"When did you get pricked here?" Wang Jian asked, squeezing the flesh on Cai Qiong's thigh and pointing to a small red dot.
It was a tiny pinprick on the outer side of her thigh, so small that it would be easily missed without a close look.
"I don't know." Cai Qiong saw it when Wang Jian pointed it out, but she was baffled. "Why is there a wound here?"
Although she was a psychologist, she could still tell the difference between a wound and folliculitis. She sank into thought, but after wracking her brain, she couldn't remember how she got it.
Wang Jian frowned. "This is a fresh wound. It's so fine that it might have been caused by a thin, soft needle like those used for acupuncture, or maybe it's a puncture from something sharp."
Since he frequently handled silver needles, Wang Jian was very familiar with this kind of mark. He had felt something was odd the moment he saw the red dot on her leg.
