"The opened milk has gone sour, and the opened bottle of whisky still has about two-thirds left." Xiao Lin stopped Rochester just as he was about to close the fridge door. "Wait a second!" Xiao Lin pulled out a tissue, pinched it between two fingers, turned the recorder back on. "There's a drop of blood on the side of the fridge, the color has already darkened. Suspected to be either the killer's blood or the victim's own."
Hearing this, Rochester immediately leaned in toward that little spot. It was very, very faint, like the tiny tail-end left after someone had wiped it; if you didn't look closely, you'd think it was a juice stain. "Sir, how can you be sure this is blood, and not some other kind of stain?" Rochester asked curiously. "It could also be a bit of blood from the beef."
