The heavy ceramic lamp base slammed down on the back of Huang Weiguo's head with tremendous force!
"Thump!" A muffled sound, like rotten wood being struck by a heavy hammer.
Huang Weiguo's body stiffened abruptly, his struggle with the window latch frozen in place.
His cloudy eyes rolled upwards in disbelief, and he made two unintelligible gasps in his throat. He fell forward like a chopped-down log.
He fell heavily onto the cold cement floor with a "thud," kicking up a small cloud of dust. Blood quickly seeped from the wound on the back of his head, staining the ground red.
Mingzhao remained in the position of smashing down, his hands gripping the blood-stained lamp base tightly, his chest heaving violently like a broken bellows.
The wound on her forehead, inflicted by the gun butt, was still bleeding profusely; warm liquid slid down her cheeks and dripped onto her tattered clothes. A wave of immense weakness and dizziness washed over her; her vision blurred, and a sharp ringing filled her ears.
The door was violently slammed open by a tremendous force!
Howard was the first to rush in. The muzzle of his gun quickly swept across the room, immediately locking onto Huang Weiguo lying on the ground. After confirming that he was incapacitated, his gaze immediately and urgently turned to Ming Zhao in the center of the room.
What he saw was this scene:
The frail girl leaned against the heavy solid wood table leg, her body covered in blood, her face as pale as a sheet of paper, her lips devoid of color, and trembling slightly.
Her hands were still gripping the blood-stained ceramic lamp base tightly, her knuckles white from the excessive force. Her once dazzling eyes now seemed somewhat unfocused, staring blankly at the crowd that had burst in, filled with weariness, confusion, and a trace of... a lingering, cold resolve.
"Mingzhao!" Howard's heart felt as if it were being gripped tightly by an invisible hand!
He rushed forward, completely ignoring Huang Weiguo on the ground, and carefully squatted down to check her injuries. "How are you? Are you alright? Hang in there!"
Just as his hand was about to touch her, Mingzhao's body suddenly flinched, and her hand gripping the lamp base instinctively lifted, assuming a slight defensive posture. A fleeting hint of predator-like wariness flashed in her unfocused eyes.
Howard froze. He looked at her body covered in wounds, the lingering fear in her eyes, her instinctive resistance... An indescribable anger and pity burned fiercely in his chest.
He slowly withdrew his hand, his voice extremely low, carrying a reassuring tone that he himself was unaware of: "Don't be afraid, it's me, my name is Howard. You're the one who put the blueprints in my pocket that day. You've already taken down the bad guy, it's alright now, you're safe."
At this moment, Captain Hawkeye, who is also Jiang Feng of the National Security Action Team, and others rushed in.
Two team members quickly stepped forward to check on Huang Weiguo's condition, confirming that he had only been knocked unconscious and was still breathing. They immediately stopped the bleeding and tied him up.
Jiang Feng's sharp gaze swept over the chaotic scene—the unconscious spy, the torn bedsheets, the cash scattered on the ground, the smashed wooden crate, and the girl who was clutching the "murder weapon" tightly, covered in blood, with empty eyes.
His gaze was incredibly complex. He was shocked by the girl's counterattack in such a desperate situation, but even more so, he felt a sense of solemnity and regret.
"Seal off the scene immediately! Search thoroughly! Take Li Hongmei and this person away!" Jiang Feng ordered in a deep voice, his gaze finally landing on Ming Zhao with scrutiny. "She's seriously injured, send her to the military hospital first! Arrange for someone to guard her!"
"Yes!" the team member responded.
Howard watched as the Guoan players stepped forward, trying to help Mingzhao up.
Mingzhao seemed to have exhausted his last bit of strength, and the lamp base fell to the ground with a "clatter" and shattered.
She let her teammates help her up, her body limp like a lump of mud, her eyelids drooping heavily. Before she completely succumbed to darkness, she seemed to use all her strength to utter a broken syllable, extremely weak and indistinct, like a sigh in the wind, indistinguishable to anyone.
...
When Mingzhao woke up again, the unique, cold and clean smell of disinfectant lingered around her nose.
Her vision blurred for a few seconds before gradually clearing. A white ceiling, white walls, and a slightly rough white sheet beneath her. She lay on a narrow hospital bed. Clean gauze was wrapped around her wrists, and her forehead was also bandaged, throbbing slightly.
Her body was still weak, but the burning hunger in her stomach was replaced by a warm, full comfort—it seemed as if someone had given her an IV drip.
She rolled her eyes, taking in her surroundings. It was a small, single-occupancy hospital room with iron bars on the windows. The door was tightly shut, and there seemed to be a shadowy figure moving outside. She tried to move her fingers, confirming that she had regained control of her body, but she was still weak.
She remembered everything before she lost consciousness. Huang Weiguo was knocked down, and that guy who seemed to be called Howard rushed in... and then, she was brought here.
Is this... a hospital? Or... another form of prison?
The door was gently pushed open.
The person who walked in wasn't Howard, nor was it anyone from the National Security Bureau; it was a female doctor wearing a white coat.
She looked to be around twenty-five years old, with delicate and gentle features, and her eyes held the calmness unique to doctors and a subtle concern.
"You're awake?" Gong Zhu's voice was very soft, as if afraid of disturbing her. She walked to the bedside, skillfully checked Ming Zhao's IV line, and then gently lifted her bandaged wrist to examine it. "How are you feeling? Are you still dizzy? Does your stomach still hurt?"
Mingzhao looked at her, his lips moved, but his throat was so dry that he couldn't make a sound.
She wanted to say "water" or "I'm fine," but her vocal cords seemed to be rusted shut, producing only a faint breathy sound. The long-term silence and abuse, coupled with the enormous shock of transmigrating and extreme physical weakness, had left her with almost complete loss of language ability.
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