Lin Xiaoxiao gave Lü Zhigang a light smack on the arm. "Stop spacing out. Let's go. You know where the morgue is, right?"

Of course, Lü Zhigang knew. It wasn't far from where they'd climbed the wall. The area was completely open, yet walking through it sent an involuntary chill down one's spine.

Following Lü Zhigang, Lin Xiaoxiao slipped into the pitch-black morgue. Inside, a row of five or six beds stood against the wall, three of them occupied by bodies covered with white sheets.

Lü Zhigang went first, using his flashlight to check each one. He pointed at the second body and whispered, "This one."

Lin Xiaoxiao walked over, pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, and wrapped it around the flashlight lens. The muted light was less glaring and less likely to be noticed from outside.

Lü Zhigang fell silent for a moment, half-convinced Lin Xiaoxiao must have been discharged from special forces herself.

She examined the dead man's neck, noting the clear ligature marks. She pried open his mouth and nose to look inside, then lifted his eyelids.

Finally, she meticulously checked each of his fingers.

Lü Zhigang kept watch for any movement outside while observing Lin Xiaoxiao. She didn't seem to be handling a corpse—it was more like she was inspecting a piece of meat.

Any other young woman would have been screaming in terror by now.

Then, to Lü Zhigang's utter astonishment, she stripped the body naked, conducted a thorough examination, and then deftly redressed it, restoring it to its original state. She turned to Lü Zhigang. "Alright, let's go."

Lü Zhigang took the flashlight and gave the body one more careful look before they stealthily made their exit.

They met up with Zhou Huai'an, who was waiting by the wall, and the three returned to the guesthouse.

They went straight to Lü Zhigang's room. Lin Xiaoxiao started speaking immediately. "The deceased has ligature marks on his neck, but he didn't die from hanging. He was poisoned.

There's a slight darkening under his fingernails, distinct dark streaks between his legs, and a clear needle mark on his buttock."

Lü Zhigang stared at her, stunned. How did she see all that? He'd only managed to determine the cause was poisoning.

Somewhat confused, he asked, "You're saying the poison was injected into his... buttock?"

Lin Xiaoxiao nodded. "Yes. Probably the situation was urgent, the needle slipped, and it accidentally went into his backside. That's why the toxin concentration is heavier there. He was murdered inside the Public Security Bureau."

Lü Zhigang couldn't help but marvel. "That audacious? They dared to kill someone right inside the PSB?"

It showed just how desperate the perpetrator was.

Zhou Huai'an noticed Lin Xiaoxiao holding her fingers delicately apart, clearly disgusted by what she'd touched. Without a word, he fetched a basin of water for her to wash her hands.

Lin Xiaoxiao's eyes sparkled with a smile. The old man was quite thoughtful after all. She went over and scrubbed her hands thoroughly with soap.

Her mind, however, was still on the killer's blood type. Suddenly, a memory flashed—the man who looked like Zhou Chang'an that she and Little Zhu had seen outside the restaurant that day.

She stood up excitedly and looked at Zhou Huai'an. "Do you remember the night we ate wontons? When Little Zhu and I were washing our hands, I saw a man who looked exactly like Zhou Chang'an."

Lü Zhigang took a moment to recall who Zhou Chang'an was. "Zhou Chang'an?"

Lin Xiaoxiao continued, "The real killer has type AB blood. So does Zhou Chang'an. And I saw a man who looked like Zhou Chang'an. Thinking about it now, his build was quite similar to the attacker's. Do you think it could be the same person?"

Lü Zhigang frowned. "Just because they look alike, their blood types match too?"

Lin Xiaoxiao shook water droplets from her hands. "That's not the important part. We should try to turn every impossibility into a possibility. What if there's a connection? Solving cases is about not overlooking any detail."

Zhou Huai'an frowned. "They looked that similar?"

Lin Xiaoxiao nodded. "Extremely similar. We should keep an eye out for anyone in the city who resembles Zhou Chang'an. He failed this time; he definitely won't stop."

Although Lü Zhigang found the theory illogical—just fragments Lin Xiaoxiao was forcing together—he didn't voice his doubts since Zhou Huai'an seemed to believe her.

He just found it strange: since when did Zhou Huai'an stop thinking critically and start trusting Lin Xiaoxiao unconditionally?

Back in their room, Lin Xiaoxiao was still muttering. "If only we could perform an autopsy, we could find out what poison was used."

Zhou Huai'an looked at her. "Do you know how to perform an autopsy?"

Lin Xiaoxiao saw no point in hiding it now—lives were at stake. "I've seen a little. It should be similar to dissecting a rabbit."

Zhou Huai'an said nothing. It was not similar to dissecting a rabbit.

Preoccupied by the events, Lin Xiaoxiao had no energy to tease Zhou Huai'an. Lying in bed, she kept turning over her theory.

How many coincidences could there really be? Most of the time, coincidences pointed to something wrong.

If someone who looked like Zhou Chang'an really wanted Zhou Huai'an dead, why? What was their connection?

She recalled her earlier suspicion that Zhou Huai'an might not be Wang Fenglan and Zhou Mancang's biological son. Could it be a case of a swapped identity? Had the "false heir" now discovered the truth and decided to kill Zhou Huai'an, the "true heir"?

Her imagination ran wild, jumping from palace intrigues to power struggles between various factions.

The more she thought, the more excited she became, too excited to sleep.

She tossed and turned in bed.

Zhou Huai'an, in the other bed, was also awake. His mind was on Lin Xiaoxiao's words—a man who looked like Zhou Chang'an.

He had seen a man who resembled Zhou Chang'an three years ago, though he hadn't learned his name.

Could it be him?

Lin Xiaoxiao finally drifted into a fitful sleep near dawn. When she woke, the sun was already high. The bed Zhou Huai'an had used was neatly made, and he was gone.

She sat up, rubbed her sleep-tousled short hair, got dressed, and went out to wash up.

Passing Lü Zhigang's room, she saw a lock on the door—it seemed both men had gone out together.

After washing up, she waited in her room for a while, but Zhou Huai'an didn't return. She decided to go to the hospital to check on Little Zhu.

On her way downstairs, she overheard the front desk staff chatting enviously about sewing machine vouchers and bicycle vouchers, wishing they could get one to bring pride to their families when they married.

Lin Xiaoxiao understood: buying a bicycle or sewing machine required an industrial voucher.

These vouchers were extremely scarce, not issued to everyone. Only certain officials and model workers had a chance to receive one.

Coincidentally, she had one herself. If she traded or sold these vouchers, she could make good money.

Suddenly feeling like she was sitting on a treasure, she happily headed to the hospital to see Little Zhu.

She decided she would use this industrial voucher to get some cash and then buy things she needed.

While thinking about making money, her mind drifted back to the corpse. How wonderful it would be if she could just perform an autopsy.

Since when did I develop such a macabre hobby?