Coroner: "Song Yang"

4.The Forensic Officer Song Ci

So, Song Ci documented all of his forensic knowledge in The Collected Cases of Injustice Rectified. This text was the world's first forensic manual, predating similar Western works by over three hundred years, and earned Song Ci recognition worldwide as the "founder of forensic science."

Since Song Ci’s time, the descendants of the Song family have served in the Ministry of Justice and the Dali Temple, solving countless cases. They gradually expanded The Collected Cases of Injustice Rectified, accumulating a formidable body of forensic skills under the title The Divine Guide to Judging Cases.

However, as the saying goes, "the higher the tree, the more wind it attracts." Song family members, with their profound knowledge, often became targets of criminals and suffered tragic fates. Furthermore, their unique skills made them vulnerable to exploitation. In the Ming Dynasty, the Song family was once ordered to investigate a strange case involving a nine-tailed cat, which led to a royal power struggle. Ultimately, they were framed as scapegoats, narrowly avoiding the extermination of nine generations.

One of our ancestors skilled in divination believed that our family’s knowledge, being so advanced as to uncover heaven’s secrets, might have incurred the wrath of spirits. It seemed that any Song family member who became an official, constable, or coroner would suffer an untimely death. To preserve our lineage, the ancestor established the family motto: "No office, no public service; preserve oneself through wisdom."

I felt a mix of disappointment and disbelief after hearing this. “But Grandpa,” I protested, “aren’t you helping the police with cases yourself?”

With a sigh, Grandpa explained, “When I was young, I had a passion for solving cases like you. Before liberation, I made a name for myself by solving major cases nationwide. Soon enough, disaster struck. Some accused me of using superstitious practices in forensics, and I was sent to sleep in a stable and tend horses for three years. Every day, I feared for my life. If it hadn’t been for a timely reversal of the charges, I might not have survived."

He took a deep sip of ginger tea. “The strong break easily, but the soft endure. I revealed only a fraction of my skills and faced such misfortune, so I finally understood the wisdom of our ancestors. I retired here to live quietly, yet people still sought me out. It’s not that I didn’t want to help, but I couldn’t. Reluctantly, I agreed to assist in ways that wouldn't make me too visible. I hoped you’d avoid this path, but when you displayed your skills in front of Mr. Sun today, I realized this is the Song family’s fate.”

I was left uncertain. Was Grandpa encouraging me to follow this path, or warning me against it?

Grandpa continued, "Since you've passed the test, I plan to teach you everything I know from now on. Are you willing to learn?”

Excited, I replied, “Of course, Grandpa!”

He shook his head. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. The reason I’m teaching you is that dabbling with only a few books and showing off is like a child wielding a dangerous sword. The true essence of the Song family’s art is still beyond you. I don’t want to lose you, but I can’t protect you forever. All I can do is teach you how to wield this sword and let you choose your path.”

He added, “Forensic knowledge is a treasure passed down by our ancestors. If it dies with me, it would be a terrible shame. Knowing the Song family legacy will continue would bring me peace…”

Perhaps it was just my imagination, but his words gave me a sense of foreboding, as if he were giving a final farewell.

With a solemn nod, I cast aside the troubling thoughts.

From that day forward, I began learning everything Grandpa could teach about forensic investigation. The mysteries of his craft were too profound to capture in words. I endured many hardships, yet I absorbed every bit of knowledge like a sponge.

Three years flew by. My college entrance exam results were mediocre, and my score fell over a hundred points short of getting into the provincial tech university. However, Grandpa assured me to fill it in as my top choice, promising he’d make it happen.

Trusting his influence, I confidently chose the university.

My aunt wanted me to study business so I could help with her ventures. But I, with my passion for criminal investigation, had no interest in business. After some thought, I chose applied electronics—practical and with good job prospects. Only later did I realize that my class had only three girls; regret hit hard, but by then, there was no turning back.

After the exam, I spent my long summer break relaxing at home, watching movies, playing chess with Grandpa, and browsing the internet.

One day, after attending a classmate gathering, where we reminisced, drank, and sang karaoke, I returned home around eleven at night. I noticed that the lights in the Song family residence were unusually bright. A chill ran through me; in our town, such lights late at night usually meant a tragedy—often, the passing of an elder.

The alcohol evaporated as I rushed home, pushed the door open, and found the house empty.

Entering Grandpa’s study, I noticed a plain envelope on his desk, with a blood-red scythe drawn on the bottom right corner.

The envelope seemed to contain something. Curious, I tipped it into my palm, and a sticky object landed there—a single eyeball!