without a hint of the urgency found in provincial capitals.
The County Bureau was an old grayish-white building with two stone lions at the entrance that looked weathered and worn down by time. The Criminal Investigation Team's Captain Zhao came out to greet me; he appeared to be around fifty years old but later I learned he was just in his early forties. His eye bags sagged heavily, etched with fatigue, yet his handshake nearly crushed my fingers.
"Ah! Forensic Expert Qin! We've been looking forward to your arrival! It's been quite a journey for you!" Captain Zhao's enthusiasm carried a hint of cautious politeness mixed with an underlying sentiment of "our little temple needs to trouble you, this great Buddha." I guessed they were probably hoping for an experienced old forensic doctor instead of me—a rookie.
"You're too kind, Captain Zhao. Just call me Xiao Qin," I quickly lowered my stance. When you're under someone else's roof temporarily, you can't act too high-and-mighty.
The office was filled with a mix of cigarette smoke and the musty scent of old documents. Captain Zhao poured me a cup of bitter tea and got straight to the point.
"The deceased is Zhou Dahai, seventy-three years old—a retired official who used to hold a significant position in the county. He was... well-liked and respected," Captain Zhao handed me a crumpled scene investigation report. "Yesterday afternoon, his youngest daughter came home and found him collapsed in the living room; he had hit his head on the corner of the coffee table and was already cold."
I took it and quickly scanned through it. The scene photos were relatively clear—typical of an indoor fall incident. The living room wasn't large; furniture was somewhat cramped with a dark wooden coffee table featuring sharp edges. The deceased's position on the floor seemed consistent with falling characteristics. The investigation records noted that doors and windows were intact with no signs of disturbance or struggle.
"Where are the main doubts from the family?" I asked.
Captain Zhao took a sip of tea, his brow furrowing into a knot. "Well, what else could it be? They just can't understand how the old man, who seemed to be in good health and had no trouble walking, could fall so conveniently and just... be gone? Plus, there’s been some trouble with the neighbors over that land dispute back home; they had a pretty heated argument just a couple of days ago. The family suspects that maybe Brother Wang did something..."
He paused, spreading his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "But we've searched the scene thoroughly and found no evidence that anyone else had been there. We also questioned Brother Wang, and he has an alibi. So for now, the preliminary conclusion is still an accident."
"Where is the body now?"
"In the Forensic Room. Teacher Fang has already conducted a preliminary external examination." Captain Zhao lowered his voice slightly when mentioning Teacher Fang, showing genuine respect. "Teacher Fang said that at first glance, there doesn’t seem to be any major issues."
"Teacher Fang?" I repeated the title in my mind; the director had specifically mentioned him.
"Yes, Fang Huai'an, Teacher Fang." Captain Zhao explained. "He’s our old forensic doctor at the bureau, nearing retirement after over thirty years of service. In all of Luoshui County, there's no one he doesn't know, and no one who doesn't respect him. His experience is absolutely extensive!"
I nodded without speaking. Yet internally, I wondered—after more than thirty years as an old forensic doctor, while his experience was undoubtedly rich, could it also lead to... rigid thinking? Or perhaps path dependence?
"However, since you're here, we would appreciate it if you could take another look and give your input. After all, having an expert from the provincial department makes us feel more secure," Captain Zhao added with a smile.
While his words sounded polite, I couldn't shake off the feeling that something felt off. Did he genuinely believe I could discern something, or was this merely a formality to placate the family? Never mind; getting the job done was what mattered.
The Forensic Room was located in a row of unremarkable small bungalows behind the office building, with peeling paint on the walls. Pushing open the creaky wooden door released a strong smell of disinfectant mixed with a faint hint of formaldehyde and an indescribable stale odor that belonged to time and death.
The room was small—one might even say cramped. In the center stood a stainless steel autopsy table glinting under harsh white lights, covered by a white cloth that formed a human silhouette beneath it. An elderly man wearing a slightly yellowed white coat and impeccably combed gray hair stood with his back to us, reading a document in his hands. He stood straight as an old pine tree rooted for many years.
"Teacher Fang, the provincial department's Qin Forensic Expert has arrived," Captain Zhao announced from the doorway, his tone even more respectful than before.
The old man turned slowly at the sound of his voice.
Wow, what an aura he had.
He was probably in his sixties, not very tall, and quite thin, but his back was straight as an arrow. His face was lined with deep creases, bearing the marks of time, yet those eyes, hidden behind reading glasses, were astonishingly sharp, like an eagle's, scrutinizing me intently. That gaze lingered on my face for a full five seconds, as if trying to see through me and weigh my worth. I felt as if I had been scanned by an X-ray, my heartbeat inexplicably missing a beat.
“Xiao Qin, Forensic Expert, right? Hard work,” he said, his voice low and slightly hoarse, but each word carried an undeniable steadiness.
“Hello, Teacher Fang. Just call me Xiao Qin,” I quickly stepped forward and slightly bowed. The pressure from his gaze was far greater than I had imagined.
“Hmm,” he responded lightly, turning to the autopsy table and gesturing, “Take a look.”
Captain Zhao wisely found an excuse about having “things to do in the team” and slipped away, casting me a knowing glance that seemed to say “Learn well from Teacher Fang.”
In the vast Forensic Room, it was suddenly just me and Teacher Fang, along with the cold body on the autopsy table. The air seemed to freeze, with only the low hum of the overhead fan breaking the oppressive silence.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. I put on rubber gloves and a medical mask before stepping up to the autopsy table. I couldn’t let his aura affect my judgment; I was here to work.
Fang Huai'an reached out and pulled back the white cloth.
The deceased Zhou Dahai's face appeared relatively peaceful, though his complexion was ashen. There was a noticeable impact injury near the right temple; the wound wasn’t large but showed signs of skin abrasions and tissue contusions around its edges. The surrounding skin had turned a purplish hue due to subcutaneous bleeding.
“Preliminary assessment at the scene suggests accidental slip and fall, striking the corner of the coffee table in the living room,” Fang Huai'an stated beside me in a tone almost devoid of emotion. “I’ve reviewed the CT scan; there’s a linear fracture in the right temporal bone accompanied by a subdural hematoma. The amount of bleeding is sufficient to be fatal.”
I nodded in acknowledgment. This information aligned with what Captain Zhao had said. I began a systematic external examination; this was standard procedure and my habit. I had confidence in my training over these past few years—details determine success or failure, especially in forensic work.
I meticulously examined from head to toe, inch by inch: hair, behind the ears, neck, torso, limbs… It’s common for elderly individuals to have some old scars or age spots; all these needed to be identified and recorded. The examination proceeded smoothly; aside from the fatal injury at the temple and some minor abrasions on the elbows and knees consistent with a fall, there didn’t seem to be any other noteworthy fresh injuries.
Until my fingers brushed against the area where the deceased's left arm connected at the shoulder; an unusual sensation made me pause. The texture of that patch of skin felt distinctly different from elsewhere—slightly hard and resilient.
Just below the left shoulder joint, near the outer upper arm—what we commonly refer to as “the armpit”—I felt a small area of subcutaneous bruising beneath the skin. This bruise was dark purple in color but oddly enough, its edges were not as clearly defined as typical bruises formed from impacts; instead, they appeared somewhat blurred. I held my breath; without careful palpation, it would be easy to overlook this just by visual inspection.
Images from textbooks flashed through my mind—pictures of strangulation marks or grip injuries—those types of subcutaneous bleeding caused by sustained pressure from fingers or palms often exhibit such indistinct edges with darker centers.
"Mm?" I paused, furrowing my brow as I pressed my fingertip repeatedly on the area. Something felt off. The bruising from a fall typically has a more concentrated impact with clearer edges, but this area... the pressure points seemed more dispersed, almost like...
"What's wrong?" Fang Huai'an's voice suddenly cut in beside me, sharp and piercing, startling me. I hadn't noticed when he had come closer; he leaned down to examine the area I was checking, his gaze intense behind his glasses.
"Teacher Fang, look here." I pointed to the dark purple area beneath the skin, trying to keep my voice steady and objective, though my heart raced uncontrollably. "This bruise, its location... and shape, doesn't it seem a bit strange?"
Fang Huai'an leaned in closer, his sharp eyes scanning the bruise twice. His expression remained unchanged, calm as still water.
"Oh, you're talking about this," he straightened up, his tone as casual as if he were commenting on the weather. "For older people, blood vessels become more fragile and subcutaneous fat decreases. A slight impact can easily cause subcutaneous bleeding. When someone falls and loses balance, their arm or shoulder might hit the ground, a corner, or a piece of furniture, resulting in this kind of bruise. It's quite common."
His explanation sounded flawless and entirely reasonable. During a fall, limbs could indeed strike any surface.
However... an alarm was ringing loudly in my mind. The location! It was too awkward! The outer side of the upper arm towards the back—unless it was an extremely unusual fall position, it would be hard to hit directly there. Moreover, the sensation under my fingertip—the way the pressure was distributed...
"But, Teacher Fang," I hesitated before finally voicing my doubts through clenched teeth, lowering my voice instinctively as I felt sweat forming in my palms. "In a fall, the impact points are usually on the shoulder or elbow, right? This location... and the shape of this bruise seems... its edges aren't particularly regular; it looks more like... like multiple fingertip impressions made by pressing down hard."
As I spoke these words, my heart raced. I knew this was merely speculation without decisive evidence. Yet professionally, I couldn't ignore it.
After hearing me out, Fang Huai'an leaned down again. This time he extended his gloved fingers and pressed slowly on the bruised area with an evaluative intent, lingering slightly longer than he had on other parts. Then he stood up straight, removed his glasses, and slowly wiped them with a clean piece of gauze while looking at me with those sharp eyes—deep and inscrutable but carrying an invisible weight.
"Xiao Qin," he suddenly spoke up, his tone carrying a kind of almost pitying scrutiny from an elder to a younger person. "You've just started working not long ago, right?"
"Uh... it's been a few years." His question caught me off guard; it felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over me. Was he questioning my professional competence?
"Heh, a few years..." He put his glasses back on, a barely perceptible smirk playing at the corners of his mouth that hinted at something deeper. "Experience can sometimes be more useful than all those rules in textbooks. After death, blood dynamics change; capillary permeability also alters. The position of the body and gravitational settling can affect how subcutaneous bruising ultimately appears, making it less 'typical.' Especially in older individuals whose skin is loose and subcutaneous tissue is sparse—this situation is even more likely to occur. What you perceive as fingerprints might just be an illusion caused by angle and light or an overlap of livor mortis and bruising."
He paused for a moment before stepping slightly closer to me. His voice remained low but carried an undeniable authority. "As forensic experts pursuing truth, we must be rigorous and meticulous—that's correct. But we shouldn't get stuck in our own heads; we can't let family doubts lead us to jump to conclusions based on ambiguous evidence suggesting foul play. Young people sometimes see things too 'clearly,' which may not be good for you or others. Ultimately, all judgments should rely on the overall evidence chain—whether there are clear fatal injuries and whether the scene supports them."
His final words—"seeing too clearly may not be good"—pierced my ears like a needle. Was this advice born from experience? Or was it a warning?
I opened my mouth, feeling a tightness in my throat, and all the words I had were blocked by his remark, "Not necessarily a good thing." Countless thoughts raced through my mind: textbook cases, the teacher's teachings, the undeniable doubts present on the corpse, and the inscrutable gaze of the Old Forensic Doctor before me, along with his cryptic statement. How could I refute him? My evidence was insufficient; it was merely suspicion. Yet he had thirty years of "experience," local "authority," and that chilling implication.
At that moment, I felt an unprecedented sense of defeat and powerlessness. My professional judgment seemed worthless here and could even lead to trouble. I tried to speak up, "But Teacher Fang, I think..."
"Enough," Fang Huai'an interrupted, waving his hand with a tone that carried an undeniable weariness, as if my insistence was nothing more than childish stubbornness. He continued without letting me finish, "Since there are no other obvious suspicious findings, we can conclude preliminarily that the deceased Zhou Dahai died from cranial injuries due to an accidental fall."
He did not look at me again but turned to organize the dissection tools on the nearby cart, producing a faint and rhythmic sound of metal clinking that echoed harshly in the quiet Forensic Room. It felt as if our earlier discussion about the bruising was merely an inconsequential aside—a young man's immature question—now completely dismissed by him. To him, this matter was already settled.
I stood there like a fool, staring at Zhou Dahai's pale face on the autopsy table, my gaze involuntarily drifting to the inconspicuous dark purple skin on his left shoulder. The thorn in my heart—the lingering doubt—did not dissipate with Fang Huai'an's "authoritative answer." Instead, it flared up like oil on fire, burning in my chest while being suppressed by an invisible force that rendered me immobile.
Had I truly misjudged? Was it my lack of experience? Was I being overly stubborn? Or... I dared not think further.
The subsequent autopsy process became almost a personal showcase for Fang Huai'an. He took the lead while I assisted with instruments, recorded notes, and took photographs. I mechanically followed his instructions while my mind remained chaotic. His techniques were indeed extremely skilled and precise; every step exuded an undeniable confidence. He conducted meticulous examinations and measurements of the wound shape on the forehead, the direction of skull fractures, and the extent and volume of subdural hematomas. His conclusions perfectly aligned with his earlier preliminary judgment, seamlessly validating the idea of "accidental fall." Throughout the process, he did not mention that bruise again; he didn't even glance in that direction as if that patch of skin was no different from any other part of the corpse.
This silence suffocated me more than any argument could.
After the autopsy concluded, shedding the heavy lead apron and lab coat left me feeling somewhat stiff—not just from fatigue but from an indescribable sense of frustration pressing down on my chest like a heavy stone, making it hard to breathe.
Pushing open the heavy door of the Forensic Room, the afternoon sunlight outside dazzled my eyes. Captain Zhao was indeed waiting at the door with an anxious expression. Upon seeing us emerge, he quickly extinguished his cigarette and approached us.
"Teacher Fang, Qin Forensic Expert, how did it go? Is there a conclusion?"
Fang Huai'an did not pause his steps but cast a brief glance at me before addressing Captain Zhao in his steady tone. "Yes, no issues. I've carefully cross-checked with Xiao Qin Forensic Expert; all indicators align with death from cranial injuries due to an accidental fall. I'll compile the detailed autopsy report and get it out soon."
"Cross-checked?" A cold laugh echoed in my mind while my face could only muster a stiff expression. Hearing this, Captain Zhao's furrowed brow instantly relaxed as he let out a long sigh of relief, revealing a smile of reassurance. "That's good! That's good! Now we can finally give the family a clear explanation! Thank you for your hard work, Teacher Fang! And thank you too, Qin Forensic Expert!"
I stood half a step behind Fang Huai'an during their exchange, feeling like a marionette with no strength left to argue back. What could I say? That I disagreed? That this revered Old Forensic Doctor might be lying? Who would believe me? I'd probably be labeled as insane or a troublemaker right away.
All I could do was remain silent, accepting Fang Huai'an's assertion along with my own incompetence and... cowardice.
"Alright! Qin Forensic Expert, let me take you to the guesthouse to get settled. It must have been exhausting to come all this way," Captain Zhao greeted me warmly, his attitude noticeably friendlier than before, perhaps relieved that this "troublesome matter" was finally resolved.
I nodded and mechanically followed him outside. As we reached the door of the Forensic Room, I couldn't help but glance back.
Fang Huai'an did not enter immediately; instead, he stood in the shadow of the small building, facing away from the setting sun. The last rays of sunlight framed his gray hair with a golden edge, highlighting the deep wrinkles etched on his face.
At that moment, I saw him take out his phone and press it to his ear, seemingly answering a call. He lowered his voice, but I still caught a few fragmented words carried by the wind:
"... Yes, the one from the provincial office... has seen it... Right, according to Old Rules... Don't worry, it's been handled cleanly..."
My blood ran cold in an instant!
Old Rules? Handled cleanly? Handled what?!
I quickly turned back, pretending to be nonchalant as I continued walking with Captain Zhao, but my heart was pounding wildly in my chest, and a cold sweat broke out on my back.
Fang Huai'an's calm gaze earlier, his warning that "seeing too clearly may not be a good thing," and this vague yet information-laden phone call...
All these pieces connected in my mind, leading me to a chilling conclusion—
Zhou Dahai's death was definitely not as simple as an accident!
And this esteemed and experienced Teacher Fang in Luoshui County... what role was he playing? What exactly were these so-called "Old Rules"?
The waters of Luoshui County were not just murky; they were an unfathomable abyss! And it seemed I had stepped right into it.
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