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The fresh blood weighed down the paper even more. Qin Yaru felt an unbearable burning pain in her chest, dizzy and nearly fainting, yet the pressure suddenly lightened.
A long hand reached out, removing a large portion of the papers from her face, leaving only a thin layer still stuck to her mouth and nose, which no longer obstructed her breathing but merely hindered her vision.
Taking a few shallow breaths eased the tightness in her chest. She blinked hard several times and finally managed to open her eyes. Through the damp paper, Qin Yaru vaguely saw a figure standing in front of her. The figure stood still for a moment before suddenly lifting a foot and forcefully stepping on the abdomen of the Marquis beside her.
Pang Yuanying let out a hoarse growl, his face contorted, but he immediately gritted his teeth and remained silent.
Qin Yaru's lips twitched. If it weren't for the inappropriate setting, she would have wanted to praise—this delicate and pleasure-seeking Marquis was indeed a tough man; she had never expected that.
It was no wonder Qin Yaru felt so relaxed; at least she was fifty percent sure that this person in front of her was not an enemy, at least not someone who wanted her dead.
Although he seemed quite hostile towards Pang Yuanying, judging by his demeanor, he did not appear to want to directly annihilate Lord Pang.
Forced into this situation because of this master, Qin Yaru felt no resentment, but there was still some unresolved frustration. This person had brought her enough trouble already.
Now letting this Marquis suffer a little lesson wouldn't be bad, Qin Yaru thought; at least she could vent some frustration. Moreover, perhaps after this incident, this master could grow a bit and spare those around him some worry.
Consort Qin did not consider at all for whom Pang Yuanying had fallen into such misfortune. In fact, Qin Yaru did not think it was her fault; it was ultimately due to Pang Yuanying's overconfidence and carelessness.
Qin Yaru made an effort to clear her mind. This was something she learned from Gao Feng: the more critical the moment, the less one should panic; one must remain calm. If unable to do so, one should try to think of happy things.
Clearly, this was a critical moment.
Qin Yaru exhaled and smiled slightly. In a situation that had seemed hopeless, suddenly having at least a fifty percent chance of safety was already quite good; she should be grateful.
The man standing beside her seemed surprised that she could remain so calm, and a somewhat strained chuckle escaped him.
"Do you think I won't kill you?"
Qin Yaru was taken aback, feeling a cold, wet hand grip her slender neck. The person did not apply much force, but the damp, chilly sensation sent shivers down her spine.
She suddenly recalled a frightening trick that Gao Feng had once casually mentioned while laughing—using something cold to press against the carotid artery, combined with hypnosis, could accelerate a person's heartbeat and make them unknowingly recall memories from long ago, naturally revealing their innermost thoughts.
Of course, this trick wouldn't work on someone trained and resolute.
There was no scientific basis for this method, yet Gao Feng had succeeded at least six or seven times out of ten, giving him a success rate of over fifty percent. This left their team puzzled about whether their captain was just talking nonsense or if he truly had some secret technique.
"Yes, I still have some compassion and don't really want to kill you. But if you can't give me the answer I want, I'll strip your clothes off and throw them on the mountain. You should know that this place isn't exactly secluded; someone will definitely come by. It's just a matter of whether they are women or upright gentlemen."
The voice was sinister and carried an unsettling tone. However, Qin Yaru detected a peculiar rhythm within it that matched the sound of her heartbeat, leaving her astonished—could it be that there were people who practiced hypnosis a thousand years ago during the Song Dynasty? Was her ancestor truly so capable?
Upon reflection, it wasn't impossible; her records mentioned a type of incantation that included psychological therapy. If the information was accurate, that medical skill could be far more powerful than modern hypnosis.
In Chinese history, wars frequently broke out, and countless skills faded into obscurity. It was only natural that there were things she didn't know.
Not to mention Bai Yunsheng's lightness of foot that allowed him to leap onto rooftops in a single bound was far more mysterious than hypnosis.
If this man knew that the Qin Yaru he was trying to intimidate was actually lost in thought, he would probably be so frustrated he would bang his head against a wall.
But separated by a layer of cotton paper, not only could Qin Yaru not see his expression, he couldn't see hers either. Even if she was distracted, he remained unaware.
This was for the best; it spared them both from unnecessary frustration.
The man reached out and peeled back a bit of the cotton paper covering Qin Yaru's face, revealing her crimson lips. He then suddenly turned his hand and knocked out Pang Yuanying, who had been listening intently with his ear tilted in curiosity. He continued in a low, hoarse voice, "Let me ask you: five years ago, did you send out the letter your father asked you to deliver?"
"Five years ago?" Qin Yaru murmured, racking her brain, but she couldn't remember anything.
For the real Qin Yaru of the Song Dynasty, five years ago might still be a memory, but for the current Qin Yaru, what was referred to as five years ago was actually decades in the past. Unless it was something crucial, how could she possibly remember?
Qin Yaru closed her eyes and recalled what Gao Feng had said before—memories do not disappear; they are stored deep within the brain. Those who have not undergone memory training may struggle to recall distant events, but anyone who has received rigorous memory training can easily retrieve memories like data stored on a hard drive, as long as they have the right keywords.
However, Qin Yaru was just a forensic doctor, a logistics personnel, and naturally had not received any training. Even if she employed all the various memory-enhancing methods Captain Gao had mentioned, she still couldn't remember what her father had asked her to deliver five years ago.
The man seemed to be provoked by Qin Yaru's silence; his voice grew colder, laced with suppressed anger that still surged forth: "I remind you, it was in August five years ago, on the fifteenth of August, during the Mid-Autumn Festival... It snowed heavily that night, covering everything in white."
Qin Yaru was taken aback and suddenly remembered. How could she forget? That was the last big family reunion Mid-Autumn Festival she spent with Daddy, Mother, her elder brother, Third Sister, and... Wang Wu.
She remembered how Daddy was in high spirits, drank quite a bit of wine, and gifted her a complete set of writing materials that she had long wanted.
Aside from that, the Wolf Hair Brush among them had been treasured by Daddy for twenty years. It was said to be a relic from a master brush maker of the previous dynasty. When Daddy passed the imperial examination and became a jinshi, his mentor Pang Ziyu personally gifted it to him.
Pang Ziyu's beloved son Pang Chunzhi, who was also Qin Yizhi's senior brother, cherished this brush as well. However, Pang Ziyu gave it to Qin Yizhi instead, which caused Pang Chunzhi to sulk for more than half a month.
Qin Yizhi treasured this brush greatly and intended to pass it on to his own child. At that time, Qin Yaru and her elder brother often bickered over this brush.
"Do you still remember what happened that day?"
"...Of course I remember; I was so happy." Unconsciously, the once confident Qin Yaru began to show signs of being hypnotized. "I won against my brother; Daddy gave me that Wolf Hair Brush. But that's normal; my brother never resembled Dad. He preferred martial arts over studying. Even when he did study, he always hid military books beneath serious texts to read secretly. When Dad found out, he was furious."
The Song Dynasty valued literature over martial arts. Qin Yizhi took it upon himself to educate others and naturally hoped his son would inherit his legacy. Unfortunately, while his daughter showed promise in academics, his son read all sorts of chaotic books but barely grasped serious literature.
The man fell silent for a moment before murmuring: "No letter? Of course not; how could such a thing be given to you so openly... Where is that set of writing materials you received? Haven't you used them?"
Qin Yaru was silent, closing her mouth, her heart twisted in pain—her father must have had high hopes for her, but what about herself? At that time, she was just a woman in love, willing to give everything to the one she cherished, just like the foolish women below. That pen from her father was something she longed for, but the more she cherished it, the more she wanted to give it to the man she loved most.
She didn’t even dare to touch that pen and gave it to Chen Wenyue. Qin Yaru gritted her teeth; the next day, Chen Wenyue lost that pen. At that moment, Chen Wenyue was very dejected, and she felt heartbroken too, but still suppressed her guilt towards Daddy and comforted Wang Wu for a long time.
“Have you even used it?” the man said sharply, his tone becoming urgent. There seemed to be sounds coming from not far away; his time was running out.
Qin Yaru hesitated for a moment but still lowered her voice: “I haven’t used it; I gave it all to… Chen Wenyue.”
The man was taken aback, clenched his fist tightly, and after a long time murmured: “I see now; no wonder, no wonder.” He suddenly turned around, bent down, and slapped Pang Yuanying hard, waking him from his stupor.
Pang Yuanying was furious; the fire in his eyes made his handsome face even more striking. If an ordinary person saw him, they would surely feel pity. But the man treated him like a skeleton: “I’ll spare your life today. Go back and ask your father about the bloodshed in Wu Yi Alley five years ago. Is he guilty or not? Does he dare to sleep alone at night?”
“Bastard! You have some nerve to insult my father… who the hell are you?”
Pang Yuanying shouted hoarsely, but he had no strength left in him; his voice was barely louder than a cat's meow. The sounds in the distance grew louder. The man glanced at Qin Yaru one last time, then swiftly disappeared into the dense forest.
Only the lingering echo remained—“Leave Wudang immediately; Gao Zhen’s brothers are not dead yet and will come back for revenge sooner or later.” It was unclear who he was addressing with that statement.
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