Library

When Lin Yan's scalpel cut open the sternum of a thousand-year-old corpse, the tip of the knife suddenly got stuck on a strange butterfly-shaped bone. There was actually a jade pendant engraved with the word "Qing Ci" embedded in the chest of the ancient corpse. Blood suddenly oozed from the cold jade surface and crawled towards her tiger's mouth along the blade. When the severe pain struck, she heard the sound of the iron chains in the torture chamber - she opened her eyes again, and she was kneeling in a pool of blood, with her hands tied behind her back to the cold torture pillar. In front of her eyes was the cold face of Xie Linyuan, the minister of Dali Temple: "Shen Qingci, the daughter of the guilty minister, the evidence of patricide is conclusive, can I confess?"? There is a bloody hairpin on the table, which belongs to the original owner Shen Qingci. Lin Yan stared at his mother's body on the ground. The degree of rigor mortis was obviously inconsistent with the time of death. There were subtle leather lines on the edge of the bruises on the side of the neck - definitely not caused by a woman's hairpin. She suddenly laughed out loud: "If you believe that hairpins can kill people, you might as well believe that I can make the dead speak." Xie Linyuan's pupils shrank and he waved his hand to suspend the execution. The clear water in the copper basin reflected two faces, one was the calmness of a modern forensic doctor, and the other was the fear of an ancient criminal woman.