Chapter 110 Drowning in a Woman's Tenderness

When Zhao Wenchang returned home after dealing with matters at the Ministry of Military Affairs, he found steaming braised fish and braised pig's trotters on the table, their aroma filling the air.

His tall and imposing figure paused at the doorway, looking at Jiang Wanqiu, who was sitting at the table in a daze under the dim light. Her small face, no bigger than a palm, appeared even more fair and beautiful under the light, but there was an unyielding sorrow between her brows.

"Why did you make so much delicious food?" Zhao Wenchang took off his military overcoat, strode over, and spoke in a deep, magnetic voice.

Jiang Wanqiu snapped out of her daze and forced a smile: "I didn't make it, I got it from the cafeteria. I originally intended to deliver it to Cui Hua, but..."

She recounted her experience at the hospital in detail, growing increasingly indignant as she spoke: "That Dr. Lin was completely unreasonable! He even said Cui Hua was mentally ill and wouldn't let me see him!"

Zhao Wenchang picked up his chopsticks and took a piece of fish. After listening, he paused for a moment, a knowing glint in his dark eyes.

"Lin Mengyao?" he asked. "If I remember correctly, she's a surgeon, right? Does Cui Hua have any external injuries that require surgery?"

"No!" Jiang Wanqiu realized as well.

Zhao Wenchang curled his lips into a cold smile, already fully aware of the situation.

Lin Mengyao, relying on her family connections, has always been arrogant and haughty at the hospital. Now that Cui Hua's identity is exposed, why is she so eager to snatch him away? What are her plans? It's obvious.

"I guess they want to use Cui Hua to get in touch with the Cui family in Beijing."

Upon hearing this, Jiang Wanqiu became even more anxious: "How can Cui Hua possibly recover in her hands? She simply doesn't know how to treat him. Cui Hua isn't the kind of mentally ill person she thinks he is. If she really treats him as a mentally ill person, something terrible will definitely happen!"

Upon hearing this, Zhao Wenchang put down his chopsticks and said in a deep voice, "Don't worry, I'll go with you again tomorrow."

After all, before the Cui family elders arrived, Cui Hua's safety was also his responsibility.

Just before going to bed, a rich, milky aroma wafted from the kitchen.

Jiang Wanqiu curiously peeked out and saw Zhao Wenchang holding a can of malted milk powder, scooping several large spoonfuls into an enamel mug.

“You…” Jiang Wanqiu was both amused and exasperated.

Without looking up, Zhao Wenchang poured boiling water over the mixture, stirred it with a spoon, and handed it to her: "Drink this, it's for you."

Surprisingly, this man actually went and bought another can himself. He's incredibly childish in some ways.

However, he was really generous with the ingredients; this cup of malted milk powder was thicker than milk, and the aroma was overwhelmingly sweet.

She held the warm cup, took two careful sips, and frowned as she tasted the strong spiciness.

Zhao Wenchang had just sat down at his desk when he saw that she had stopped drinking, put down her cup, and was about to climb onto the kang (a heated brick bed). He raised an eyebrow and asked, "What's wrong?"

"It's too sweet, you put in too much," Jiang Wanqiu said honestly.

The man's face immediately showed disbelief, clearly very confident in his milk-making skills: "Impossible. I've been making milk for Ping An for so many years, and he's never complained that it's too salty."

Jiang Wanqiu was amused by his self-righteous manner, and her big, watery almond-shaped eyes curved into crescents. She handed the cup forward and said, "If you don't believe me, try it yourself."

Zhao Wenchang's deep gaze fell on her small face, which was flushed pink from the steam, and then slid down to her lips, which were glistening with moisture from the malted milk powder she had just drunk. His eyes suddenly darkened.

"Okay, bring it over." He waved his hand like a big shot.

Jiang Wanqiu, unsuspecting, held the cup and leaned closer.

Just as she reached the man, an iron arm wrapped around her waist. She only had time to let out a short gasp before a tremendous force pulled her into the man's arms, landing her firmly on his strong thighs!

She was completely enveloped in the man's broad, hard chest, their noses almost touching, and she could clearly feel his burning heat and powerful heartbeat.

"What are you doing..." Jiang Wanqiu hadn't finished speaking.

The man lowered his head, his dark eyes, capable of swallowing everything, locked tightly on her lips, and whispered in her ear in a sexy, almost breathy voice:

"Let me try it and see just how salty it is."

The next second, his burning lips covered hers, swallowing all her unspoken gasps.

Mmm, it really is sweet.

Jiang Wanqiu was so dizzy from his kisses that the enamel mug in her hand wobbled, and the warm liquid almost spilled out.

"You...you're being ridiculous!" She finally managed to get a break, panting as she pushed him. Her small face, flushed pink from the heat, and her almond-shaped eyes, full of embarrassment and anger, cried out, "It's almost spilled!"

Looking at her charming and alluring appearance, Zhao Wenchang's Adam's apple bobbed. Instead of letting go, he pulled her closer to his arms.

He stretched out his large hand and directly supported her soft legs. With a little force, he spread her legs apart, changing her position so that she straddled him.

This pose is just too... too intimate!

Jiang Wanqiu gasped in surprise, her body stiffening. She could feel the man's strong, bulging muscles and astonishing heat even through two layers of cotton fabric. Her face instantly turned as red as if it could bleed.

"What are you doing!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with embarrassment.

Zhao Wenchang, however, looked completely at ease, his arm around her waist as steady as a rock: "This way you can sit steadily and won't spill."

After saying that, he took the enamel mug from her hand, tilted his head back and took a big gulp from where she had just drunk.

Indeed, it's a bit too sweet.

His brows furrowed slightly, but only for a moment.

He looked at the woman in his arms, who was so embarrassed she seemed about to disappear into the ground, and chuckled softly, "Can't waste it."

Before he finished speaking, he lowered his head again and passed on a mouthful of sweet malted milk powder.

This time, it's not a half-hearted attempt, but an aggressive conquest.

In the blink of an eye, a cup of thick, concentrated malted milk powder was gone.

Jiang Wanqiu felt weak all over, like a dodder vine soaked by the rain, clinging to him helplessly.

The man, however, was not satisfied. He rolled over and picked her up, placing her on the desk piled high with documents.

With a soft clatter, a pen on the edge of the table rolled to the ground as the two people moved.

...

After an unknown amount of time, when Jiang Wanqiu woke up again, it was still dark outside the window.

The man beside her was no longer on the kang (a heated brick bed).

She rubbed her sleepy eyes and looked in the dim light. She saw that Zhao Wenchang was already dressed and sitting at his desk, frowning as he wrote furiously.

I messed around all night last night, and I still haven't finished the work I had accumulated.

After writing the last character and putting down his pen, Zhao Wenchang realized that his shoulders and neck were sore.

He didn't consider himself the kind of person who would let women interfere with his work, but when he met Jiang Wanqiu, this troublesome little devil, all his self-control had to take a backseat.

No wonder it's said that many tyrannical rulers throughout history died in the arms of their wives and concubines.

That's absolutely right.

The next morning, Zhao Wenchang drove his military jeep, carrying Jiang Wanqiu, straight to the general hospital.

With Battalion Commander Zhao Wenchang around, Lin Mengyao didn't dare to be as arrogant as she was yesterday.

"Battalion Commander Zhao, what brings you here?" She put on a warm smile, but her eyes kept glancing at Jiang Wanqiu behind Zhao Wenchang.

Zhao Wenchang was tall and imposing; his mere presence exuded an invisible aura that made it hard for people to breathe.

He spoke expressionlessly, not bothering with formalities, and stated the purpose of his visit: "How is Cui Hua? I am under orders from my superiors to confirm her safety."

Upon hearing that it was an order from above, Lin Mengyao's heart skipped a beat, but she remained calm on the surface: "Don't worry, Battalion Commander Zhao, after my treatment all night, the patient's condition has basically stabilized and he is almost cured."

"Healed?" Jiang Wanqiu couldn't help but ask.

That's too easy to say.

She stepped forward: "Dr. Lin, now that she's cured, we'd like to go in and see her."

Lin Mengyao was extremely unwilling, but when she met Zhao Wenchang's unfathomable black eyes, she couldn't bring herself to refuse. She could only reluctantly take out a bunch of keys from her pocket: "...Okay, come with me."

Jiang Wanqiu immediately noticed that there was a gleaming iron lock hanging on the door of the ward.

She was somewhat displeased and immediately questioned, "Why did you lock the door?"

Lin Mengyao gave her a "you don't understand" look and explained, "Mental patients are emotionally unstable and aggressive. If they are not locked up, they are likely to hurt themselves and others. This is standard practice."

"I'll say it again, she's not mentally ill!" Jiang Wanqiu's temper flared up again.

Upon hearing this, Lin Mengyao rolled her eyes at Jiang Wanqiu, too lazy to explain to her.

With a click, Lin Mengyao unlocked the door and pushed it open.

In the ward, Cui Hua lay quietly on the bed, her eyes closed, her face as pale as a sheet of paper.

Lin Mengyao crossed her arms and gestured with her chin at Jiang Wanqiu with a sarcastic tone: "Look, isn't this good? Quiet and peaceful, no fuss. Comrade Jiang, I understand your good intentions, but treating patients is our profession. I hope you will not question my professional abilities again in the future."

Jiang Wanqiu ignored the woman and went straight to the bedside, calling softly, "Cui Hua? Cui Hua, wake up, it's me, Jiang Wanqiu."

The girl on the bed trembled her long eyelashes and slowly opened her eyes.

His eyes were empty and numb, devoid of any light, like a stagnant pool, showing no sign of life, and even the initial fear had vanished.

"Cui Hua, how are you feeling?" Jiang Wanqiu asked with concern, reaching out to touch her forehead.

Cui Hua's lips moved, but no sound came out.

Just when Jiang Wanqiu thought she wouldn't react, Cui Hua's hand, which was sticking out of the blanket, suddenly grabbed Jiang Wanqiu's clothes tightly!

The force was astonishing; the knuckles turned white and trembled from the exertion, and Jiang Wanqiu staggered forward as she was pulled.

Immediately afterwards, two lines of clear tears rolled down Cui Hua's empty eyes without warning.

She couldn't make a sound, and her expression didn't even change, but her body trembled slightly, stiff from extreme repression.