The morning mist had yet to clear, and a few rays of pale light slipped through the north window of the Evidence Room at the Yan Cheng Public Security Bureau.
A tall man in a police uniform, draped in a white lab coat, was slowly moving a magnifying glass over the cuff of a blue sweater. The blue-black ink stain shimmered faintly in the morning light. His fingers gently rubbed the fabric, feeling the texture of the fibers.
“Hero brand carbon ink, batch number 4 of 1992.” The man’s voice was deep and resolute.
A young assistant stood nearby, recording everything, the fountain pen in his hand making a soft scratching sound on the notepad.
Jiang Ling and Li Zhenliang had delivered the evidence for the Qian Darong case to the Public Security Bureau early that morning. Now, the two of them stood quietly at the doorway, waiting for the results.
The tall man turned to glance at the window, then raised his hand to adjust the angle of the magnifying glass.
In the morning light, the crystalline form of the ink stain became gradually clearer, revealing an imprint in the shape of a key’s teeth.
Li Zhenliang whispered to Jiang Ling, “Officer Ying is famous as a workaholic in the Forensic Evidence Section of the Bureau. As long as he’s collecting evidence on site, no one dares to disturb him.”
Jiang Ling nodded.
Ying Songmao, Second-Class Superintendent, Deputy Captain of the Technical Unit of Yan Cheng Public Security Bureau’s Criminal Investigation Team, and a renowned forensic expert in Xiang Province—she had heard of him for a long time. In her previous life, she never had the chance to work with him, but she had seen his signature on numerous forensic reports in the archives.
Neat and elegant, with sharp strokes—unforgettable.
It’s just… Ying Songmao’s signature stopped appearing after 2000, for reasons unknown.
Li Zhenliang continued to whisper, “Qian Jianshe has hired the most famous lawyer in the city. They say he’s tough in court. Even though we caught Qian Darong red-handed this time, he’s only fifteen. Only solid evidence can send him to the Juvenile Detention Center.”
Li Zhenliang and Jiang Ling weren’t standing too close, making it hard to whisper, and his voice accidentally grew a bit louder.
Ying Songmao paused in his work and glanced at Li Zhenliang.
It was just a glance, but it made Li Zhenliang shrink his neck and close his mouth in embarrassment.
Jiang Ling, however, felt no pressure at all, her gaze lingering on Ying Songmao’s face.
Her previous understanding of him was limited to report after report, signature after signature.
When she was bored, she’d tried analyzing his handwriting, judging him to be reserved, disciplined, and with a temper. Now, seeing him in person, it was clear he was focused, highly skilled, and meticulous—matching her previous judgment of his character.
The way Ying Songmao just looked at Li Zhenliang also confirmed the “has a temper” part.
In that instant, it was as if time overlapped, connecting the name to the real person—it was… quite interesting.
Ying Songmao met Jiang Ling’s gaze and suddenly spoke, “The ink seeped into the lock core during an impact, forming a unique pattern, which matches the crystalline form on the sweater cuff. It can be confirmed that this sweater was stained with ink when it came into contact with the key.”
Li Zhenliang raised his hand excitedly, “Great! That brat Qian Darong keeps saying the key was given to him by Liang Qiqiao—let’s see how he talks his way out of this now.”
Jiang Ling said, “Thank you.”
Ying Songmao felt Jiang Ling’s gaze was a bit odd.
He spent most of his time in the lab, but because his sister was deaf and mute, he had a strong intuition for people’s feelings.
This girl was clearly only in her early twenties, and he’d never seen her before, yet the way she looked at him was as if meeting an old friend again.
Old friend? Impossible.
Ying Songmao brushed the thought aside and continued examining Qian Darong’s shoes, while the assistant recorded every detail.
Sunlight gradually filled the evidence room, stretching the shadows of the two men long across the floor.
Time ticked by, but Jiang Ling didn’t feel bored at all. She was long accustomed to working alone in the archives, organizing materials, keeping records—no scheming, no disputes, just a peaceful sense of fulfillment.
Li Zhenliang yawned at the side.
Jiang Ling shot him a sidelong glance.
Li Zhenliang thought her expression resembled Ying Songmao’s a little, and couldn’t help but laugh, pointing at her, “You, you—”
“All right.” A report was handed in front of Li Zhenliang.
Li Zhenliang immediately forgot what he wanted to say to Jiang Ling, eagerly taking the report from Ying Songmao, flipping to the last page, and reading the examination results, “Thank you, Officer Ying! With all this evidence, there’s no way Qian Darong can retract his confession.”
Jiang Ling, meanwhile, was looking at the signature at the end of the report.
Yes, Ying Songmao, long time no see.
Inside the Juvenile Court, the atmosphere was tense and solemn.
On the white wall, the slogan “Education, Reform, Salvation” was written. The bailiffs wore badges labeled “Juvenile Justice.” Qian Darong’s seat armrests were wrapped in velvet to prevent self-harm.
Ying Songmao stood at the witness stand, presenting photographs of the evidence to the court.
“Ink stain on the sweater cuff, Hero brand carbon ink from Liang Jiushan’s desk, and residual ink in the key lock core all match.”
“Moss residue on the soles matches the moss under the steps of Building 13.”
“Footprints inside the Liang home have been identified as left by Qian Darong. Judging by the gait marks, he walked on tiptoe, with weight on the front of the foot and light on the heel.”
…
The lawyer presented evidence, producing a torn-up Physiology and Hygiene textbook, claiming Qian Darong had a sexual cognition disorder.
The Prosecutor presented police photos: a stationery box engraved with numbers, a brown hair tie, a yellowed Handwritten Booklet, an iron box containing women’s underwear, a close-up of fabric stained with semen… All of these were found in Qian Darong’s desk.
Witnesses took the stand. Qian Darong’s classmates responded, “Qian Darong harassed Liang Qiqiao multiple times. After being reprimanded by the teacher, he started bullying Liang Jiushan. He even stomped on the Physiology and Hygiene textbook. He said these things weren’t as interesting as the Handwritten Booklet.”
Back and forth, both sides fought fiercely.
As more and more evidence was presented, the lawyer’s face grew increasingly grim.
He had thought that defending Qian Darong, who was under fifteen, would be easy, but hadn’t expected the police and prosecutors to be so thoroughly prepared.
In the end, the Judge pronounced the verdict on the spot, his voice firm and powerful.
“After trial, it is ascertained that the defendant Qian Darong (15 years old), on the night of November 13, 1993, illegally entered the residence of Liang Qiqiao and committed violent threats. His actions constitute attempted rape. Considering the defendant is a minor and has suffered long-term emotional neglect at home, with significant psychological intervention needed, the sentence is lenient by law.
The judgment is as follows:
- Qian Darong is sentenced to two years of re-education through custody (effective from the date of detention).
- Legal guardians Qian Jianshe and Zhao Yanhong are to compensate Liang Qiqiao for medical expenses and emotional damages totaling three thousand eight hundred yuan.
- Qian Jianshe’s employer (Yan Cheng Textile Factory) is ordered to record a major administrative demerit for his conduct.”
Qian Darong sat in the defendant’s seat, his eyes filled with resentment. He suddenly tore open his collar, revealing a scar on his collarbone, and shouted at the Judge.
“My dad locked me outside the door while he was fooling around with women in the warehouse! Those sounds… those sounds are in my head every night! I was only five years old then!”
“My dad can do it, why can’t I?!”
“I’m only fifteen, I just wanted to try—why can’t I?”
The courtroom erupted.
Zhao Yanhong sat in the gallery, trembling all over. The watch in her hand had shattered, but she’d forgotten to take it off. The fragments had cut her wrist, blood slowly seeping out, but she seemed not to feel the pain.
Qian Jianshe slumped in his seat, staring blankly at his son in the defendant’s dock.
Five years old—his son was chubby and cute then. He hadn’t become deputy factory director yet, and often took his son everywhere. Who was he with in the warehouse back then? He couldn’t remember at all.
Back then, he’d left his son outside the small warehouse door, forgetting that there were a dozen old wooden crates piled up outside. The crates’ sharp edges had cut his son. The boy had cried and bled, but he’d been having too much fun inside to hear him.
He regretted it later, bought his son lots of toys to cheer him up, never expecting his son would hold a grudge for so long.
Even when the trial ended, Qian Jianshe sat like a lost soul, old memories flashing through his mind, the pain making it hard to breathe. Only when Zhao Yanhong scratched his face did the pain bring him back to reality.
“Beast! You beast!” Zhao Yanhong screamed hysterically, “Our son’s been sent to the Juvenile Detention Center—two years! Two years! His future is ruined!”
A look of panic and guilt flashed in Qian Jianshe’s eyes. “I… I never thought it would turn out like this.”
Zhao Yanhong turned her head and saw Liang Qiqiao and Liang Jiushan standing up from the audience. She suddenly rushed to Liang Qiqiao’s feet, her face streaked with tears and snot. “Qiqiao, Liang Qiqiao, why won’t you sign a forgiveness letter? I can compensate you, I can give you lots and lots of money, I can send you and your brother abroad—why won’t you forgive us? I beg you, please, just ask the Judge for leniency. Say you and Darong were in love, okay?”
Liang Qiqiao pressed her lips together, silently watching the woman crying for her son.
Liang Jiushan stepped in front of his sister. “He deserves it. Serves him right!”
Liang Qiqiao held her brother’s hand and said, word by word, “I do not forgive.”
Zhao Yanhong’s eyes turned red, nearly crazed. “It’s your fault! You did it on purpose! I know you all don’t believe Darong can change. You set him up, didn’t you?”
A trace of mockery curled at Liang Qiqiao’s lips. Even if she did it on purpose, so what?
The key was left there—no one told him to steal it; the door was right there—no one told him to break in; she was there—no one told him to pounce.
Jiang Ling had said, everything was a test for Qian Darong. Unfortunately, he failed.
Liang Qiqiao ignored the hysterical Zhao Yanhong and walked out of the courtroom with Liang Jiushan.
Jiang Ling had been waiting outside the courtroom the whole time.
When she saw the siblings walk out, she slowly stood up from the bench.
The siblings’ eyes sparkled with grateful, joyful tears.
Liang Qiqiao stood tall, as if a heavy burden had been lifted, feeling lighter than ever. “Officer Jiang, he’s been sent to the Juvenile Detention Center. I did it!”
Liang Jiushan’s eyes curved as he smiled brightly, brimming with the energy of youth. “Thank you, Sister Ling.”
After calling her “Sister Ling,” Liang Jiushan asked carefully, “Can I call you Sister Ling?”
As he spoke, Liang Jiushan blinked. Those beautiful eyes were now free of shadows, clear and affectionate. Only his right hand lingered unconsciously on the second button, betraying his inner nervousness.
Jiang Ling looked at the Liang Jiushan before her—so different from the one in prison—and smiled gently. “You can.”
Liang Jiushan, you’ll never again stain your hands with blood, never again murmur to yourself against the high walls of prison, never again pray, over and over, for another chance at life.
I hope your days ahead are smooth, and that you walk into a bright, happy life.
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