"Maintain order at the scene. No one is allowed to enter. Wait for the police to arrive." Fang Nan led his men in, giving clear and organized instructions.
"Doctor, don't let him die." Song Hengjue wrapped his long arm around Yang Qingheng's legs and gently pulled her into his arms. He strode out and kicked Li Sen, who was lying on the ground like a dead dog.
Dr. Xu: ...Then you should give him a way out.
"I'm really fine, there's no need for such a big fuss." The two had just entered the house when a group of doctors swarmed in, ready to greet them. Yang Qingheng was so embarrassed that she couldn't help but turn her face away and shrink into Song Hengjue's neck.
"You're too nervous, your senses aren't accurate." Song Hengjue let her stay in his arms, even bouncing her a little closer, and raised his chin to signal the doctor to come closer for the examination.
She reached out and took the damp cloth from the aunt and carefully wiped the bloodstains between her fingers. Her shoes were nowhere to be found.
Feeling the damp touch on the back of her foot, Yang Qingheng's back stiffened, and she awkwardly shrank back: "Dirty, I'll do it myself."
It's kind of embarrassing with so many people watching.
Her delicate toes shyly tucked up, white with a hint of pink, like a few neat little pearls.
"Don't move, it won't be dirty anymore once it's wiped clean." Song Hengjue ignored her, pinching her ankle to stop her from moving, pressing the handkerchief into the gap, not letting a single speck of dust escape.
Feeling that it was about time, Yang Qingheng was about to put on her shoes when she looked down and saw his burning gaze fixed on her toes, his well-defined fingers pinching her slender white ankle, and the bluish-purple veins on the back of his hand slightly bulging.
Her ears burned, and she slapped him on the head.
In broad daylight, have you no shame?
Song Hengjue realized something was wrong, coughed lightly, and stood up.
The doctors, completely oblivious to the ambiguous atmosphere, carefully examined Yang Qingheng.
"There's nothing wrong, he's just been frightened. I'll prescribe some calming medicine for him to take for a few days," the leader said to Song Hengjue.
Before Song Hengjue could even breathe a sigh of relief, the doctor who was still examining him frowned and said, "Wait a minute."
"What happened?" Everyone present held their breath.
"My heartbeat is sometimes fast and sometimes normal. Is it an arrhythmia?" He looked up in confusion.
The leading doctor, looking at his newly accepted apprentice, nearly choked on his own breath. He kicked him in the backside: "Idiot, get up now! You're a disgrace!"
Yang Qingheng's toes trembled, and she glared fiercely at the culprit.
Song Hengjue's ears burned, and he turned his face away to look at the scenery outside the window and the equipment on the table, but he just wouldn't look at her.
Yang Qingheng secretly rolled her eyes and nodded politely to the doctors: "I'm sorry to have troubled you all to make this trip. I've missed lunch time, so please eat your meal before you go back."
Before they could refuse, he turned to the aunt and said, "Auntie, thank you for your hard work."
"Yes! Yes! I'll be right there." The aunt responded repeatedly, turned around and ran into the kitchen.
Pregnancy already makes one more vulnerable, and the shock made her eyelids droop as soon as she relaxed. Yang Qingheng raised her arm and wrapped it around Song Hengjue's neck: "Carry me upstairs."
Without saying a word, Song Hengjue embraced her. When they arrived in the room, just as he was about to say something, he found that the woman had already closed her eyes.
He subconsciously slowed his breathing, carefully tucked her in, and looking at Yang Qingheng's gentle sleeping face, his panicked heart finally felt real. He buried his face in her palm, greedily inhaling a breath, as if to comfort himself.
He almost lost her again, but thankfully, she was alright.
Yang Qingheng slept particularly soundly this time. When she opened her eyes, it was already dark around her. The only light was the dim yellow night light next to her. What intruded into her brain more than reason was the dampness in her palms and the suppressed breathing.
Her fingers trembled from the burn, her heart melted, and she cupped his face in her hands to wipe away his tears. Song Hengjue was backlit, and she had to lean close to see the redness in his eyes: "Why are you crying? Who bullied you?"
Song Hengjue was caught off guard by her waking up at that moment and was too embarrassed to look her in the eye.
"What's wrong? Are you hiding things from me now?" Yang Qingheng pinched his cold earlobe, pretending to be angry.
Song Hengjue indeed became nervous: "No, I...I just..."
"What is it?" Yang Qingheng leaned closer, her breath almost mingling with his.
“I didn’t protect you or the baby, and you got hurt,” Song Hengjue hugged her waist, their bodies pressed tightly together, his frantic heartbeat pounding against Yang Qingheng’s chest. “Let’s not separate anymore, okay, Qingheng? Let’s never be apart again. Even if you don’t like me, even if you fall in love with someone else, you’re not allowed to leave me.”
Song Hengjue always knew that he was not a healthy person; he was like a symbiotic organism attached to Yang Qingheng. However, he did not know that Yang Qingheng was already terminally ill to the point of being pathological.
He was like a rat in the gutter, coveting everything she had.
He couldn't let her know that she hated mice the most; she would definitely chase him away.
"What do you mean you like someone else? We're getting married next month, why are you still thinking so much? Don't you trust me?" Yang Qingheng frowned, not understanding why he always felt insecure, even though she had already done so much.
Song Hengjue repeatedly told himself that it didn't matter; he was just a gigolo, and she wouldn't bring him home. As long as he pretended not to know, it wouldn't affect their marriage at all.
How can a person live so long without making mistakes?
Besides, she's such a good person, it's not her fault that someone covets her.
But all his persuasion crumbled the moment he heard Yang Qingheng's deception. He forcefully covered her mouth: "Don't say it. I don't want to know. I don't mind. I've said it before, I don't mind."
Yang Qingheng knew he was imagining some non-existent rival again. She laughed in exasperation, forcefully turning his face towards her, not allowing him to avoid her eyes, almost as if declaring: "Song Hengjue, I'll say it again, I only like you, only you, no one else, so please don't think about other things that don't exist, okay? You're not allowed to hide anything from me what you saw."
Misunderstandings can become sharp blades that pierce both sides; even if they only stab him, she will still feel the same way.
She hates misunderstandings.
Really? How could what he saw with his own eyes be fake? He had verified it, but he didn't get the answer he wanted.
Song Hengjue smiled wryly, but looking into Yang Qingheng's sincere and pure eyes, his emotions still overcame his reason.
He believed it, even if it was just a lie made up for him.
"I saw you hug Zhong Yan and kiss his neck." A sour feeling churned in my stomach, gushing out.
Yang Qingheng seemed to have heard something absurd, pointing to herself: "Me? With Zhong Yan?"
"So you went to the hospital with me a few days ago?" Looking at Song Hengjue's aggrieved downturned lips, she pinched her aching brow and thought it was absurd. "I just caught some bugs for him, how did it become such a ridiculous thing in your eyes? How many times have I misunderstood you, why don't you ever learn!"
Every time I let my imagination run wild and then accuse her of it, she feels very wronged.
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