The Secret of the Yoga Club: The Women's Identity is Not Simple

An old man with gray hair sat on a cement slab next to the courtyard, his legs crossed, a cigarette between his fingers.

He was wearing a faded gray Zhongshan suit and black cloth shoes.

Seeing Lin Feng walk out of the stairwell, he threw his cigarette butt on the ground and crushed it with the sole of his shoe, then took out a black pistol from the inner pocket of his Zhongshan suit.

It was an old-fashioned Type 54 pistol. Most of the blueing on the gun body had been worn away, but the barrel was well-maintained.

Uncle Kun waved the gun at Lin Feng, signaling him to stay put, and then spoke, his tone unhurried, as if he were catching up with an old friend.

"Finally here. Lin Feng, do you know how many families have been ruined because of you? Zuo Ning is in jail, his men have scattered or been arrested, and dozens of them can't even get a meal now. I started following Old Master Zuo when I was fifteen, and I rose from a bricklayer to an old man who manages that area in the east of the city. I don't have a son, the gang is my son. Now that my son is gone, what am I supposed to do?"

He placed the pistol on his knee and pulled a dagger from behind his waist, throwing it at Lin Feng's feet.

The dagger slid a short distance on the concrete.

"I'm a man of principle. According to the old rules of the underworld, it's a life for a life. You stab yourself in the thigh, and you save someone. One stab for one person, fair and reasonable. The other one, consider it something you owe me. You have three minutes to consider. If you haven't chosen by then, you two will both go down together." He glanced down at the old-fashioned mechanical watch on his wrist, tapping the dial lightly with his fingers. "Start the timer now."

Lin Feng bent down and picked up the dagger. The handle was wrapped with non-slip black tape, and it felt heavy in his hand.

He straightened up and looked at Uncle Kun, who was about ten meters away from him and was holding a pistol. He then looked at Shen Qianqian and Zhou Mei, who were hanging on the scaffolding.

Both of them could hear every word Uncle Kun had just said. Shen Qianqian was shaking her head frantically, and a rapid whimpering sound came from behind the strip of cloth as her body twisted wildly in mid-air.

Zhou Mei was also shaking her head, though not as violently as Shen Qianqian, but tears were already flowing from under the blindfold, dripping down her chin onto her shirt collar.

One was his girlfriend. The other was a woman with whom he had been intimate.

This choice is more cruel than stabbing him in the back.

"Two minutes left." Uncle Kun leaned against the concrete pillar behind him, his finger slowly tracing circles on the trigger guard of his pistol. "Young man, stop dawdling. I've seen much tougher situations before, and people made their decisions in three seconds. You have two minutes, that's not a short time."

Lin Feng gripped the dagger and stared at the two ropes. The ropes hung down from the steel beams on the ceiling, their ends tied to their wrists that were bound behind their backs.

Shen Qianqian's rope was tied to the steel beam on the left side of the courtyard, while Zhou Mei's rope was tied to the right. There was no obstruction in the middle of the courtyard, and the height of the sixth floor was enough to kill anyone who fell.

Lin Feng took a deep breath and aimed the dagger at the outside of his left thigh. There were no major arteries in this location, and the muscle layer was thick, so it wouldn't damage the bone or be fatal.

He learned basic anatomy during his yoga instructor training and knows which parts of the human body can withstand knife wounds.

He pressed the tip of the knife against his pants and stabbed it in forcefully.

The knife tip pierced through the pants and into the muscle on the outside of the thigh. A sharp pain exploded from the wound, spreading up the thigh to the waist, and then down to the calf.

Gritting his teeth, he pulled the blade out, blood gushing from the wound, instantly staining a large patch of his trouser leg red. He covered the wound with his hand, blood seeping from between his fingers and dripping onto the cement floor, leaving several dark red dots.

When Shen Qianqian saw the blood dripping on the ground, she writhed frantically like a madwoman, the gag in her mouth was bitten out of shape, and the sounds coming from her throat changed from whimpering to hoarse cries.

Zhou Mei was also struggling; the tears flowing from under the blindfold had soaked a large area of ​​her shirt collar.

Lin Feng pushed himself up from the ground, his injured leg trembling, but he managed to stand firm.

He looked up at Uncle Kun, his forehead covered in cold sweat. "Put one down first."

Uncle Kun stood up, threw the cigarette butt on the ground, and slowly crushed it out with the sole of his shoe. He raised his pistol, pointing the muzzle at Lin Feng, "I'm a man of principle, no bargaining. Which one do you want me to place? Name it."

Lin Feng looked at the two ropes and the two women struggling in mid-air.

His lips moved slightly, then closed again. The wind blowing up from the courtyard made the scaffolding's iron pipes creak slightly.

Uncle Kun tapped his finger lightly on the trigger of the pistol, each tap like a countdown.

I don't know how much time passed.

"Shen Qianqian." Lin Feng's voice was dry and hoarse, as if it were squeezed out of sandpaper.

Uncle Kun looked up and laughed, his laughter echoing in the empty concrete frame, lingering for a long time.

He coughed a few times, clutching his chest, the laughter and coughing mingling together, making his face look somewhat distorted.

After laughing, he pointed the gun at the pillar next to him and said, "Go, put her down yourself. I want you to send her off with your own hands, and then watch her fall."

Lin Feng, clutching the wound on his thigh, limped towards the pillar to which Zhou Mei was tied by a rope. Each step aggravated the wound, and blood seeped from between his fingers, leaving a long, dark red trail on the concrete ground behind him.

He walked to the pillar and reached out to untie the knot.

Uncle Kun stood a few meters behind him, holding a gun in one hand and clutching his chest with the other, and started coughing again.

Thinking about what was about to happen, he felt a strange excitement. This cough was longer than before, and the sound came from deep in his lungs, like a broken bellows desperately trying to inhale.

His back hunched even deeper, and he curled up into a ball while coughing, his hand holding the gun shifting slightly as his body trembled.

Lin Feng kept glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

Just as he was coughing so hard that he was almost bent over like a shrimp, Lin Feng turned around and rushed over.

His injured leg nearly caused him to fall on his first step, but he gritted his teeth and lunged at Uncle Kun with all his might.

Then he hurled the dagger in his hand at Uncle Kun. The dagger twirled a few times in the air, the hilt hitting Uncle Kun's shoulder and bouncing off without causing any real damage, but Uncle Kun instinctively took a step back and raised the hand holding the gun.

Just then, a shot rang out.

It wasn't Uncle Kun's gun.

The bullet came from that unfinished building across the street. It whistled past Lin Feng's head and struck Uncle Kun precisely in the left side of his chest.

Uncle Kun's body jolted violently, and a dark red flower of blood bloomed on his chest, near his heart.

He looked down at the rapidly spreading bloodstains on his chest, his expression shifting from disdain to surprise, and then from surprise to bewilderment.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but couldn't say anything. The hand holding the gun dropped down first, and the pistol fell to the concrete floor, bounced, and rolled to the corner of the wall.

Then he fell backward, his back hitting the edge of the concrete slab. He slid a short distance along the sloping floor and came to a stop, his eyes still open, his pupils already beginning to dilate.

On the rooftop of the building across the street, Ye Qinghan lay prone on the rough concrete surface, his right eye pressed against the scope of a sniper rifle.

She was wearing a black combat uniform, the butt of her rifle pressed against her shoulder, and the muzzle was still emitting a faint wisp of smoke.

From the moment Lin Feng walked into that building, she was watching him through the scope. She saw Uncle Kun's chest aligned with Lin Feng's silhouette in the scope, and then her finger gently pulled the trigger.

She was a shooting champion at the police academy, able to hit the bullseye of a coin from 100 meters away.

There was no suspense in this shot.