Chapter 28

Walking down the tree-lined avenue of the art academy, the air was filled with a faint smell, not particularly pleasant but not repulsive either. Coupled with the dappled light and the sparse street lamps, it indeed created a somewhat eerie and sinister atmosphere.

But Bak felt quite fond of this feeling. Perhaps it was because he had stayed in Eastern Europe and Central Asia for too long, where the crowds were not so dense, or more likely because he had lived in constant fear for too long, making him more accustomed to such an environment.

He knew that he suffered from abnormal adrenaline secretion, meaning his excitement points were different from those of ordinary people.

When he knocked on Fang Lingying's studio door and saw the room full of skulls and heads, he indeed liked it even more.

This was Bak's fourth time delivering food here, always at a relatively late hour. Fang Lingying knew he was busy, so she would place the food on a small table nearby. Her phone, handbag, and a small backpack were also there. Spreading out the food, Bak first inserted a straw into the milk and handed it to her: "Drink this first. Your eating schedule is irregular, which is really bad for your stomach."

Fang Lingying indeed had a casual and familiar air about her: "Mm-hmm, business is good. How's the little girl growing?" She said this, but her eyes remained fixed on the damaged skull in the center of the room.

She had been working on it all along. Bak had seen many different shaping plans, and almost all her work was focused on that skull with no clear clues. The left lower jaw was damaged, and a large part of the right forehead was missing, making it very difficult to reconstruct. Bak could also see a confidential case file with an urgent label on the small table.

The girl looked a bit haggard, drinking milk and reaching behind her. Bak shook his head helplessly, placing the grilled meat in a bun in her hand. When Fang Lingying worked, she was the opposite of Bak; she didn't wear gloves, and her fingers were long and soft, which Bak could feel from the brief touch.

The girl chewed the meat bun without much taste, her eyes fixed on the skull. Midway through, she remembered something, put down the bun, grabbed some modeling clay, and started shaping the skull. After a while, she frowned at the skull, but her hands unconsciously molded the clay into a bun and put it in her mouth!

Bak, torn between laughter and exasperation, reached out to stop her clay bun. Fang Lingying looked at him blankly and then giggled: "I've eaten it a few times, and it's not really that bad."

Her hair was a bit messy, and when she worked, she liked to wear a large pair of glasses, which she said was due to a slight astigmatism. More importantly, she sometimes needed to use tools like drills and grinders, so it served as protection. She was still wearing her blue work smock, but underneath was a black lace-edged dress, which accentuated her fair skin, creating a subtle and deep neckline. Looking up at Bak, she seemed quite pitiful, her eyes bright but her face very tired.

Bak glanced at her and then looked away, focusing on the skull and releasing his hand: "You should concentrate on eating. A man is iron, and food is steel. You need to eat to be strong..." He reached out to touch the hard skull: "Is it urgent?"

Fang Lingying seemed a bit dazed, looking at Bak's broad back, feeling a bit like leaning on it. She shook her head and turned to sit at the small table, starting to eat earnestly, mumbling: "Mm-hmm, the city has set a deadline for solving the case. Actually, this isn't scientific... how can solving a case be put on a deadline?"

Bak was curious: "How much is the reward for solving such a murder case?"

Fang Lingying thought for a moment, probably deciding it wasn't a secret: "Usually... it's about 5,000 yuan, but it has to be divided among the departments and personnel. In the cases I'm involved in, there are usually many people, so it's usually between 100 to 300 yuan. The least I ever got was 42.5 yuan."

Bak focused on the skull: "So you must really love this?"

Fang Lingying laughed a bit: "Pretty strange, right? Others find me pretty strange too." Her voice was a bit hoarse.

Bak made up his mind: "About this skull... I have a small suggestion."

Fang Lingying, who seemed to love bones, sprang over with a light, fragrant scent, the same as what Bak had smelled in the Wrangler a few days ago: "Tell me?"

Bak was very cautious: "I won't inquire about the case details, just my feelings. You know I spent a long time in the northern border, dealing with animal bones and hunting. I often pondered... I don't know how to reconstruct skulls, but when I saw this one, I knew what it was..."

Fang Lingying was very serious: "What is it?"

Bak extended his index finger and gently touched the jagged edge of the left lower jaw: "Look, there are irregular damages all over, but this semicircular gap..." He hesitated for a moment and then said: "This is a bullet entry point. The other gaps are caused by the bullet's impact."

Fang Lingying, of course, could recall every detail of the skull in her dreams, frowned, and nodded: "This gap? It's not smooth?"

Bak, being an expert, said: "Bullet entry points in bones vary. Feel it carefully; this part is different from the others. There are slight burn marks, indicating that the bone edges were slightly scorched by high temperature, unrelated to smoothness."

Fang Lingying looked closely: "Oh... right, right! Very subtle differences."

Bak placed his finger in the semicircular gap, his middle finger pointing to the large damage on the other side of the temple: "This side is simpler. The bullet entered the skull, tumbled inside, and exploded... possibly breaking into several pieces inside the skull, causing the top of the skull to explode outward, not the usual inward damage from a blunt instrument."

Fang Lingying, being professional, said: "Mm-hmm, the previous forensic report said it was an explosion, but the entry point wasn't determined. It could have been a steel rod piercing from below. Your deduction is very accurate." She immediately grabbed a small notebook to record it.

Bak's focus was elsewhere, organizing his words before continuing: "If the bone was scorched, the bullet must have just left the barrel, creating such high temperatures. So the gun must have been pressed here..." He made a gesture with his hand, placing it below the ear wound, aligning the gun's muzzle with the explosion exit. The position was awkward, and he turned to look at Fang Lingying: "It's impossible, right?"

Fang Lingying nodded seriously, stood behind the skull, and made a gesture with her hands, placing the gun's muzzle at the ear: "That's right. The gun was pressed behind the ear, firing and exploding the right temple." Her movements were playful, and a serious girl looked beautiful.

Bak also moved behind the skull, gently lifting Fang Lingying's elbow: "You're too short. No one would hold a gun like this behind someone's head. It should be like this..." He was about ten centimeters taller than Fang Lingying, the so-called ideal height difference for kissing. Now, standing behind her, he was almost touching her back. His left hand, skilled, made a shooting gesture, while his right hand made a virtual gesture of lightly locking around Fang Lingying's neck, without applying force.

But if someone had knocked on the door at that moment, they would have found the couple's actions quite ambiguous, especially in a room full of skulls and heads, adding a strange charm!

Fang Lingying, focused, took a deep breath, her eyes brighter: "Right! Only by holding from behind could the gun be fired like this... The key is..." She seemed to have a revelation, but it was still a bit unclear.

Bak, with no intention of being inappropriate, released her and stepped back, completing his thought: "The key is that the shooter is left-handed!" Only a killer would understand this. In critical moments, one always acts according to their most habitual way, especially in the military. A clear example is that, except for special forces, most soldiers would follow their dominant hand, even in inconvenient terrain, rather than switch hands, as it would make them feel insecure. Only special forces are trained to use both hands, but they would only do so when forced by the terrain.

Bak was familiar with the action of holding the neck and firing, but he rarely did it. The reason was that his head was too close to the target, and the explosion would splash hot substances onto his face. So, the shooter, doing it for the first time, would subconsciously use their dominant hand.

Fang Lingying jumped up excitedly, hugging Bak's arms, her voice filled with excitement: "Right! This clears up everything! This is a murder case from over a decade ago, discovered recently during the demolition of an underground air-raid shelter in the factory. At the time, the factory had tens of thousands of people, and many went out to work, making it difficult to contact the missing. The identity couldn't be determined, and the murderer couldn't be found!"

Bak stood straight, trying not to move, as Fang Lingying's round, plump chest was pressing against his. He could feel her joy and tried to avoid the intimate sensation.

Fang Lingying, unaware, continued: "Since the body was hidden, it was to avoid exposure. It wasn't a random crime but an internal one. Given it was a gun crime, the number of people who could access guns was very limited... Adding the left-handed characteristic, the scope is very small!"

Unlike in Western countries, especially the United States, where left-handed people are common, left-handed people in China are rare. The strict gun control in China further limits the number of people who can access standard firearms. In the factory, only security personnel or militiamen could access guns, making the murderer almost obvious.

Bak knew that the 7.62mm bullet hole he had touched would not hide its caliber from professionals. They would use precise instruments to measure it, but he only needed to feel it. It was definitely not a homemade bullet.

Just like the old women in the courtyard touching mahjong tiles with precision.

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