There is a disease in Jiang Xun's brain.
When the fingertips touch the physical evidence left at the crime scene, the physiological information left over by the murderer when he was extremely excited or calm will pour into his nerves like a tide - it is the murderous intention mixed with the smell of turpentine and almonds, the shudder when the torsion spring springs open, and the cold and satisfied heartbeat of the murderer after committing the crime.
Ordinary people regard it as a miracle, and forensic doctor Su Qing calls it "pathological supersensory empathy." But for Jiang Xun, every perception is a mental pollution on the verge of personality collapse. Accompanied by migraines that were difficult to suppress with painkillers, he stepped into the mystery of serial exchange and murder.
It wasn't until he dug out the familiar spire building and the name circled in red pen at the end of the case file that his father had sealed during his lifetime.
Abyss never looked away. The gear that took his father's life fifteen years ago was biting his throat again along the perfectly fitting equation.
