“Doctor Zhao, come quick! The patient in bed sixteen is awake, he’s awake!”
Hearing the shout, Doctor Zhao rushed into the ward. After a quick examination, he exclaimed, “Qi Yanjue, you’re really something, covered in injuries like that, and they still didn’t kill you from the pain.”
Qi Yanjue struggled to prop himself up. It wasn’t recklessness, he was in a hurry to confirm something critical.
That woman, who, in her panic while he was gravely injured and on the brink of death, had run headfirst into a wall, he didn’t know whether she was dead or alive.
“Lie still!” Doctor Zhao quickly pressed him back down. “I’m going to wash my hands, and when I come back I’ll go through just how frightening your injuries are. If you want to die, this isn’t the way to go about it.”
With that, he hurried out of the ward.
Qi Yanjue ignored him and stubbornly forced himself upright, disregarding the pain from the thick bandages wrapped all over his body. His sharp gaze shot toward the nurse who was changing his IV drip.
“Where is Song Yueying?”
“Who?” The nurse paused mid-motion as she was hanging the IV bottle.
“An eighteen-year-old woman. She has an injury on her forehead,” Qi Yanjue added, his tone leaving no room for doubt.
The nurse frowned and thought for a long moment. “No. The ER didn’t admit any female patient with a forehead injury today.”
“No?” Qi Yanjue’s heart suddenly sank.
Could it be that his comrades had arrived at the scene and brought him to the hospital, while Song Yueying had been treated as the one who tried to kill him, left at the scene, or even executed on the spot?
“Hey, wait, what are you doing sitting up? Doctor Zhao said your injuries are severe, you need to lie down,” the nurse snapped back to her senses and hurried to stop him.
“Lie down? Like hell I will!” Qi Yanjue had just sat up and was already trying to get out of bed.
When Doctor Zhao returned and saw the scene, he flew into a rage.
Pointing at Qi Yanjue, he scolded, “Did you take my words as a joke? How many stitches do you have all over your body? How many bones are broken? If you keep this up and die, you’ll have only yourself to blame!”
Qi Yanjue didn’t actually feel much pain all over his body; it was just that his throat was so dry it felt uncomfortable. Enduring the discomfort, he asked, “Have you seen Song Yueying?”
Doctor Zhao was so angered by his disregard for his own life that he let out a short laugh. The words at the tip of his tongue took a sharp turn as he replied vaguely, “Who would I have seen? I was called in for an emergency, the only patient was you. If you’re in a hurry, wait until you at least look somewhat human before asking about anything else!”
“Who is Song Yueying?” the nurse asked, her curiosity piqued again.
“Family,” Qi Yanjue blurted out without thinking.
Doctor Zhao shot him a look, his eyes full of astonishment. He had clearly come here to get a divorce, so how had she suddenly become “family”?
“You have family?” The nurse was stunned, her tone carrying undisguised jealousy.
Not wanting to answer the nurse’s rude question, Qi Yanjue looked at Doctor Zhao and asked, “Who brought me to the hospital?”
The nurse rushed to answer, “A woman and a child.”
A woman, a child? Qi Yanjue frowned, where had a woman and a child come from?
At that moment, Song Yueying walked in, carrying a mesh bag of oranges and a few apples. Seeing the doctor and nurse both in the ward, she stopped and stood where she was.
Doctor Zhao and the nurse both turned to look at her.
The nurse recognized her as the one who had brought Qi Yanjue to the hospital, and saw that her forehead was smooth and unblemished, without the slightest sign of injury.
When this woman had been wearing bloodstained clothes, she looked like an ignorant village girl. Now that she had changed into a floral dress, she seemed pretty and refined, like a city woman.
A trace of doubt and faint displeasure flashed through the nurse’s eyes.
She stepped forward, her questioning tone even a bit sharp. “Hey, on your way bringing him here, did you see a woman around eighteen with a huge gash on her forehead?”
“If you saw her, speak up, don’t delay this comrade from finding his family.”
A woman with a huge gash on her forehead, was that referring to her? Song Yueying frowned. Just as she was about to snap back, she heard Qi Yanjue say, “She’s the one I’m looking for.”
Hearing that, Song Yueying’s eyes widened, panic surging in her heart. He… what did he want with her? Don’t tell her he was going to make her pay the medical bills?
“What? Her?!” The nurse reacted as if her tail had been stepped on, spinning around and pointing at Song Yueying. “You’re his family? Didn’t you say you had nothing to do with him?!”
She glared at Song Yueying as if fire might shoot from her eyes, as though she had been emotionally deceived.
Doctor Zhao looked at Song Yueying’s face, his brows knitting tighter and tighter. This Song Yueying’s appearance… was completely different from what he had imagined.
It wasn’t that she wasn’t pretty, she was too pretty, strikingly so.
Her features were bright and exquisite, with no trace of gentle softness. Yet her eyes were like naturally polished gemstones, gleaming brilliantly and captivating at a glance.
Qi Yanjue, upright and aloof like a lofty flower on a high peak, ought to be paired with a gentle and compliant woman. Yet by a twist of fate, he had saved Song Yueying and been clung to by her; for the sake of her reputation, he had no choice but to marry her.
But Song Yueying was an unsophisticated village girl who, by herself, had stirred the entire residential compound into chaos.
What’s more, after Qi Yanjue went on a special mission and news of his death was sent back, she had wasted no time taking the compensation money and returning to the countryside to remarry.
Seeing that Song Yueying was completely unharmed, Qi Yanjue froze for a moment. Then his gaze fixed straight on her smooth forehead, where was the wound? What happened to the injury she got from crashing into the wall?
How many days had he been unconscious this time? Had the wound on her forehead already healed?
Ignoring the nurse’s face twisted with anger, Song Yueying walked straight to the bedside.
She placed the fruit on the nightstand and, in a tone as calm as if discussing the weather, asked Doctor Zhao about his condition: “Doctor, how are his injuries?”
Sigh, she really had bad luck. A person from decades in the future, inexplicably transmigrated to the 1970s, and even got caught up in an ambush.
She wasn’t going to get extorted for medical fees now, was she…
Facing the possibility of being shaken down for expenses, Song Yueying regretted giving him those hemostatic and painkilling pills.
Doctor Zhao put on a reassuring smile and said gently, “His injuries are severe. He must be hospitalized for treatment. Unless absolutely necessary, it’s best for him to lie still and recuperate.”
“If he can avoid moving, then he should avoid moving as much as possible.”
“Of course.” Song Yueying nodded. On the way to the hospital, she had already had Yueyue scan his entire body.
There were knife wounds on his back, arms, and legs, and signs of broken ribs. The most serious was the gunshot wound in his chest, if it had been even slightly off, he wouldn’t have survived.
He really was badly injured; lying still was the best course of treatment for now.
Seeing the man’s arm wrapped in bandages, Song Yueying said irritably, “You heard the doctor, why are you still sitting there trying to act tough? Lie down.”
His deep, shadowed eyes fixed on her forehead as Qi Yanjue asked, “The injury on your forehead…”
“What injury on my forehead? You’re seeing things,” Song Yueying cut him off, her expression unchanged, her heartbeat steady.
When he didn’t react, she unceremoniously reached out and pushed him.
Qi Yanjue only felt a subtle force, and in a moment of dizziness, he was already laid flat back down.