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But the next moment, her hand was grabbed, and the kettle was in the other person's hands!
She then realized, in a daze, that the person standing in front of her was not a bandit, but a middle-aged doctor in a white coat who was terrified.
The middle-aged doctor nearly got his head smashed by the awakened patient and was trembling with fear.
"Well, she's fine now that she's awake. She has some superficial injuries, and she's just exhausted and very frightened!"
That's terrifying! He was just going to his home for a follow-up appointment when he was almost killed by a patient. This girl is too ruthless!
"Her throat..." a cold voice asked from the side.
"I got pinched and need to rest. My throat was almost crushed. I had an IV drip for three days, and today was the last day. I just finished the drip."
"All that's left is to take the medicine. Remember to talk as little as possible for a week," the middle-aged doctor carefully instructed.
Ning Yuan looked toward the tall figure standing to the side, following the sound. It was the one who had grabbed her hand that had been used to hit someone with the kettle.
He was wearing a desert camouflage outfit that shouldn't have appeared in mainland China in the 1980s, making him look tall and aloof.
Ning Yuan was somewhat dazed, and managed to utter with difficulty, "Rong...Zhao...Nan?"
Her throat felt like it had been sawed open; every word she spoke was extremely painful, and her voice was terribly hoarse.
“It’s me.” Rong Zhaonan released his grip on her wrist.
He saw the doctor off, then returned to her side and poured her a glass of warm water: "Drink some water, I put some throat lozenges in it."
Ning Yuan drank some water, and her burning throat felt a little better.
She looked around, wanting to say, "This..."
“This isn’t a hospital. You’ve been exhausted and stressed for two days. This is the military guesthouse I’m staying at.” He sat down next to her and touched her forehead to check her temperature.
Ning Yuan couldn't help but want to ask something again, but a sharp pain, like sandpaper rubbing against her throat, came from behind her: "..."
Rong Zhaonan said, "Ou Minglang, Manhua, and Huazi are all hospitalized like you, and they are all staying here now."
It seemed that he could tell what she wanted to ask just by the slightest movement of her eyes.
Ning Yuan breathed a sigh of relief; it was good that they were alright.
She looked down at her hands, her palms wrapped in gauze, and she had changed into clean, brand-new pajamas.
Rong Zhaonan's voice was calm and matter-of-fact: "I helped you wash and change your clothes, and also helped you with your personal hygiene and toileting. You are very clean."
Ning Yuan's face flushed instantly. No wonder she felt refreshed all over, and even had a cool, minty scent in her mouth.
That was his favorite mint flavor; he had a habit of putting a pinch of mint leaves in his mouth, whether it was toothpaste or just everyday food.
She had tasted it; his mouth always tasted that refreshing and crisp flavor.
Rong Zhaonan watched as the fierce curly-haired rabbit in the fire transformed into a shy, droopy-eared rabbit in front of him, and felt a tickle in his heart.
Ning Yuan suddenly raised her flushed face and looked out the window. It got dark early in winter, and the clock on the window pointed to 6:30.
For a moment, her eyes glazed over, as if she had returned to that night of raging flames and the sounds of fighting.
She suddenly shuddered.
Rong Zhaonan frowned, not missing the change in her expression, and checked her forehead temperature again: "What's wrong?"
Ning Yuan seemed startled by his voice, turned her head and stared intently at his handsome, aloof face, then reached out her hand to him: "You..."
Her voice was too hoarse to make a sound, and she had gauze on her hands and forehead, looking miserable and pitiful.
This time, he couldn't guess what she wanted to do, and tentatively bent down and reached out to pick her up: "Do you need to use the restroom?"
But the next moment, the "miserable and pitiful" girl grabbed the collar of his camouflage uniform with her left hand, tilted her head back, and bit his thin lips: "I want to eat..."
Rong Zhaonan paused for a moment, her fingers tugging at his collar, half-kissing and half-biting him like a cub.
He was momentarily stunned, and almost instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist to return the kiss.
In the end, I managed to hold back.
The man gently stroked her back, like soothing a child, his voice muffled by her touch—
"Are you hungry? Don't worry, I'll get you some food in a bit. Your throat hurts, so you should eat some light porridge."
He was not usually a talkative person, but at this moment he spoke softly and gently, letting her kiss his thin lips haphazardly and recklessly.
Ke Ningyuan didn't let go, but she loosened her grip, raised her large eyes, and stared intently at him: "You... take a shower..."
She could smell the clean, fresh scent of soap on him.
Rong Zhaonan didn't know why she asked him this question, and nodded: "I sweated from fiddling with the equipment this afternoon, so I took a shower before coming here."
She looked at his rugged desert camouflage and pointed outside: "More..."
"Yes, we'll be testing and comparing other equipment at 8:30. This camouflage is a new desert uniform from Country E, and it comes with matching equipment," Rong Zhaonan said in a low voice.
It's extremely difficult for them to get their hands on these foreign gadgets these days. If they want to know the gap between themselves and the world, they must hurry up and record their experience with the equipment.
Ning Yuan seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and said with effort, "...an hour and a half."
Rong Zhaonan thought she meant she had an hour and a half to eat with, so he nodded and said, "Yes, I have an hour and a half to eat with you."
But Ning Yuan didn't loosen her grip on his collar with her left hand; instead, she used her right hand, which was wrapped in gauze, to reach down and touch the belt around his waist.
His British-made desert camouflage uniform, with its gray, white, and dark yellow hues, provided excellent camouflage. His collar was buttoned up tightly, concealing his Adam's apple.
The cool-toned camouflage uniform evokes images of steel, blood, and the smoke of battle under the scorching desert sun.
His thick woven military belt, with English letters printed on the brass buckle, was rugged and cold, yet it cinched his waist tightly.
He exuded a captivating, ascetic aura, and his aloof, handsome, and sharp face was now looking at her with tenderness.
Like a sharp blade sheathed, it makes you want to draw it out!
“…Eat…you.” She managed to utter a few words.
Rong Zhaonan paused, looking at the girl kneeling on the bed and nestled in his arms.
That's when I realized that the light in her eyes wasn't quite right.
It was somewhat like the night I fought the bandits; the light was so bright it exuded a fierce aura.
Rong Zhaonan frowned and pressed down on her unruly hand: "You're still injured. I'm not that much of a beast."
Ning Yuan's eyes shone brightly, like the flames of that night: "The injury... is on my neck, on my hand... it doesn't affect... my sleep."
Undeterred, she continued to unbuckle his belt, silently conveying her desire in a whispered voice.
A dark current flashed in Rong Zhaonan's eyes. Curly Rabbit was really not normal; it was probably suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.
His brow furrowed even more, but he dared not pull too hard on her injured right hand, and could only whisper hoarsely, "Ning Yuan... um!"
Ning Yuan's intact left hand suddenly reached into his camouflage uniform and pressed against his warm chest.
Rong Zhaonan froze abruptly, his words of protest turning into a muffled groan, and he leaned towards her.
Her head and neck were wrapped in gauze, and when she smiled, her large, bright black eyes curved into crescents, making her look as innocent as a teenage girl.
"Is your knife... sharp?"
A fierce glint flashed in Rong Zhaonan's eyes, but he quickly suppressed it back into his cool and dark gaze.
His usually cold voice softened as he gently patted her tailbone: "Stop it, let go, you're sick."
Ning Yuan leaned close to his sensitive ear and whispered a question in his ear, both intimate and mature, while laughing silently—
"Captain Rong, you've been reading the textbooks for so long, and you still can't get it in bed?"
He was a meticulous person, but he used his meticulousness to deal with enemies, and was never a truly polite and refined person.
Beneath Tai Sui's indifferent and handsome face lies a wild beast, a sword tempered and stained with blood.
Rong Zhaonan paused, looked down at her, and slowly smiled: "You'll regret this."
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