"Huh? Why is there something in the nose too? What's the point of that?" Knowing Serena Feng would ignore him, Ethan Hsieh still couldn't help but ask again.
Just as Ethan Hsieh expected, Serena Feng continued to ignore him. She pried open the child's mouth, took a slender transparent rod, and gently stirred it inside. When she pulled it out, she found a few drops of breast milk clinging to the rod.
After finishing all this, Serena Feng stepped back two paces, removed her outer gloves, took off her mask, and with a serious expression, spoke to the crowd awaiting her verdict.
"The situation is basically clear. The time of death was after the child had breastfed. The child was not smothered by someone else, but suffocated due to negligent care by the person feeding him. It can be concluded that this was not a deliberate murder."
"What did you say? No way, no way!" As soon as Serena Feng finished, the child's mother let out a crazed howl and threw herself at her, wild-eyed and desperate.
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"You know very well if that's the case. If my deductions are correct, you didn't hire a wet nurse—the child was fed by you personally." Serena Feng pointed at the child's mother, her tone cold and mocking.
This woman may not have killed with her own hands, but her carelessness led to the child's death—and she tried to pin it on someone else to save herself.
It's hard to say whether she's truly evil or not; all you can conclude is that women in the back courtyards of great clans are never simple.
"How do you know?" Second Master Hsieh, Caleb Wang, and Ethan Hsieh had doubted Serena Feng's judgment, but her words forced them to admit she had real skill.
You have to understand, in families like the Wang and Hsieh clans—and even regular households—babies always get a wet nurse.
Even for concubine's children, it's rare for the mother to nurse them herself—let alone for Second Master Hsieh's first son.
"The child told me." Serena Feng kept to herself that she'd noticed from the woman's chest.
A woman who breastfeeds has a different chest—generally larger and more prone to sagging.
Especially when a woman is only wearing a dudou (traditional Chinese undergarment), if she produces more milk, it will seep through.
It's been hours now, so of course her chest would show some changes.
Men are too embarrassed to stare at a woman's chest, but she doesn't care.
"How could that be? You liar! My child is dead—how could he possibly tell you anything?" The woman panicked, and seeing Second Master Hsieh and the others' suspicious looks, she immediately clung to the child's corpse, crying loudly.
Her sobs grew more and more heartbreaking, but everyone here was sharp; after Serena Feng's explanation and the woman's theatrics, most had already figured out what was going on.
Her crying grew more and more pitiful, but everyone present was shrewd; after Serena Feng's explanation and the woman's performance, most could already guess the truth.
"Why not? A corpse can speak for itself—the child told me the cause of his death." Serena Feng declared confidently.
Second Master Hsieh and Ethan Hsieh both looked grim. At this point, neither had the energy to nitpick Serena Feng's words.
This incident in the Hsieh family was a disgrace—and they hadn't even managed to keep it under wraps.
Second Master Hsieh kicked the child's mother hard.
"You wretch, you killed my son!"
"No, Master, no—it wasn't me, it wasn't me! The child is my own flesh and blood, how could I possibly harm him? Master, don't listen to that woman's nonsense! How could I kill my own son—he's your firstborn! I have no reason to do such a thing!" The concubine clung to Second Master Hsieh's leg, sobbing and repeatedly blaming Serena Feng.
She did have a point, in some ways.
At this moment, Magistrate Wei remembered his duty and, putting on a stern face, addressed Serena Feng:
"Serena Feng, if you don't have evidence, don't make wild claims. What makes you so sure the child wasn't murdered, but suffocated due to negligent care?"
Although Serena Feng was the one speaking, this matter was a huge blow to the Hsieh family's reputation.
"Don't worry, of course I have evidence. Without it, how could I dare to falsely accuse anyone?" Serena Feng's gaze fell mockingly on the woman in white lying on the ground.
While Magistrate Wei looked awkward, Serena Feng calmly stepped forward to explain: "Actually, it's simple. Look at the child's face—if he had been smothered by someone, there would be marks. But in reality? There's nothing but bluish discoloration from asphyxiation."
You should know, a child's face is extremely delicate. Even the lightest touch leaves a mark that doesn't fade quickly, and if the child is dead, the marks fade even slower—at least two or three days to disappear. If the child really was smothered, the culprit couldn't possibly use no force at all.
And here's the most important point: there were a few cotton threads under the child's nails. This means, before dying, the child grasped at something cotton—he struggled, but not violently.
If the child had been murdered, there wouldn't be any cotton threads under his nails. An adult trying to kill a baby wouldn't give him any chance to grab at anything, and in that case, the child's struggle would have been much more intense."
"But it's also possible someone covered the child with a quilt or something heavy, without actually using their hands," Ethan Hsieh pointed out sharply.
Everyone turned to Serena Feng, waiting for her answer.
Ethan Hsieh's tone was full of threat.
They'd planned to make trouble for Serena Feng today, but in the end, it was the Hsieh family that lost face.
If Serena Feng couldn't give a convincing explanation, she'd be in serious trouble.
To throw mud at the Hsieh family—talk about guts!
Ethan Hsieh's threat was obvious—of course Serena Feng noticed.
But she trusted her own instincts.
Even if she wasn't a forensic specialist, she trusted her own read of the case.
"Your guess isn't wrong, but as I said, the child died after breastfeeding. After nursing, the mother fell asleep holding him."
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"What makes you so sure?" Ethan Hsieh, seeing Serena Feng's certainty, began to doubt himself.
The child's mother froze on the spot, no longer daring to wail.
Serena Feng glanced at the woman, then pointed to the child's body: "See the right side of his clothes? Way more wrinkled than the left. And there are milk stains—left behind when the mother dozed off after nursing him."
If all that still isn't enough to convince you, just look at the way the child's mother glances at that lady—her expression says it all.
Her eyes weren't angry at a killer—they were full of smugness and jealousy. I'd bet she's secretly thrilled, thinking she's pulled off the perfect frame-up with an "accident."
"No, no, you're lying! You're making this up! How could I, how could I kill my own son? I didn't—I didn't!" The child's mother snapped out of it and began shouting.
If this charge stuck, she'd be finished.
But Serena Feng didn't show a shred of sympathy: "I told you, you didn't murder the child—he died because you weren't careful enough. Accidents like this happen all the time. Babies can't speak for themselves. Sometimes, when it's cold, parents bundle them up in thick clothes and heavy quilts, and that can crush their hearts and lungs. Taking care of a baby is delicate work. You wanted to protect your child yourself, but you just didn't have the experience."
Serena Feng shook her head.
She could guess that the concubine insisted on caring for her own child, afraid he'd be poisoned in this sprawling mansion, but fate had other ideas.
It's rough being a woman in one of these mansions!
Thinking about it, Serena Feng felt she was actually lucky—at least she hadn't transmigrated into some powerless concubine. Otherwise, she'd be crying her eyes out right now...