Chapter 321: Coerced by the Female Forensic Medic

She could clearly feel Lin Yuan lightly pressing against her finger wound.

His mouth didn't exert force, yet it had a delicate touch, slowly wrapping around the bleeding spot.

Yin Yirou's ear tips reddened first, as if steamed by the kitchen's heat, then that red spread up her neck.

Even her cheeks burned; she felt scalded and wanted to pull away, but Lin Yuan held her wrist, so she couldn't move.

She lowered her gaze, able to see the top of Lin Yuan's head…

His hair was a bit soft, the ends brushing against the back of her hand, bringing a slight itch.

His eyelashes were very long; when they drooped, they cast a faint shadow under his eyes, making him look as serious as if he were examining an important piece of evidence, rather than holding her finger.

The wound on her fingertip still throbbed faintly, but that pain had long been overwhelmed by the panic in her heart—

This was the first time a man had been this close to her—not a polite greeting, not work-related contact, but an intimate gesture filled with warmth.

Her fingers curled slightly, letting her cheeks redden to the point of almost dripping blood.

Lin Yuan held it for a few seconds, feeling the bleeding slow, then slowly released her fingertip; Yin Yirou's heartbeat quickened.

He lifted his head to look at her, not noticing her fully flushed face, merely furrowing his brow and saying:

"Don't touch water for now; I'll go to the living room to get a band-aid, you wait here."

Saying that, Lin Yuan turned and walked out, leaving Yin Yirou alone standing in the kitchen.

She held her still‑hot finger, watching his back; her heart felt like a startled deer bumping around, even the kitchen's water sounds became unusually clear, pounding her with anxiety.

After finding the band‑aid, Lin Yuan helped Yin Yirou apply it and wrapped it up.

Lin Yuan took the kitchen knife from Yin Yirou's hand, gently placed it on the cutting board, his tone carrying an irresistible seriousness:

"Go sit in the living room and rest a bit; fried rice is simple, I'll be done soon—don't get involved here."

Yin Yirou still wanted to say, "I can help peel some garlic," but seeing Lin Yuan already turn, open the fridge and grab eggs, she swallowed the words.

She could only obediently leave the kitchen, sit on the living‑room sofa, yet her gaze kept drifting toward the kitchen.

Soon, sounds came from the kitchen—

The crisp crack of eggs breaking, the sizzle of oil hitting the pan, the splash of rice poured into the pot, and the light clink of the spatula against the iron pot—these tiny sounds mingled, actually giving off a comforting homely vibe.

Not long after, a rich aroma drifted out from the kitchen.

First came the toasted scent of eggs, then the clean fragrance of rice, mixed with a hint of fresh green onion, drifting through the air toward the living room…

The aroma made Yin Yirou's stomach growl "gurgle" again; she instinctively touched her belly, and the corners of her mouth couldn't help but turn up.

After another two or three minutes, Lin Yuan came out holding a white porcelain bowl.

The bowl was filled with fried rice, steaming hot, still sending up white vapor.

Yin Yirou leaned in to look—

The rice grains were distinct, coated with a thin sheen of oil but not greasy; golden egg bits were evenly mixed in, sprinkled with bits of green onion and red ham, the colors bright and appealing—just looking at it stirred appetite.

"Try it quickly; it won't taste good when cold." Lin Yuan pushed the bowl toward Yin Yirou and handed her a spoon as well.

Yin Yirou took the spoon, first scooping a small spoonful into her mouth—

As soon as her teeth touched the rice, she felt the grains' springiness; the egg coating outside was tender enough to seem about to melt, the saltiness just right, with no eggy odor; the salty fragrance of the ham and the freshness of the onion mingled, exploding on her tongue, making even the chewing feel fragrant.

Her motion froze instantly, her eyes widened, still with rice in her mouth, she couldn't help but lift her head to look at Lin Yuan, her eyes full of disbelief, her voice tinged with it:

"This… this fried rice is too delicious, isn't it?"

Lin Yuan leaned against the sofa arm, watching her shocked expression, scratched his head and laughed: "Just ordinary fried rice, no special ingredients—if you like it, eat more."

"Ordinary? How is this ordinary at all!" Yin Yirou scooped another large spoonful and shoved it into her mouth, this time chewing more slowly, savoring the flavor:

"I've had chef‑made fried rice at Michelin restaurants before, and none were this fragrant! Your rice isn't sticky at all, the eggs are so tender, even the green onions are cooked just right—neither raw nor burnt—this is the best fried rice I've ever eaten in my life!"

She said that, then sent another spoonful to her mouth, eating until the tip of her nose turned slightly red.

She had completely lost her usual calm, stern demeanor at crime scenes; instead she looked like a little girl who'd gotten her favorite snack, eyes bright and full of joy.

Yin Yirou scooped another spoonful of fried rice; the aroma in her mouth hadn't faded, but the joy rising from the delicious food was gradually pressed down by guilt.

She slowed her chewing, her gaze falling on the golden egg bits in the bowl, fell silent for a few seconds, then gently set down the spoon, her fingertip unconsciously brushing the warm rim of the bowl.

"Lin Yuan," she lifted her eyes, the joy in her depths fading a little, replaced by several points of sincere apology, her voice also softened: "At the crime scene earlier, I… I shouldn't have been so arbitrary, denying your assessment of the corpse without hearing your analysis through."

Now thinking about it, I was too stubborn; sorry.

Having said that, she slightly lowered her gaze, like a child who'd done wrong, her fingers curling a little, waiting for Lin Yuan's response.

Lin Yuan still leaned against the sofa arm; hearing this, he raised an eyebrow, then smiled.

Lin Yuan's tone remained gentle, with no hint of resentment: "It's fine; back then the situation was urgent, everyone wanted to find clues quickly, you were also thinking of the case. Besides, my diagnosis really was a bit unexpected—it's normal you didn't believe it; I just happened to guess right."

"It wasn't just luck."

Yin Yirou immediately lifted her head to rebut, her eyes shining brightly, with undeniable seriousness:

"You could tell from the corpse's subtle reactions that something was off, and accurately judged it was a fake—this definitely isn't luck, it's that you truly have skill. I've been in the forensic department for so long, I've seen many experienced seniors, none as perceptive as you."

She paused, then eagerly and curiously asked: "How exactly did you discover the corpse was faked? I later repeatedly recalled the scene's details, yet I can't figure it out—clearly all the preliminary checks indicated real death, yet you could see the flaw."

Lin Yuan pondered for a few seconds before speaking:

"Actually, it's because of a technique in ancient martial arts called the Turtle Breath Technique. That 'corpse' used this method to put the body into a hibernation‑like state, lowering breathing and heart rate to extremely low levels, thus fooling routine examinations."

"Turtle Breath Technique?"

Yin Yirou's spoon in her hand made a "clack" against the bowl's rim; her eyes widened in shock: "This… this isn't something that only exists in martial‑arts novels, is it? Does it really exist in reality? I've only seen it in books before, and I thought it was made up."

She had lived this long, exposed only to professional forensic knowledge—anatomy, pathology, solid science—and had never linked the martial‑arts "kung fu" from novels to reality, let alone apply it to corpse examination at a crime scene.

Lin Yuan patiently explained: "It does exist, just not as mysterious as novels portray."

"In scientific terms, the Turtle Breath Technique actually uses specific breathing and muscle control to put the body into a low‑metabolism state, like animal hibernation, reducing breathing frequency to one or two per minute. The heart rate also drops significantly, and surface temperature falls accordingly, making it look no different from death."

He paused, then added:

"This is an ancient martial‑arts skill that has existed since the Yanxia era; in the past, some martial practitioners used it to avoid danger or to regulate their bodies during training."

"But nowadays society is different—we don't make a living with fists; people value professional skills and intellect more, so these ancient martial arts have gradually faded, and few know them. I, too, learned a bit of the basics from my elders as a child, which let me recognize this state."

Yin Yirou listened, stunned, forgetting to eat the fried rice in her hand; the steam from the bowl's rim slowly drifted, blurring her vision.

She looked at Lin Yuan, suddenly feeling that this person before her had become extraordinarily unfamiliar—

He not only could make astonishing fried rice, understood forensic corpse examination, and even knew the lost ancient martial arts.

Yin Yirou stared at Lin Yuan's eyes, suddenly recalling how he had just explained ancient martial arts with science, and another question rose in her mind.

"You understand ancient martial arts and can explain the scientific principles," she leaned in, her tone full of curiosity, "Could it be that you also studied traditional Chinese medicine before?"

Lin Yuan heard her words and nodded: "Our family's inherited traditional Chinese medicine; as a child I followed my grandfather to learn herbs, and also learned some skills of pulse diagnosis and treatment."

"Inherited traditional Chinese medicine?" Yin Yirou's eyes lit up, she immediately seized the point, "Can you teach me?"

"In forensic work we sometimes encounter difficult corpses, for example when the cause of death is unclear," her eyes full of expectation, "If we knew a bit of TCM's four diagnostic methods, we might make new discoveries."

Lin Yuan, however, shook his head, his tone carrying an unyielding seriousness: "No, our family's TCM technique has rules."

"Only passed down to family members, not to outsiders."

The expectation on Yin Yirou's face faded a little, but she hadn't given up completely, and she changed the subject: "Would you consider joining our Forensic Medical Team?"

"You understand corpse examination, and also know ancient martial arts and traditional Chinese medicine," she said, feeling more and more that it was fitting, "With your abilities, you would definitely be of great help."

After hearing her, Lin Yuan laughed, waved his hand and directly refused: "Forget it, I'm used to being free."

Joking, he's a wanderer of the martial world, how could he join the Forensic Medical Team?

Lin Yuan directly shook his head and refused.

Yin Yirou watched his straightforward refusal, not discouraged, and continued, "Then teach me traditional Chinese medicine."

Lin Yuan said helplessly, "I said, our Lin Clan's traditional Chinese medicine is only passed down to family members..."

Yin Yirou stared at him for a few seconds, then drew out her tone: "Only passed down to family members..."

A spark flashed in her eyes, the corner of her mouth slowly curling into a faint arc: "Or how about I become your family member?"

Lin Yuan:????

He suddenly widened his eyes, instinctively sat up straight, his tone full of bewilderment: "How would that work?"

"Before, aside from the case, we had no connection at all," he scratched his head, his eyes full of confusion, "Where would any family relationship come from?"

"Relationships can change..." Yin Yirou slowly shifted her body forward, the sofa cushion sinking slightly under her weight.

"For example..." As she spoke, she had already nearly leaned against Lin Yuan, her warm breath lightly brushing his ear.

A faint gardenia scent suddenly drifted into Lin Yuan's nostrils, her fragrance, fresh and clean, yet inexplicably made his heart flutter.

He instinctively wanted to retreat, but his gaze involuntarily fell on her face.

He saw her lowered eyelashes, fine and dense, like tiny fans, trembling slightly with her breath.

Further down, her slightly pursed lips, still bearing a faint sheen of oil from the fried rice she had just eaten, looked soft and inviting, making one unable to resist wanting to look longer.

She suddenly lifted her gaze, the depths of her eyes bright as if stars had fallen, her voice soft and gentle, directly striking Lin Yuan's heart...

At this moment Lin Yuan panicked, he instinctively leaned back, and ended up with his whole body pressed onto the sofa by Yin Yirou...