Chapter 135 Lifelong Treatment

He stared into Yu Ling's completely blank, distracted eyes, and spoke each word with unquestionable dominance and a hint of... strange sweetness?

"…get! a! life! cure!"

"Lifelong... treatment?" Yu Ling repeated in a dreamlike voice, her brain completely shutting down. The registration form in her hand felt as heavy as a red-hot iron.

Before my eyes was the colorful disco of "Clocking the President's Wife," beside my ears was the ghostly diagnosis of "Rich Wife PTSD," and at the tip of my nose was the strong smell of blood mixed with disinfectant...

This world is crazy!

Or she's crazy!

Or... Zhao Chen really should be put in a mental hospital! Take her with him!

The huge chaos and the feeling of powerlessness of being forced into a corner made her eyes go black, her body swayed, and she almost fell down.

"Lingling!" Zhao Chen accurately captured her momentary weakness and trance! The left hand that had been stuffing the registration form instantly switched from "professional doctor" to "domineering husband"! With an unyielding force, it naturally and quickly wrapped around Yu Ling's waist!

His movements were lightning fast, yet with a certain deliberate, false tenderness, like hugging a fragile antique. His tall body leaned forward slightly, half encircling her limp body in his arms, supporting it with his still intact left chest.

The strong smell of blood, disinfectant, and Zhao Chen's cool, fir-like air, combined with his now scorching heat, instantly enveloped Yu Ling like a dumpling. It was a sharp, familiar scent, aggressive, yet also subtly soothing.

"Look..." Zhao Chen's hoarse voice rolled past her ears, carrying a burning breath and a perfect "weakness". "...You're sick... You can't even stand... And you're still stubborn?"

He tightened his arms around her, rubbed his chin against her head, and coaxed her in the same tone as if she were a three-year-old:

"...Be good...go back to bed...lie down..."

“…The medicine…will be here…soon…”

Yu Ling was trapped in his arms, her body stiff as a board. Her nose was filled with his complex scent, and her ears were filled with his hoarse, painful, and stubborn voice. The stack of registration forms, heavy enough to kill someone, still prickled her palm, reminding her of the absurd drama that had just occurred.

Go back to bed? Lie down? Take medicine?

Is she really... terminally ill?

Just when she was shocked and at a loss——

"Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong!"

Her cell phone on the ground, like a ghost demanding death, started to buzz with notifications again!

The screen was instantly flooded with financial news, one after another, like a waterfall! Each one was accompanied by a blood-red exclamation point! Each headline was more terrifying than the last!

"Xinghui Technology (SH) hit the daily limit within ten minutes of opening! The stock price hits a record high!"

"Wang Chongshan's job-hopping effect explodes! Xinghui receives a mysterious 10 billion yuan investment!"

"Big-cap investors are scrambling to grab Starlight's outstanding shares! The battle for controlling stake has begun!"

"A major shakeup in Starlight's shareholder structure! A mysterious new top shareholder has surfaced?!"

Yu Ling's eyes were subconsciously drawn to the headline that dominated the screen. Xinghui...limit up? Billions in investment? A mysterious major shareholder?

A flood of information hit her chaotic mind like a tsunami! As the chairman of Xinghui, this was a gold mine! But it all happened too strangely, too quickly, too... full of "Jianbing Man"-style magic!

Just when her eyes focused and she wanted to see a piece of breaking news clearly!

Zhao Chen's arm around her waist suddenly tightened! With unquestionable dominance and a hint of panic! He suddenly lowered his head, his hot, bloody lips almost brushing her earlobe, and his hoarse command pounded into her eardrum:

"Close your eyes!"

“Less…numbers game!”

“…It’s such a hassle!”

"Close your eyes" again! "Don't look" again!

Yu Ling was so shocked by his sudden attack that her whole body froze! Before she could come to her senses——

“Buzz buzz buzz—!”

The encrypted cell phone that Zhao Chen stuffed into the pocket of his hospital gown vibrated wildly as if in response!

Zhao Chen's brows knitted together, his arm around Yu Ling motionless. With his uninjured left hand, he awkwardly pulled out his phone. The screen unlocked, and Lin Feng's encrypted message flashed across it.

His eyes, cold as ice, darted across the screen. When he saw a certain message, his face, strained with the pain of blood loss, cracked for the first time into an indescribable expression… something like a toothache?

The information is very short:

"Boss, a temporary shareholder group has been created. Group name: 'Jianbing Man Support Club' (Old Wang is obsessed with this name). Old Wang asks: Would you like to order a pancake pattern or a Shiba Inu apron? Online crematorium!"

Zhao Chen: “…”

The corners of his mouth twitched imperceptibly. The look behind his gold-rimmed glasses was as complex as a palette of colors, a mixture of murderous intent (toward Lin Feng and Mr. Wang), helplessness, and a hint of... the absurdity of being overwhelmed by this utterly ridiculous reality.

He quickly glanced at Yu Ling, who was still confused in his arms and obviously hadn't seen the message.

Then, with a sluggish expression, he used his bloody fingers to viciously poke at the encrypted phone screen, replying with such force that it could have pierced through the tempered glass:

"…apron."

"…with a Shiba Inu."

"…hide."

After sending it, he seemed to have used up the last bit of blue bar, and as if he was in a hurry to destroy the evidence, he turned the phone screen over in seconds and stuffed it back into his bloody trouser pocket.

He lowered his head again and looked at Yu Ling in his arms, who had a confused look in her eyes and was obviously disoriented by the information bombardment.

The hand that was still tightly gripping the handle of her suitcase and dripping with blood tightened slightly, as if it was his last piece of driftwood.

His face was pale, but the look behind his gold-rimmed glasses was unusually "gentle" and "determined," with a tragic and heroic spirit of "being terminally ill but still willing to heal the world." He spoke to Ling, and to himself, in the most empty yet irrefutable tone:

"Lingling..."

"…obedient…"

“…Time to…take some drugs…”