The astonishing scene of a "dead man coming back to life" left everyone dumbfounded.
Huang Xiaotao stared wide-eyed and asked, "Song Yang, how on earth did you do that?"
I explained, "Life contains death, and death contains life. Even a corpse can regain some bodily functions through certain special methods."
"That's... incredible!"
"Not at all. When a person dies, their lungs usually trap some air—unless they drowned or suffocated. What you saw just now was actually the trapped air in the lungs pushing the corpse up, causing the so-called 'resurrection.'"
I picked up some ice shards from the floor with tweezers and examined them closely. Blood and tiny flesh fragments stuck to the ice.
"Why would there be ice inside the lungs of the deceased?" Huang Xiaotao asked, voicing what everyone was wondering.
"Because the body had been frozen for some time after death. But since there was no water trace on the skin, it was probably frozen with dry ice or refrigerants, drastically slowing down decomposition. This created the illusion that death occurred only ten hours ago. But internal organs can't lie. Using my 'bone-audio' technique, I detected varying degrees of decay inside—typical of a corpse dead for about 48 hours. The lung air froze into ice shards because of the cold," I smiled slightly.
Huang Xiaotao was stunned, then patted my shoulder, "Song Yang, you're amazing! I almost can't believe you taught yourself all this."
...
I smiled. "Enough talk. Let's continue the autopsy."
I asked an officer to bring a long table, flipped it upside down in the center of the room with the legs pointing up.
I wrapped ropes tightly around the legs, making a simple rope bed.
Underneath, I placed an electric heater plugged in, with an iron plate on top.
Huang Xiaotao picked up a succulent plant from my bag, curious, "You guys had such colorful college lives. What's that plant for?"
"You'll see. Come help me strip the body and place it on the rope bed!" I ordered.
Two officers removed the corpse's pants and laid it on the ropes. Huang Xiaotao blushed and looked away when she saw the private parts.
I thought, probably never had a girlfriend, so shy about that.
I opened a bottle of white vinegar, squeezed ginger juice into it, then poured the whole bottle onto the heated iron plate.
With a sizzling sound, white vinegar steam filled the room, stinging noses painfully. Many cops covered their noses and stepped back.
I kept pouring vinegar, eyes fixed on the corpse.
In the swirling vapor, purple-red marks started appearing on the body. I quickly turned off the heater. As the steam cleared, everyone gasped.
There were many handprints on the corpse—exactly matching those I had found earlier on another victim using the red umbrella technique!
"Oh my god, those are women's handprints! Could it really be a female ghost killing people?" Huang Xiaotao exclaimed.
I chuckled inwardly. The prints were smaller than an adult male's and had slender fingers, but that didn't prove it was a woman, let alone a ghost. I wondered how she became a police inspector.
"Stop gawking and take photos!" I urged.
"Right, Xiao Wang, get the camera!" A junior officer quickly surrounded the corpse, snapping pictures.
This technique is called "White Vinegar Steam Corpse," a secret method invented by Song Ci, the famous forensic official of ancient China.
Human palms secrete minute amounts of alkaline sweat. The vinegar's acidity reacts with it to reveal handprints.
But the prints don't last long. After a few minutes, they faded.
Huang Xiaotao asked, "Song Yang, ghosts in movies are supposed to be intangible. How do they leave handprints?"
"Who told you it's ghosts? These are left by the killer—a real person. Did you notice the clear handprints on both calves, wrapping around them? Do you know what that means?" I asked.
She gestured, "The killer grabbed the victim's calves with both hands..." Then covered her mouth, "I get it! The killer's a pervert!"
I laughed helplessly, "No, the killer grabbed the calves to drag the body."
"That makes sense!" she nodded. "But if death was around 48 hours ago, how did two eyewitnesses see Deng Chao with the victim last night? Was he already dead then?"
"Seeing isn't always believing. When eyewitness testimony conflicts with physical evidence, I trust the latter. I think the body wasn't Deng Chao's but brought from somewhere else into the music room," I said.
"Why would the killer do that?" Huang Xiaotao looked puzzled.
"Not clear yet, but the truth will come out eventually," I replied.
At that moment, Wang Dali rushed in. "Yangzi, I got everything for you..."
He suddenly stopped, staring at the naked corpse on the iron plate, shocked.
"Damn, every time I leave, you guys take it up a notch. What's this, a sauna for corpses?"
"No, we're deciding whether to steam or roast," I shrugged.
Wang Dali probably thought of food, handed me some stuff, then covered his mouth and ran out.
Huang Xiaotao's face turned dark. "Can you not talk about food during autopsy? So disgusting! Are you even a student? Your nerves are too strong."
"Sorry, I've seen a lot," I laughed.
The magnet Wang Dali brought was from a speaker. I covered it with white paper, moving it around the severed neck.
Afterward, I showed the paper to Huang Xiaotao, cupping it in my hands.
Though the particles were tiny, under the white paper, anyone could see them.
"What are these?" she leaned closer.
"Sharp metal fragments," I explained.
She looked at me then the paper, "These are smaller than mites. How can you see them?"
"I eat carrots often. Good eyesight," I joked.
"Where did the fragments come from? The guitar strings?" she asked.
I showed her a guitar string—thin as a hair, twisted like a thread of steel wires. Even if damaged, it wouldn't shed sharp fragments.
"Tools that produce such fragments are saws or saw blades—made of iron and prone to wear during cutting," I explained.
"Saws? You mean the victim's head was sawed off?" Huang Xiaotao's eyes widened.
"Don't jump to conclusions. Got a handkerchief?" I asked.
"Wait!" She borrowed one from an officer. I tore some succulent leaves, wrapped them in the handkerchief, squeezed juice, and gently dabbed the neck wound.
The cut turned purple. The skin showed cut marks; the bone had friction scratches from a saw blade.
"See now? The skin was cut with a knife, but the spine was sawed through."
Huang Xiaotao was amazed, "How did you do that?"
"Succulents react to metal. Using their juice reveals tool marks."
"Song Yang, I've known you less than an hour, but you use all these strange forensic tricks like magic. I've never seen them in police work. Tell me, who exactly are you?" she stared at me intensely.