Though Serena Feng’s reputation had yet to be restored, that hardly mattered to Leon Su. He declared, “Sister Feng is amazing. I won’t let you make fun of her.”
Leon Su was Serena Feng’s most devoted admirer. No matter how high Dominic Zhai’s status, Leon refused to let him tease her.
Dominic Zhai bent down, pinched Leon Su’s cheek, and grinned, “You trust her that much?”
Leon Su puffed up with frustration, but when he compared his small frame to Dominic Zhai’s broad shoulders, he grit his teeth and lowered his raised hand. “If Sister Feng sets her mind to something, she’ll definitely succeed.”
Serena Feng couldn’t help but smile at Leon Su’s blind faith. It was pure worship—and honestly, it made her happy.
Leon Su was the second person to worship her so blindly; the first had been Simon Sun.
Serena Feng began the autopsy by inspecting the corpse’s ears and nose. Finding nothing unusual, she stripped off the upper garments, leaving the lower half untouched. She planned to start with the upper body and only move on if necessary.
After all, there wasn’t much to examine in the lower body—and with private areas to consider, she preferred to avoid unnecessary taboo. In this conservative world, she already stood out enough; if she could conceal her unconventional methods, she would.
Serena Feng pressed her palms together and bowed three times to the corpse, showing respect for the dead.
Respect for the dead was paramount. Even ordinary coroners would do this; the deceased was no criminal, and Serena’s dissection was a last resort—to seek justice for the victim.