11
The Upper Defibrillator
Chapter 11: Apply Defibrillator
After downing a glass of alcohol, Jiang You felt severely dizzy. The moment he got up from the bed, he collapsed onto the floor due to the overwhelming dizziness.
Yi Bei’an hooked his arms under Jiang You’s and lifted him from the ground. “You’ve gone too far, Jing.”
Fu Jing pressed his lips into a thin line, his face dark as he stared at Jiang You.
Jiang You broke free from Yi Bei’an’s hold but nearly stumbled again from the dizziness. Yi Bei’an swiftly caught and steadied him.
Jiang You leaned against Yi Bei’an bonelessly, pressing close to his body.
In that instant, Yi Bei’an thought: Damn, he smells incredible, President Jiang.
Fu Jing’s brows furrowed deeply, creases carving across his forehead.
Jiang You staggered toward him, wrapping his arms around Fu Jing’s waist. “Husband, did you see? I can drink too. I’ll do anything you want.”
It was strange.
Fu Jing had always taken pleasure in humiliating Jiang You, but seeing him so debased now brought no satisfaction. Instead, an inexplicable irritation simmered within him.
“Could you just disappear from my sight?” Fu Jing glared coldly at Jiang You.
“Sorry, Fu Jing… ruining your birthday mood.” Jiang You swayed as he stood, patting Fu Jing’s shoulder lightly. “Have fun with your friends. I’ll head out first.”
With that, Jiang You stumbled away, steps uneven.
Soon after, Fu Jing and Yi Bei’an emerged from the small room.
The door had been left open, and every sound inside had been clearly audible to those outside. The gathered crowd had witnessed it all.
“Jing, your President Jiang is seriously hot. I’m totally into him. Since you don’t want him, how about letting him consider me?”
“Your President Jiang is too bold, Jing. So fierce, man.”
Fu Jing’s friends took turns teasing him.
Fu Jing remained silent, his expression stormy. He crossed his arms and slumped into the sofa, radiating low pressure.
“Enough, Jing. You were in the wrong here. If you want to mess around, do it privately. You’re just being stubborn—no one drinks like President Jiang did. Go check on him; make sure he’s okay,” Yi Bei’an urged.
Fu Jing stood with his hands on his hips for a moment, then grabbed a glass of alcohol and downed it in one go. He slammed the empty glass onto the table and strode out of the private room.
Worried he might not catch up to Jiang You, Fu Jing quickened his pace, only to find Jiang You slumped in the corridor not far away.
“Get up,” Fu Jing said, nudging Jiang You’s thigh with his foot.
Jiang You didn’t budge.
Fu Jing gripped his wrist and turned him over. Jiang You’s face and neck were flushed pink, saturated with alcohol.
Fu Jing stepped over him, then hooked his hands under Jiang You’s armpits and hauled him up from the floor.
Jiang You’s head lolled, his body limp.
Fu Jing let out a long sigh. He wrapped one arm around Jiang You’s back and the other under his knees, lifting him into a carry.
He had never held Jiang You like this before, yet this was the second time in a short span. Jiang You was lighter than he had imagined, and Fu Jing wondered where all the man’s meals went.
After dumping Jiang You onto the bed, Fu Jing stood watching him for a few seconds before leaving.
When Fu Jing returned, Yi Bei’an sat beside him. “Is your President Jiang alright?”
“Blacked out,” Fu Jing replied, grabbing a glass of fruit wine and draining it in one gulp.
“President Jiang is devoted to you. Don’t push it too far,” Yi Bei’an advised.
Fu Jing shot him a glare.
“Seriously, Jing, I genuinely think President Jiang is a good guy. You should quit while you’re ahead.”
Fu Jing scowled at him. “What? Dr. Yi, are you also into Jiang You?”
Yi Bei’an nodded repeatedly, “Anyway, if President Jiang pursued me, I’d definitely say yes.”
“…” Fu Jing, “Didn’t you always boast about being a straight-as-steel man? When did you switch sides?”
Yi Bei’an: “Just now.”
Yi Bei’an had never seen anyone chase their partner so fiercely. A man pursuing his beloved never seemed cheap—it only made him appear deeply devoted.
President Jiang was just too compelling. If someone pursued Yi Bei’an like that, he’d be utterly mesmerized and follow them without a second thought.
Fu Jing recalled how Jiang You had leaned into Yi Bei’an’s embrace earlier and unconsciously licked his molars.
“…”
When Fu Jing returned, Jiang You was fast asleep, still in the exact position Fu Jing had left him, unchanged.
Fu Jing, drunk, took a quick shower and came back, pushed Jiang You aside, and collapsed next to him to sleep.
Sometime in the dead of night, Fu Jing was awakened by a persistent vibrating sound. Thinking it was his phone, he fumbled for it but realized it wasn’t.
He turned to check Jiang You’s phone—still not the source.
Finally, he discovered it was Jiang You’s smartwatch.
He lifted Jiang You’s wrist, pushed back the sweater sleeve, and suddenly noticed the watch emitting a glaring red light.
When he saw the vital signs data warning of Jiang You’s abnormal heart rate, Fu Jing thought he was seeing things. Instinctively, he tightened his grip on Jiang You’s wrist and pulled it closer. The warning symbol flashed frantically along with the rapid vibrations.
Fu Jing slapped Jiang You’s face hard, trying to wake him, but Jiang You showed no response.
In the silent night, the electronic watch’s vibrations sounded piercing, inexplicably accelerating his own heartbeat several times over.
Fu Jing quickly switched on the main room light. The harsh cold light made Jiang You’s face appear paler than the bedsheets.
He rubbed his face vigorously to dispel the sudden surge of panic, then lifted Jiang You from the bed.
Jiang You’s body was unnaturally limp, his head and neck hanging weakly backward, his breath as light as a feather.
Fu Jing swallowed hard, cradled Jiang You’s head, and lifted it. “Jiang You, wake up…”
He squeezed Jiang You’s hand, which lay limp on the bed—it was alarmingly cold.
Fu Jing’s heart pounded violently in his chest; he could hear his own heartbeat through his bones and skin.
Almost mechanically, relying on his remaining rationality and common sense, he laid Jiang You flat on the bed. Fu Jing interlocked his hands and pressed down on Jiang You’s chest.
Jiang You was too thin; Fu Jing didn’t dare use full force, but after several futile attempts, as despair grew heavier, he began to increase the pressure.
Just as he was about to lose control and reach for his phone to call an ambulance, the door burst open. Zhao Linsheng rushed in, followed by a team of medical staff.
Zhao Linsheng shoved Fu Jing aside, and the medical personnel immediately stepped forward, straddling Jiang You to perform resuscitation.
Zhao Linsheng’s face was dark with fury, as if ready to kill. As he approached Jiang You, he caught a strong whiff of alcohol.
“Did you let him drink?” Zhao Linsheng demanded of Fu Jing.
“He had a little,” Fu Jing admitted without denial. “A glass of brandy,” he added.
“Brandy?” Zhao Linsheng repeated the word with heavy emphasis, as if unable to believe it.
Meanwhile, the medic performing CPR on Jiang You urgently yet calmly ordered, “Apply defibrillator.”
With that, the medic pulled Jiang You’s shirt up above his chest, while another attached the pads to his body and began administering electric shocks.
Jiang You’s frail body was violently lifted upward before crashing back onto the bed.
As he was hoisted, his abdomen caved inward, ribs protruding starkly beneath the skin until his entire frame resembled a paper-thin silhouette.
Fu Jing stood rigidly nearby, his spine stiff and beaded with cold sweat.
“What happened to Jiang You? Why are you here?” Fu Jing turned to Zhao Linsheng.
“He came out to celebrate your birthday and ended up in this state—and you’re asking me what happened?” Zhao Linsheng discarded all pretense of professional hierarchy, his tone biting as he shot back at Fu Jing.