Mianmian rushed straight to the dormitory in the back alley of the nightclub. She knocked on the door for a long time before a faint, almost inaudible groan came from inside.
“Yingying? It’s me, Mianmian!” Her heart sank, and she pushed hard against the door.
The door wasn’t locked; it creaked open with a groan.
A heavy, metallic smell of sweat mixed with a faint, underlying stench of feces assaulted her senses.
Yingying was curled up on the narrow single bed, looking as if she had been dragged from water. Strands of hair clung to her pale face and neck. Her eyes were half-open, pupils unfocused.
“Uh… ah…”
The groans were incoherent, a raw, animalistic expression of pure pain.
Her T-shirt was soaked through, plastered to her skin, outlining the terrifying contour of her abdomen.
Her belly was now contracting, tightening, and relaxing in irregular but intensely violent waves. With each contraction, Yingying’s body arched, her throat emitting a “hah… hah…” sound, like the gasps of a dying animal. Her fingers dug desperately into the thin mattress.
“Yingying!” Mianmian rushed over, wanting to touch her but afraid to. “Why haven’t you given birth yet?”
Based on Mianmian’s few experiences witnessing childbirth, pain as severe as what Yingying had yesterday should have meant the baby would come quickly.
Yingying heard her voice, struggled to shift her gaze, and looked at her with unfocused eyes. She opened her mouth but only managed a few broken syllables:
“Don’t… know…”
Mianmian saw her lips were dry and cracked, the water cup by the bed empty. Her heart ached as she asked:
“Have you had any water? Any food?”
Yingying shook her head almost imperceptibly, tears mingling with sweat as they streamed down:
“Can’t… eat… It hurts… Help me look… why won’t it come out… I can’t see…”
Mianmian’s head buzzed. Such intense contractions had been going on for over 24 hours—how could she not have given birth yet?
She lifted the soaked hem of the T-shirt and could clearly see a certain area protruding unnaturally.
Just then, the dormitory door was violently kicked open with a loud bang, slamming against the wall.
Sister Li’s heavily made-up face appeared in the doorway, her expression one of undisguised annoyance and fury.
“Xu Hongying! You jinx! Lying around playing dead in broad daylight instead of working?”
Her shrill voice was almost ear-piercing. She strode in, her strong perfume unable to mask the disgust in her tone.
“Get out now! If you’re going to die, do it somewhere else! Don’t give birth on my turf—it’s bad luck! Hear me? Get out!”
Yingying flinched violently at her shout, struggling to sit up, but the excruciating pain and exhaustion left her powerless. She could only gasp and tremble helplessly.
“Sister Li, I’m not giving birth… I just ate something bad, have some bloating…”
Mianmian silently stepped in front of the bed, blocking the way.
“Who do you think you are? Daring to block me?” Sister Li glared fiercely at Mianmian and reached out to grab Yingying’s arm. “Get up now! Get out! Don’t dirty my place!”
“Ah—!” As Sister Li pulled, Yingying let out a piercing scream, jerked violently, and tumbled off the bed, landing heavily on the floor.
Almost simultaneously, there was a muffled “squelch,” and a large gush of warm, dark green fluid instantly splattered across the floor.
Yingying collapsed onto the floor, her body convulsing and curling uncontrollably from the intense contractions and pain.
She tried to get up, but her limbs felt weak and foreign, and she couldn’t even cry out in a coherent tone—only emitting desperate, broken moans. Her legs involuntarily spread apart, her heavy belly swaying with her struggles.
“Look! Still saying she’s not about to give birth! What bad luck! This is just fucking awful!”
Sister Li covered her nose and jumped back a step, as if the floor were contaminated with some filthy plague, her face twisted in even deeper disgust.
“Get her out of here! Security! Where’s security?!”
Mianmian stared at Yingying writhing in agony on the floor, then at Sister Li’s cold, disdainful face, eager to wash her hands of the situation. A surge of adrenaline shot straight to her head.
She spread her arms wide, shielding Yingying tightly, her voice trembling with anger and fear but forcing herself to stand tall:
“Don’t touch her! You’re just standing by and letting her die!”
“Hahaha…” Sister Li laughed as if she’d heard the biggest joke of her life, her bright red nail-polished finger nearly poking Mianmian’s nose. “Is this student trying to lecture me? Security! Throw both of them out!”
Two burly security guards appeared at the door and strode inside with menacing expressions.
Mianmian’s heart pounded wildly, her back instantly soaked in cold sweat, but she didn’t retreat a single step. Instead, she shielded Yingying even more tightly.
On the floor, Yingying’s moans had turned into stifled, forceful grunts, her face flushed a deep, purplish red.
Just as the security guard’s hand was about to grab Mianmian’s arm—
“I’d like to see who dares touch her.”
A voice tinged with casual indifference sounded from the doorway.
Everyone froze, including Mianmian.
She whipped her head around and saw Jiang Yu’an leaning casually against the doorframe, one hand tucked into his jeans pocket.
The dim hallway light cast from behind him, his tall figure throwing a long shadow across the entrance.
His face showed no particular expression, but his gaze swept across the room, pausing briefly on Sister Li and the two security guards before finally settling on Mianmian’s pale yet stubborn face. He frowned slightly.
“Who the hell are you? Daring to cause trouble on my turf?” Sister Li was momentarily taken aback by this sudden stranger and his seemingly casual yet chilling presence, then grew even more furious. “Mind your own damn business!”
Jiang Yu’an ignored her entirely and walked straight in.
The two security guards tried to block him, but a single cold glance from him made them hesitate inexplicably.
He simply walked past them, stopping beside Mianmian. First, he glanced down at Yingying, who was now barely conscious, reduced to instinctive moans and straining, then looked up at Mianmian.
“Ji Mianmian,” he said, his voice calm yet sending an involuntary shiver down Mianmian’s spine. “You’ve got quite the nerve. Tutoring someone all the way to a nightclub?”
Mianmian panicked. “Jiang Yu’an! Wh-what are you doing here?”
“I came to see which place had such charm that it kept you out until midnight every day.”
He stood tall, looking down at her slightly trembling arms and her face, feigning composure.
“And now you’ve learned to pick fights?” Jiang Yu’an’s gaze was hard to read—whether mocking or something else. “Step aside.”
Mianmian instinctively shifted to the side.
Jiang Yu’an crouched down. He did not rush to touch Yingying, who was writhing in pain on the ground. Instead, his gaze swept over her quickly and professionally, checking her pupils and complexion, then glancing at the color and amount of amniotic fluid beneath her.
Only then did he reach out, take a plastic bag from the nearby table, put it over his hand, and press several points on her severely distended lower abdomen through her soaked T-shirt.
The entire process took no more than two or three seconds. His movements were professional, calm, and even carried a cold precision that felt out of place in the chaotic, filthy environment.
Yingying let out another pained whimper under his touch.
“What are you doing?! I’m telling you, I—” Sister Li shrieked.
Jiang Yu’an stood up, took out his phone from his pocket, quickly dialed 110, and reported the nightclub’s name and the specific alley location in a tone so steady it was almost cold:
“Emergency medical assistance and police support are needed here. Someone on-site is obstructing treatment, possibly involving illegal confinement and personal injury.”
“There is a woman in labor here. The fetal head is already low, but labor has stalled. The fetus is in distress, with grade three meconium-stained amniotic fluid. The mother shows signs of exhaustion and dehydration.”
He spoke quickly, but every word was clear.
Sister Li and the two security guards’ expressions changed.
“What nonsense are you talking?! Who’s obstructing treatment? Who’s illegally confining anyone?” Sister Li shouted, her voice fierce but her confidence clearly faltering.
Jiang Yu’an hung up the phone, then finally lifted his eyelids to glance at her. His gaze was as if looking at some irrelevant piece of trash.
“Whether I’m talking nonsense or not, we’ll see when the police and ambulance arrive. Oh, and,” he shook his phone, “the call was recorded, starting from when I entered. Would you like me to play it for you?”
Sister Li’s face instantly paled.
Seizing the opportunity, Mianmian quickly crouched down, took Yingying’s cold hand, and whispered comfortingly:
“Don’t be afraid, Yingying. The ambulance will be here soon. Just hold on a little longer…”