Lan Kwai Fong District, West Building of the Old Gymnasium.
Ever since the new sports complex opened, the old gymnasium had gradually fallen into silence. In winter, its already-forgotten swimming pool became a cold, echoing shell. Even the faint scent of chlorine felt lonely.
Today, its quiet was broken by an accident—a young man found dead in the deep end.
The pool manager reported stiffly that the incident happened in the 25-meter zone. The deceased had paid a 20-yuan deposit and bought a pair of swimming trunks before entering. A girl arrived shortly after. She had barely finished one lap before noticing a shadow drifting at the bottom. She screamed, alerting the lifeguard, who dove in and pulled the man out.
Yan Han crouched by the pool, fingertips grazing the surface. The water was cool, maybe twenty-something degrees. A small thermometer suddenly came into his view—held by Zhen Nuan, who had knelt beside him.
“Twenty-three degrees Celsius,” she murmured, her voice calm as the ripples reflected across her fair face. Her hair fell loosely over her shoulders, swaying slightly with the water’s shimmer.
Yan Han tore his gaze away, rose to his full height, and asked evenly, “Where was the safety officer when the victim died?”
The manager looked uncomfortable. He turned and barked, “Come here!”
A trembling young man stepped forward, no older than twenty, his features refined but his expression frightened.
“College student? Part-time?” Yan Han asked.
The boy nodded, tears threatening. “I—I really couldn’t hold it. I went to the restroom. There was no one in the pool except that man warming up by the water. That’s why I left.”
“Only one safety officer on duty?”
The boy nodded again.
The manager rushed to explain, “Because we have very few visitors lately, so…”
“What about the surveillance?”
“Uh… last time staff moved equipment and damaged the wiring. We haven’t repaired it yet.”
“When was ‘last time’?”
“Last week—no, no… last month.” His voice cracked when he met Yan Han’s cold stare.
Yan Han continued, “Where is the girl who found the body?”
“The police are taking her statement.”
The safety officer suddenly choked up. “When I came back, I saw her climbing out and shouting for help. I jumped in and rescued him. I gave CPR too but… he was already…”
Yan Han looked at Zhen Nuan. “Go check the body.”
The deceased lay at the edge of the pool in swimming trunks.
Zhen Nuan slipped on gloves handed to her by Xiao Song and began the examination, speaking softly yet professionally:
“Young male, slightly thin. Pale red lividity. Skin cold, clammy, slightly sticky.”
She lifted his eyelids. “Slight corneal opacity, dilated pupils, pinpoint hemorrhages in the palpebral conjunctiva.”
Checking nose and mouth: “No foreign matter. No foam. Lips, fingers, toenails—cyanotic.”
The manager and safety officer stared in disbelief. They had assumed she was a timid, youthful girl—certainly not a forensic pathologist who worked with such steady expertise.
Old Bai nudged Tan Ge. “Look at Little Cat. So professional.”
“Obviously,” Tan Ge replied.
“I thought she was just cute and soft-spoken. Didn’t expect her to be so elegant and capable.”
Yan Han’s gaze shifted to her.
She was examining the scalp, supporting the victim’s head, her long hair slipping loose after her hairband fell. She tried to flick it aside with small tilts of her head, gentle and beautiful yet serious—focused, scholarly, and quietly determined.
After checking head, neck, torso, and limbs, she concluded, “No fresh external injuries. The fingerprints on the chest are from post-mortem CPR. Old scars on the wrist—previous suicide attempt.”
Removing her gloves, she told Yan Han, “With no external injuries, poisoning seems unlikely. He didn’t drown—not a wet drowning. More likely dry drowning causing reflexive cardiac arrest. Final confirmation after autopsy.”
Just then, a wail rose outside.
A middle-aged couple was ushered in, barely able to stand. The father held his sobbing wife and broke down himself. “I only went downstairs to buy him apples. Just a moment… I should’ve watched him. He can’t swim. He was grieving his fiancée; he kept attempting suicide… I shouldn’t have left him alone…”
Police questioned gently; the father repeated his grief-stricken account.
Old Bai smiled proudly at Zhen Nuan. “You’re impressive.”
Zhen Nuan frowned. “No conclusion yet. Suicide is likely, but autopsy first.”
Yan Han’s lips curved faintly. “Good. Your attitude’s improved.”
She froze, cheeks flushing with a bashful mix of pride and embarrassment. “Thank you, Captain.”
C-Lab – Third Autopsy Room
The autopsy showed no scalp bleeding, no skull fracture, no visible brain abnormalities.
Heart and lungs showed pinpoint hemorrhages. Blood was dark red and fluid. No foreign material in airway.
Typical of drowning or asphyxiation.
With no strangulation marks and no signs of struggle, homicide by force was unlikely—suicide remained the strongest possibility.
Toxicology later confirmed no poisoning.
C-Lab – First Pathology Laboratory
Cheng Fang and Tan Ge dragged their boss along to “observe” the pathology lab—really just to play with unfamiliar equipment. Researchers continued their work calmly, even answering childish questions.
“What’s that mille-feuille-looking thing?”
“Golgi apparatus.”
“Write that down. Gorky of Haiyan?”
“Same translation, different Gorky. This one’s an Italian cell biologist.”
“Oh… Do you want to eat mille-feuille?”
“…No.”
Xiao Song studied tissue slides. “Meningeal hemorrhage… lung, liver, spleen, kidney congestion and edema.” Then louder, “Teacher, this matches drowning—dry drowning. Vagus nerve reflex, cardiac arrest.”
Cheng Fang asked, “So he probably committed suicide? He couldn’t swim, bought trunks on site, warmed up, jumped when lifeguard left.”
Zhen Nuan stared silently down the microscope. After a moment, she said, “Xiao Song is right, but those aren’t specific drowning markers. We should screen more.”
The room went still.
Timid, quiet Little Cat—disagreeing with a deputy captain? Everyone sneaked glances. She didn’t notice, focused and elegant in her lab coat. Cheng Fang wasn’t offended; he was amused.
Yan Han’s eyes glinted—playful.
After a moment, Zhen Nuan said slowly, “I found something.”
Xiao Song snapped to attention. “What?”
“The myocardial fibers—they’re ruptured and wavy. Interstitial vascular nuclei arranged in palisades.”
“You suspect electrocution?” he blurted.
Everyone’s heads shot up like startled deer. Absolutely adorable.
“No,” she shook her head. “These aren’t unique to electrocution. They appear in myocardial ischemia and ventricular fibrillation too.”
Everyone relaxed.
“Oh,” Xiao Song sighed. “Thought we had something new. So suicide it is.”
But Zhen Nuan remembered Yan Han’s strict principle: Forensic doctors must determine suicide or homicide with evidence.
She glanced up at him through the microscope—something like motivation sparking inside her.
Then quietly, she said, “Still, maybe we can test for electrocution.”
Heads rose again, admiration brightening their eyes.
Cheng Fang laughed. “Zhen Nuan, impressive. Serious and meticulous.”
“Electrocution leaves marks, right?” Old Bai asked. “But underwater… no?”
“Not always,” Xiao Song replied.
Yan Han said calmly, “It depends on physics.”
He leaned against the bench, stirring a glass dish with a glass rod while explaining:
“When electric shock happens underwater, the current spreads. Current density decreases, so I in the heat formula drops. Wet skin has lower resistance, R drops. If the current lasts only seconds, no burn marks. But if it lasts longer—minutes…”
He didn’t finish. Everyone listened, awestruck.
Zhen Nuan felt her own lack of deeper knowledge. When she looked up, Yan Han met her admiring gaze—and immediately looked away.
A few seconds later, she whispered, hesitant, “Um… Captain…”
“Hm?”
“The thing you’re stirring… is my culture medium.”
Yan Han froze. “...Oh. Sorry.”
He let go. The glass rod clinked lightly. He set everything back in its place, cleared his throat. “If you suspect electrocution—not suicide but homicide—find proof on the body.”
“What about contamination from the pool?”
“Someone swam afterward.”
She nodded solemnly.
Xiao Song protested, “But we found no shock marks. No burns, no metallization, no bone pearls. Only asphyxiation and cardiac arrest. How do we confirm electric shock?”
Another researcher added, “And none of the specific electrocution changes appeared. So… shouldn’t we rule it out?”
Zhen Nuan thought a moment, then smiled faintly.
“There’s still another way to confirm it.”
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