The moment she woke up, Fang Wenjun instinctively moved her wrist.
After confirming that her wrist could still move, tears instantly rolled down the corners of her eyes.
Thank heavens, her hand was still functional.
"Shimu (master's wife)..."
Before Jiang Si could offer any words of comfort, Fang Wenjun interrupted her.
"Xiao Jiang, did you bring your drawing tools?"
Jiang Si nodded.
Without needing any prompting, Huo Tingzhou immediately stood up and said, "I'll go get them from the car."
After he left, Jiang Si gave Fang Wenjun a puzzled look.
While waiting outside earlier, she had glanced at the police report.
According to eyewitnesses, the assailant had hit Fang Wenjun from behind with his car.
But given how severe her injuries were, how had she seen anything?
However, Fang Wenjun’s next words shattered Jiang Si’s understanding of human malice.
"The first time he hit me, it was head-on."
"I was thrown over two meters, and my right arm slammed onto the curb."
Driven by a desperate will to survive, Fang Wenjun had crawled into a narrow alleyway after being knocked down.
"His car couldn’t follow me in. When he saw I could still move, he got out, dragged me, and threw me back onto the road."
"He wanted to crush me to death. If people in the alley hadn’t heard the commotion and rushed out, I’d already be dead."
Hearing this, Jiang Si couldn’t help but frown.
This wasn’t just assault—it was attempted murder!
At that moment, Huo Tingzhou returned.
Jiang Si immediately set up the drawing board, but upon seeing her bag, she changed her mind.
She pulled out a template of facial features she had drawn some time ago.
"Shimu, take a look—which hairstyle matches his?"
In this era, men’s hairstyles were limited to just a few types. The assailant likely hadn’t expected Fang Wenjun to survive, so he hadn’t taken many precautions—just a simple sanitary mask.
But he didn’t realize that extreme fear could sharpen one’s memory.
Fang Wenjun had locked eyes with him for less than two seconds, yet his upper face was seared into her mind.
This was also why, after undergoing hypnosis, Huo Tingzhou had been able to describe Third Master Yan’s facial features in such detail.
"This one, but his bangs were slightly longer."
Jiang Si nodded and noted the detail.
Next came the eyebrows and eyes.
Since Jiang Si’s facial feature templates were extensive, Fang Wenjun found matching shapes in just a few minutes.
Jiang Si combined all the features, then covered the lower half of the face with a blank sheet.
The moment Fang Wenjun saw the sketch, her body trembled uncontrollably before she could even speak.
After calming herself, she said, "His eyes were narrower and longer, with a few wrinkles under the lower eyelids. He also smelled like engine oil, and his height was around 1.75 meters..."
Half an hour later, Jiang Si handed her the revised sketch.
This time, Fang Wenjun’s trembling was mixed with determination.
"That’s him. This sketch is at least 80% accurate to the man I saw."
Jiang Si stayed at the hospital until past five in the evening, only leaving with Huo Tingzhou after Fang Wenjun’s family arrived.
On their way back, they detoured to the police station to submit the finalized suspect sketch.
The officers’ expressions turned to shock when they saw it.
But their own progress wasn’t bad either.
Though the suspect had cunningly removed his license plate, that didn’t stump the police.
Since February 1967, when the Beijing Public Security Bureau established the Military Control Commission, they had taken over vehicle registration, annual inspections, and accident handling for the entire city.
So, after returning to headquarters, the officers had immediately pulled records for all registered government vehicles.
Currently, there were 22,000 government vehicles in the city.
After excluding trucks, buses, Jeeps, Hongqi limousines, Volgas, and other outdated models, only about 800 Shanghai-made SH760s remained in Beijing.
Further narrowing it down by colors—dark gray, beige, and olive green—left around 300 vehicles.
Now, with the suspect’s sketch, the officers estimated they’d catch him within three days.
Reassured by this, Jiang Si felt slightly better.
Early the next morning, she brought a pot of bone broth infused with spiritual spring water to the hospital.
After a night’s rest, Fang Wenjun’s complexion had improved slightly.
After confirming with the doctor that she could eat, Jiang Si fed her a small bowl of broth and updated her on the police’s progress.
As they spoke, a knock came at the door.
Jiang Si assumed it was President Zhou and the others, but when the door opened, Qiu Yashu stood outside.
Both Jiang Si and Fang Wenjun stared in shock and confusion.
Finally, Jiang Si broke the silence. "What are you doing here?"
"I... I heard Vice President Fang was injured. I came to see her."
"Heard? From whom?"
"Do you think my injury gives you an opportunity? Dream on!"
After the incident with the cotton shoes and yesterday’s brush with death, even Fang Wenjun’s patience had worn thin.
If not for fear of disrupting the investigation, she would’ve confronted Qiu Yashu right then.
"I don’t want to see you again. Leave."
"I know you won’t believe me, but I didn’t do this!"
"I only found out you were hospitalized when I went to your house this morning."
Qiu Yashu took a deep breath, as if suddenly unburdened.
"I do hate you, but I never wanted you dead."
"You hate me?" Fang Wenjun’s voice was disbelieving.
"Yes, I hate you!"
"Ever since you taught me to paint, all my time has gone into it. I couldn’t do anything else."
"I used to love painting, but all of you pushed me!"
"I improved, but it was never enough for you. You always thought I could do better."
"But I’m just an ordinary person. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t meet your expectations."
"My skills were limited—I couldn’t get into art school."
Fang Wenjun: "But didn’t you fail because of your hand injury?"
"That was a lie. My hand was never injured."
"If I hadn't said that, you’d be disappointed in me, wouldn’t you? And my parents would just scold me for being stupid, for failing to live up to their expectations."
Fang Wenjun couldn’t understand. "If you don’t like painting, then why…"
"Because I have no other choice!"
Qiu Yashu said, "Not every university is like the Central Academy of Fine Arts. Our school doesn’t even teach specialized courses anymore. Most of the time, we’re either sent to the countryside for labor practice or working in factories for free. And after graduation, there’s no job placement."
"If I don’t seize this opportunity, once I graduate, I’ll be sent to the rural areas like those middle and high school graduates."
"Then what was the point of me studying painting for over ten years?"
Since things had already come this far, Qiu Yashu decided to lay it all out.
"I was a little resentful, so I told them I was your disciple."
"And the incident with the cotton shoes—that was my doing too. Including spreading rumors, trying to take advantage of the situation to assist Jiang Si."
"I admit to all of it. But I never intended to take your life."
Originally, she had wanted to say: That day, when you were about to fall down the stairs, I was right behind you.
In truth, it wasn’t just Jiang Si who reached out to catch you.
She had reached out too—only Jiang Si was faster.
But there was no point in saying that now. It was her own fault for letting her mind spiral the moment she heard others talk about how valuable this opportunity was.
After a long silence, Qiu Yashu set the bag of apples she was holding on the ground.
She was about to say: Be careful. There are more people than just me who want to take your place.
But before she could speak, someone shoved her aside with force—
