Chapter 5: The Rooftop Investigation

 

All eyes turned toward her. Heat crept up Zhen Nuan's neck as she realized she'd interrupted her superior mid-sentence.

Yan Han tilted his head slightly, meeting her gaze with an expression that remained neutral for a heartbeat before softening into a slow smile. From her vantage point, his gray scarf obscured everything below his nose, leaving only those striking peach blossom eyes visible—curved and gleaming with an almost electric intensity.

The sensation that shot through her felt startlingly like a current. She dropped her gaze quickly.

To her surprise, Yan Han seemed pleased by the interruption. He extended his left hand in an elegant, sweeping gesture. "Crime Lab pathology researcher Zhen Nuan—please share your findings with everyone."

---

When the team descended to ground level, Jiang Xiao's body remained where it had fallen, the doctor having already confirmed death.

Zhen Nuan crouched low and lifted the white sheet covering the deceased's feet. "Notice the mud splatter patterns on the shoe soles—deposited after impact. More significantly, there's mud embedded in the heel grooves, mixed with colorful confetti fragments."

She carefully replaced the covering before continuing.

"We can't yet confirm whether this confetti originated from the seventh-floor room, but these are new shoes, and it just rained. There wouldn't be wet mud before entering the hotel, and certainly none inside. The rooftop seems the most probable source. Our trace examiner will collect samples for testing and comparison to verify."

Dong Sisi frowned. "Why couldn't the mud have splashed up during the fall itself?"

"The splatter volume wasn't sufficient to embed confetti particles into that pattern. The sequence indicates the deceased walked through the confetti area first, then stepped in mud afterward."

Skepticism still clouded Dong Sisi's features. "But what if she fell heel-first? The impact force would be tremendous—easily enough to drive her heels into the mud."

Several onlookers nodded in agreement. Multiple muddy tire tracks scarred the cement near where the body lay.

The north wind howled past them. Without a scarf, Zhen Nuan hunched her shoulders against the bite of cold air. She shook her head with quiet conviction.

"No. She couldn't possibly have landed heel-first."

She drew a deep breath, watching it fog in the frigid air until her vision misted. Still crouching, she looked up at the assembled group.

"When heels make initial impact, the enormous force triggers a chain reaction of fractures traveling upward through the body. The shock wave rushes from the leg bones through the spine and ultimately to the skull. Severe cases result in compound fractures throughout the body. In less extreme scenarios, the most characteristic injury is a foramen magnum fracture."

She paused, exhaling slowly. Seeing confusion on Dong Sisi's face and others, she clarified: "The foramen magnum is located at the skull's base—the junction point where brain and cervical spine connect."

Rising to her feet, Zhen Nuan shifted her weight onto the balls of her feet, then drove down hard through her heels, demonstrating with an emphatic jump. "Does that make sense?"

The unexpectedly childlike demonstration—her sudden, ungainly leap—startled the two men standing nearest.

The demonstration proved more visceral than intended. When her heels struck concrete, force radiated upward, tugging at muscles and bone at the base of her skull until her ears throbbed as though twisted. She hissed softly, reflexively rubbing both ears and the back of her head.

Yan Han glanced her way. "Impressive. Quite endearing, actually."

"..."

Embarrassment washed over Zhen Nuan. The demonstration now seemed unnecessarily theatrical.

Shen Zetian observed her with newfound interest, while something resembling displeasure flickered across Dong Sisi's expression.

The jump had loosened her hair, sending several strands tumbling around her temples. Ignoring them, Zhen Nuan pressed forward with professional focus.

"As I demonstrated, heel impact drives force upward. However, my preliminary examination reveals the deceased sustained none of the characteristic fracture patterns I described. Furthermore—" she gestured toward the victim's head, "—the injury pattern indicates cranial impact as the primary point of contact. This strongly suggests the victim was inverted during the fall, or at minimum in a horizontal position—certainly not upright. Naturally, the autopsy will provide definitive answers."

Understanding dawned on the observers' faces.

"Autopsy? You mean dissection?" Shen Zetian's voice carried an edge.

"Correct."

"I object. Jiang Xiao treasured her appearance. She would never consent to being cut open."

Zhen Nuan pressed her lips together, keeping her voice gentle but firm. "I'm sorry, but as an ex-boyfriend, you lack legal standing to make such demands. Moreover, in criminal investigations, family approval isn't required for court-ordered autopsies."

Shen Zetian's eyebrows lifted slightly. He leaned down, accommodating their height difference, his smile sharpening. "Understood. I'll defer to your expertise."

The sudden proximity of his enlarged features caught Zhen Nuan off-guard. She retreated a step, creating distance as uncertainty and surprise flashed through her amber eyes.

His lips curled with satisfaction at her reaction.

Dong Sisi witnessed the entire exchange, her face carefully expressionless. "Since when are suicides classified as criminal cases?"

Zhen Nuan remained silent. Yan Han interjected smoothly. "Whether this qualifies as suicide remains under investigation. For now, please cooperate with our documentation process."

The pair departed.

Yan Han tracked their retreating figures briefly before addressing Guan Xiaoyu in a low voice: "Shoes." Then to Brother Tan, another criminal investigator: "Shoes."

Identical instructions, yet both men understood perfectly. They flashed "OK" gestures and hurried off.

Years of collaboration had forged an understanding among the criminal investigation team that outsiders couldn't penetrate.

After the trace examiner completed evidence collection at the impact site, officers transported Jiang Xiao's body away.

Zhen Nuan prepared to follow, but Yan Han redirected her. "We're heading to the roof for examination."

Confusion rippled through her. Pathology was her domain—detailed scene reconnaissance fell outside her responsibilities. Still, challenging her superior seemed unwise. She fell into step with the team ascending the stairs.

The north wind howled with even greater ferocity on the rooftop.

Zhen Nuan shivered violently, teeth chattering audibly.

She'd forgotten to retrieve her scarf before coming downstairs. Wind knifed through her exposed neck, plunging down to her core. She wished desperately that she could retract her head turtle-like into her shoulders.

The drizzle had ceased, but dampness saturated everything.

The safety railing stood approximately one meter high—meeting code requirements with a half-meter concrete base supporting a half-meter aluminum alloy fence. One section hung broken. Nearby sprawled an open-air flower bed stretching four or five meters across. Winter had withered the plantings, now shrouded beneath protective plastic sheeting.

Desiccated branches lay scattered everywhere. Footprints created chaotic patterns across the plastic surface.

Activity buzzed around her.

Since this exceeded her professional scope, Zhen Nuan's attention wandered. She stood with hands thrust deep in her pockets, gaze roaming aimlessly, thoughts drifting.

Yan Han crouched beside the drain near the flower bed, conducting his inspection. He requested someone extract the filter. When he glanced up, he found her standing vacant and distracted. He crooked one finger, summoning her with notable coolness in his voice. "Zhen Nuan."

"Hmm?" Her focus snapped back instantly.

"Come here."

She trotted over obediently, posture attentive as though awaiting orders.

Yan Han straightened, suddenly looming half a head taller, his frame blocking a portion of the bitter wind. He shifted sideways, making space for the colleague examining the drainage system.

"Do you understand why I brought you up here?" His voice matched the wind's temperature.

Zhen Nuan shook her head, sensing impending criticism.

"When I first joined the criminal police force, Senior Forensic Examiner Zheng Rong accompanied us to every scene. It extended his already demanding hours considerably. Some colleagues questioned his excessive involvement."

Cold had drained color from Zhen Nuan's face. She hunched her neck, looking up at him.

"Following a traffic fatality, he refused to rely solely on photographs. He insisted on personally inspecting the vehicle at the accident site. He explained that analyzing vehicle damage in situ helped him focus his autopsy protocol and reminded him to examine anatomical details he might otherwise overlook. The body provides our most reliable evidence, yet forensic pathologists frequently examine only the remains themselves—and consequently miss crucial context."

Though his tone remained flat, the words struck her with particular force.

"The Crime Lab's exceptional case resolution rate isn't accidental. It stems not merely from technological superiority, but from the dedication of its personnel."

"I expect you to meet the standards set by every colleague in this laboratory," he continued. "Western forensic scientists often carry the title 'pathologist.' Remember your academic training and professional lineage. Remember your responsibilities."

Zhen Nuan's ears rang. Shame heated her face despite the cold.

Her academic career had proceeded smoothly, free from criticism. Now, on her first day in the field, she'd received a pointed correction.

This wasn't about professional competence—it concerned attitude and approach.

Standing on that windswept rooftop, she felt small as an ant, face burning with mortification.

Yet she refused to wallow in humiliation. She recognized immediately that Yan Han was correct. She nodded earnestly. "I apologize. I'll correct this failing."

Her frank acceptance surprised Yan Han somewhat.

He offered no further comment, simply moving past her.

Zhen Nuan smoothed her disheveled hair, gathered her composure, and began observing the scene alongside her colleagues with renewed attentiveness.

---

Darkness gathered as the police prepared to conclude their investigation.

Zhen Nuan rose from the ground, hands and feet thoroughly numbed.

She scanned the rooftop carefully. Yan Han had vanished—likely departed early. Relief loosened something in her chest. His absence eased her nervous tension considerably.

Judging the moment appropriate, Zhen Nuan rubbed her frozen hands together, exhaled a warming breath, and broke into a quick jog. As she entered the stairwell, a figure materialized from the shadows. She bounced backward, colliding with the iron door.

Yan Han leaned against the wall, one hand pocketed, cigarette burning between his fingers.

The door clanged thunderously, the sound reverberating through the enclosed stairwell.

Yan Han tilted his head casually, studying her through the rising smoke with slightly narrowed eyes.

After a prolonged moment, amusement colored his voice. "Am I some kind of ghost?"

Zhen Nuan's eyes widened. Words failed her completely. She could only shake her head mutely.

Yan Han thought to himself—he really had encountered something spectral.

Beyond her distinctive amber eyes, this woman's mannerisms echoed his lost love's with uncanny precision. She startled so easily.

Once, as a teenager, he'd scaled the wall into Xia Shi's bedroom and dozed on her narrow bed. When she'd entered and spotted the figure sprawled there, she'd covered her face and screamed—a sound that echoed throughout the entire bluestone alley.

Zhen Nuan remained frozen for several heartbeats before shaking her head again. "You're not a ghost."

He laughed, attention drifting as his voice lowered gradually. "Your face has gone completely pale."

She blinked, then whispered, "I'm not frightened. Just cold."

He glanced toward her exposed neck, lips quirking slightly. "How foolish. Why didn't you shelter in the stairwell if you were freezing?"

Zhen Nuan remained silent.

Who was it that insisted on bringing me to the rooftop?

Yan Han moved several paces away, gesturing for distance—indicating his cigarette smoke and suggesting she maintain separation. Though Zhen Nuan already stood at a reasonable distance, she retreated several additional steps as directed.

The narrow corridor held dim illumination. Neither spoke for several seconds.

He smoked quietly. She stood observing woodenly.

With the cutting wind excluded, warmth gradually returned to her body—a cozy, almost drowsy comfort.

Without warning, he laughed softly. "Women always seem more vulnerable to cold."

His voice carried a deep, magnetic quality that filled the corridor before dissipating.

Zhen Nuan blinked. "Pardon?"

Yan Han fell silent, head bowed, chest rising and falling subtly. He drew deeply on his cigarette before exhaling with deliberate slowness. Despite the exhalation, his lips pressed together—an inexplicable expression suggesting restraint, even suppression.

Smoke escaped gradually, wreathing his features.

Extended silence followed, accompanied only by the gray sky and howling north wind beyond the cold iron door.

Through the curling smoke and failing daylight, Zhen Nuan glimpsed something unexpected—a flash of bone-deep loneliness crossing his eyes. His gaze went distant for a heartbeat, as though reaching toward something impossibly far away.

For reasons she couldn't articulate, profound sadness welled up within her.

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