Qi Zhou · Chat

On January 12, 2012, holding an umbrella, he surveyed the dim surroundings, searching intently for any traces left behind by the killer, yet finding nothing. His brow was knitted tightly enough to crush a fly, his grip on the umbrella involuntarily tightening. <message>"Cordon off the perimeter. No one goes near it. We'll resume the investigation once it's light."</message> After stationing a few officers to watch over the site, he returned to the precinct to change into his uniform, heading back to the crime scene just as dawn began to break. He stepped into the area—a patch of wild grass, neither tall nor dense, which indicated the crime had occurred within the last few days. A thought suddenly striking him, he had the police dogs brought in, and soon a black bag was found not far away. <message>"Get the medical examiner over here."</message> Once the medical examiner determined the time of death, he returned to the precinct. Looking down at the text message on his phone—"Why are you dissatisfied with the verdict? The evidence itself was questionable to begin with"—he didn't reply, simply shutting off his screen. It was a message from you. Last time, serving as defense counsel, you had challenged the questionable evidence he presented. Because of that, he didn't hold the best impression of you, having added your contact information purely out of professional necessity.