The morning mist had yet to lift when a few strands of pale light filtered through the north window of the evidence room at the Yan City Public Security Bureau.
A tall man in police uniform, wearing a white lab coat over it, slowly moved a magnifying glass across the cuff of a blue sweater. Blue-black ink stains glimmered faintly in the morning light. His fingers gently rubbed the fabric, feeling the texture of the fibers.
“Hero-brand carbon ink, fourth batch of 1992,” the man said in a low, steady voice.
A young assistant stood nearby taking notes, his fountain pen scratching softly across the page.
Early that morning, Jiang Ling and Li Zhenliang had delivered the evidence related to Qian Darong’s case to the Public Security Bureau. Now the two of them stood obediently at the doorway, waiting for the results.
The tall man glanced toward the window and raised his hand to adjust the angle of the magnifying glass.
In the morning light, the crystallized pattern of the ink stain gradually became clear, revealing key-tooth–shaped indentations.
Li Zhenliang whispered to Jiang Ling, “Captain Ying is a famous workaholic in the evidence team of the Technical Division at the Public Security Bureau. When he’s collecting or examining evidence, no one dares disturb him.”
Jiang Ling nodded.
Ying Songmao, Second-Level Police Superintendent, Deputy Captain of the Technical Division of the Criminal Investigation Unit of the Yan City Public Security Bureau, and a well-known forensic evidence expert in Hunan Province—she had long heard of him. In her previous life she had never had the chance to work with him, but she had seen his signature many times in evidence reports within case files.
Neat and forceful, with sharp, decisive strokes—his handwriting left a deep impression.
Only… after the year 2000, his signature no longer appeared. She did not know why.
Li Zhenliang continued whispering, “Qian Jianshe hired the most famous lawyer in the city. They say he’s formidable in court. Even though we caught Qian Darong red-handed this time, he’s only fifteen. Only solid physical evidence can send him to a juvenile detention center.”
Standing some distance apart, Li Zhenliang and Jiang Ling found it hard to whisper. Unintentionally, his voice rose slightly.
Ying Songmao stopped what he was doing and turned to glance at Li Zhenliang.
It was only a single look, but it made Li Zhenliang shrink his neck and close his mouth in embarrassment.
Jiang Ling, however, felt no pressure at all. Her gaze remained on Ying Songmao’s face.
Previously, her understanding of him had been limited to stacks of evidence reports and repeated signatures.
When she had nothing to do, she had even tried analyzing his handwriting, concluding that he was probably reserved, disciplined, and somewhat temperamental.
Now that she saw him in person, it was clear he was focused in his work, highly skilled in forensic identification, and meticulous in his conduct—perfectly matching her assessment of “reserved” and “disciplined.”
As for “temperamental”? Judging by that glance he had just given Li Zhenliang, she was probably right about that too.
For a fleeting moment, it felt as if time and space overlapped—the name and the real person finally aligned. It was… rather interesting.
Meeting Jiang Ling’s gaze, Ying Songmao suddenly spoke: “When the ink seeped into the lock cylinder, it collided and formed a unique pattern. This pattern matches the crystallization on the sweater cuff. It can be confirmed that the sweater was stained with ink when it came into contact with the key.”
Li Zhenliang excitedly raised his hand. “Great! Qian Darong has been insisting the key came from Liang Qiqiao. Let’s see how he tries to argue now.”
“Thank you,” Jiang Ling said.
Ying Songmao found Jiang Ling’s gaze somewhat strange.
Although he spent most of his time in the lab, he had a strong instinct for reading people—perhaps because his younger sister was deaf and mute.
This girl was clearly only in her early twenties. He had never met her before, yet her eyes looked at him as if she were seeing an old friend again.
Old friend? Impossible.
Shaking the thought from his mind, Ying Songmao continued examining Qian Darong’s shoes, while his assistant recorded every detail.
Sunlight gradually filled the evidence room, stretching their silhouettes long across the floor.
Time passed second by second, but Jiang Ling felt no boredom at all. She was long accustomed to organizing materials alone in the archives, making preservation records—no scheming, no disputes, no entanglements. It was a calm and fulfilling kind of peace.
Li Zhenliang yawned beside her.
Jiang Ling shot him a sidelong glance.
For a moment, Li Zhenliang felt her expression resembled Ying Songmao’s. He couldn’t help laughing and pointed at her. “You, you…”
“Here.”
A report was extended before his eyes.
Li Zhenliang instantly forgot what he had been about to say to Jiang Ling. Excitedly, he took the report Ying Songmao handed him, flipped to the last page, and read the conclusion. “Thank you, Captain Ying. With complete physical evidence, we don’t have to worry about Qian Darong retracting his confession.”
Jiang Ling, meanwhile, was looking at the signature at the end of the report.
Ying Songmao.
Long time no see.
…
Inside the juvenile courtroom, the atmosphere was tense and solemn.
On the white wall hung the slogan: “Educate, Reform, and Save.” Court bailiffs wore badges reading “Juvenile Justice,” and the armrests of Qian Darong’s seat were padded with velvet to prevent self-harm.
Ying Songmao stood at the witness stand, presenting photographs of the evidence to the court.
“The ink stain on the sweater cuff, the carbon ink found in Liang Jiushan’s desk, and the residual ink in the lock cylinder are consistent.”
“The moss residue on the sole of the shoes matches the moss beneath the steps of Building 13.”
“The footprints inside the Liang residence were identified as left by Qian Darong. From the gait pattern—heavy on the forefoot, light on the heel—he was walking on tiptoe.”
…
The defense lawyer presented evidence, producing a torn copy of a Health and Hygiene textbook that Qian Darong had destroyed, claiming that Qian Darong exhibited a disorder in sexual awareness.
The prosecution presented photographs provided by the police: a pencil case engraved with numbers, a brown red-thread hair tie, a yellowed handwritten booklet, a metal box containing women’s underwear, close-up shots of fabric stained with semen… all of which had been found inside Qian Darong’s desk.
Witnesses took the stand. One of Qian Darong’s classmates testified, “Qian Darong repeatedly harassed Liang Qiqiao. After being criticized by teachers, he started bullying Liang Jiushan instead. He even stomped on the Health and Hygiene textbook and said it wasn’t as interesting as the handwritten booklet.”
Back and forth, the two sides clashed fiercely. As more and more evidence was presented, the lawyer’s expression grew increasingly grim. He had assumed that, since Qian Darong was under fifteen, defending him would be easy. He hadn’t expected the materials and evidence prepared by the police and prosecutors to be so thorough.
Finally, the judge delivered the verdict in court, his voice ringing with authority:
“After trial, it has been established that the defendant Qian Darong (15 years old) on the night of November 13, 1993, illegally broke into Liang Qiqiao’s residence and carried out violent threats. His actions constitute attempted rape. Considering that the defendant is a minor and has suffered long-term cold violence in his family, displaying significant psychological intervention needs, a mitigated sentence is applied in accordance with the law. The judgment is as follows:
-Qian Darong is sentenced to two years of compulsory education (starting from the date of detention).
-Legal guardians Qian Jianshe and Zhao Yanhong shall compensate Liang Qiqiao for medical expenses and mental distress, totaling 3,800 RMB.
-Qian Jianshe’s employer (Yan City Textile Factory) is ordered to issue a formal administrative demerit for issues in his personal conduct.”
Sitting in the defendant’s seat, Qian Darong’s eyes were filled with hatred. Suddenly, he tore open his collar to reveal a scar on his collarbone and shouted at the judge:
“When my father was with women in the warehouse, he locked me outside! Those sounds… those sounds are in my head every night! I was only five then!”
“If my father can do it, why can’t I?!”
“I’m only fifteen. I just wanted to try… why can’t I?”
A murmur ran through the courtroom.
Zhao Yanhong sat in the gallery, trembling all over. The watch in her hand had shattered, but she kept forgetting to remove it. The shards cut her wrist, blood slowly oozing out, yet she seemed unaware of the pain.
Qian Jianshe slumped in his chair, staring blankly at his son sitting in the defendant’s seat. Five years old—back then, his son had been chubby and adorable. He hadn’t yet become deputy factory director and often took his son along wherever he went. Who had he been with in the warehouse at that time? He couldn’t remember at all.
Back then, he had left his son outside the small door of the warehouse, forgetting that a dozen old wooden crates were piled nearby, not yet tidied up. The edges of the crates were sharp, and they cut his son. His son had wailed loudly, blood flowing freely—but he had been caught up in what he was doing and didn’t notice.
He had later regretted it and bought his son many toys to console him, never imagining his son would hold resentment for so long.
Even after the trial ended, Qian Jianshe seemed like a wandering ghost, memories replaying in his mind, his heart aching so much that he could hardly breathe. Only when Zhao Yanhong scratched his face did the pain bring him back to reality.
“Beast! You beast!” Zhao Yanhong screamed hoarsely. “Our son has been sent to a juvenile detention center for two years. Two years! His whole future is ruined!”
Panic and guilt flickered in Qian Jianshe’s eyes. “I… I didn’t expect it would turn out like this either.”
Zhao Yanhong turned her head and saw Liang Qiqiao and Liang Jiushan rising from the audience seats. She suddenly collapsed at Liang Qiqiao’s feet, tears and snot smearing her face. “Qiqiao… Liang Qiqiao… why won’t you write a letter of forgiveness? I can compensate you, I can give you so much money, I can send you and your brother abroad. Why won’t you forgive us? I beg you… I beg you… plead with the judge, just say that you and Darong are in a relationship by choice, please, okay?”
Liang Qiqiao pressed her lips together, saying nothing, quietly watching the woman in front of her weep over her son.
Liang Jiushan stepped in front of his sister. “He got what he deserved. Serves him right!”
Liang Qiqiao held her brother’s hand and spoke slowly, word by word: “I… do not forgive him.”
Zhao Yanhong’s eyes were bloodshot, her expression frenzied. “It’s your fault! You did this on purpose! I know it—you never believed Darong would change. You set a trap for him, didn’t you?”
A trace of sarcasm curled at the corner of Liang Qiqiao’s mouth.
Even if it was on purpose, so what?
The keys were left there; no one forced him to steal them.
The door was right there; no one forced him to enter without permission.
She was there; no one forced him to leap at her.
Jiang Ling had said it all was a test for Qian Darong. Unfortunately, he had failed it.
Liang Qiqiao ignored the frantic Zhao Yanhong and walked out of the courtroom with Liang Jiushan.
Jiang Ling had been waiting outside. Seeing the siblings emerge, she slowly rose from the bench.
Tears of gratitude and joy shimmered in their eyes.
Liang Qiqiao stood straight, as if a great burden had been lifted, completely at ease. “Officer Jiang, he’s been sent to the juvenile detention center. I did it!”
Liang Jiushan’s eyes curved with a bright, youthful smile. “Thank you, Sister Ling.”
After saying “Sister Ling,” Liang Jiushan asked cautiously, “Can I call you that?”
By the end, Liang Jiushan blinked, and his beautiful eyes held no shadow, only clarity and warmth. Yet his right hand unconsciously lingered on the second button of his shirt, revealing his inner nervousness.
Jiang Ling looked at the Liang Jiushan who was completely different from the boy in prison and smiled slightly. “That’s fine.”
Liang Jiushan, you will never again have your hands stained with blood, never again whisper to the prison walls, never again relive remorse over and over, wishing for a second chance.
May your future be smooth and bright, and may you walk a path of happiness.
…
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