Chapter 39: The Second Emergency Rescue
“What’s wrong with you? Why is this happening…?”
Ji Songting’s brow furrowed. He hurriedly grabbed a tissue from the table to wipe the blood from the youth’s shoulder, but it wouldn’t stop. Instead, more blood trickled down his neck.
Because of the spasms in his arm, the blood began to flow backward into the IV line, and the needle was pulled out of place.
He hadn’t even touched Jian An’s wound just now. Why was it bleeding like this? Why was he in so much pain?
Could it be that he had used too much force and hurt him…?
A strange sense of guilt rose in his heart. Ji Songting’s expression darkened. He instinctively reached out to gently press down on the man’s legs, which were thrashing against the bed frame, trying to prevent him from further injury.
“What are you doing?! Don’t touch him!”
The door was suddenly slammed open with a heavy thud. Shen Yunheng’s voice carried a thick, fiery rage.
He strode over and shoved Ji Songting aside. His pupils contracted. He watched the convulsing Jian An on the bed, his hands trembling—wanting to hold him down but not daring to touch him.
“What did you do to him?!”
Shen Yunheng roared. The veins in his arms bulged, but he held back the urge to punch Ji Songting. He tried his best to soothe the youth:
“Xiao An! Hang in there! I’m getting the doctor!”
As soon as he spoke, the attending physician hurried in while putting on his white coat. He immediately administered a sedative to Jian An and stopped the bleeding before performing a full examination.
He put on his stethoscope. Seeing the values on the various monitors dropping rapidly and becoming uncontrollable, his face turned extremely grim. He turned and barked orders to the nurses:
“Inform the surgeons! The patient’s condition has severely deteriorated. Prepare for a second surgery immediately! Move the patient to the emergency room, now!”
Hearing this, Ji Songting froze. His throat felt tight. He wanted to ask about Jian An’s condition, but the words were stuck; he couldn’t speak.
Clearly, when facing many other people and things, he could remain calm and detached. Why was it that every time he saw Jian An, he would lose control—furious, mad, and unhinged?
He had even wanted to kill that man at one point.
But just now, he truly only wanted to provoke Jian An into waking up. He hadn’t wanted to kill him. His extreme paranoia wouldn’t allow him to do that.
But Jian An was truly too fragile…
The word “deteriorated” was like a thunderclap striking Shen Yunheng, slowly tearing his sanity apart.
He felt something explode in his mind. He couldn’t accept this sudden news. His heart contracted sharply, hurting beyond measure.
He had thought that Ji Songting could wake Jian An up, that he could make him better. Why was everything going so wrong? Should he never have put any hope in that bastard?!
Forcing his eyes open to watch Jian An being pushed into the operating room once again, Shen Yunheng’s final shred of reason finally collapsed. His fists were clenched tight, his nails digging into his palms until blood dripped through his fingers. He spoke with lethal intensity:
“If Xiao An doesn’t make it out of that room, there is no longer any need for our families’ business cooperation to continue. I, Shen Yunheng, will not have any dealings with a cold-blooded animal.”
Hearing this, Ji Songting stood frozen in place. In the midst of his paranoid emotions, a sliver of anxiety and worry appeared.
Doesn’t make it out…
He didn’t dare think about that worst-case scenario. His eyes stared blankly at the window of the emergency room. He parted his lips and took a deep breath, then slowly let it out:
“I only agreed to the project with your father for Xiao Yan’s sake. As for you, you have no right to negotiate with me, and you have no right to tell me what to do.”
Even now, while Jian An was inside undergoing a second life-or-death struggle—facing death at any moment—Ji Songting still arrogantly defended his pride.
Shen Yunheng stared at his face with sharp, piercing eyes. He could no longer suppress the fire in his heart. He pointed toward the exit and said:
“Fine, Ji Songting. I should have known. You can only bring him despair and pain. What else can you give him? You don’t need to talk to him anymore, and you don’t need to stand here pretending to wait. Get out and go to the person you’re supposed to be with. Never show your face in front of Xiao An again!”
The other man spared him a sidelong glance, speaking with disdain: “Get this straight: I am his family. I have more right to stand outside this operating room than you do. What right do you have to tell me to get lost?”
“Family? Don’t you think that’s hilarious?”
Shen Yunheng laughed, questioning him: “Do you know how many times you’ve cited your status to me? Husband, legal partner, and now ‘family.’ But which of the responsibilities that come with those titles have you actually fulfilled?!”
“You didn’t even know his stomach was hurting, yet you let him drink alcohol with Shen Chuyan. You knew he loved you, yet you flaunted your affection for someone else right in front of him. How is that any different from killing him? You only bring him endless harm!”
As a man, he understood the other’s thoughts all too well. It was a selfish possessiveness without love. He wanted to conquer and control the man, and he couldn’t stand anyone else being good to Jian An, yet he used his various titles to imprison him.
Such a mindset was terrifying—like a demon’s.
Shen Yunheng’s indignant words were like a needle stabbing into Ji Songting’s heart. It didn’t cause a massive wound, and it didn’t bleed, but it was enough to sting.
After a long silence, his lips parted slightly, but he couldn’t find a single word to argue back. He could only pretend to be expressionless, glancing at the man as a shadow of gloom filled his eyes.
“Jian An killed my mother. Am I supposed to pour my heart out to an enemy? I’ve given him food and a roof over his head in the Ji family—that’s the greatest mercy I could show him!”
Ji Songting began to speak, his eyes cold and dark. He continued: “I have a clear conscience. What more do you want me to do? Wipe the slate of hate clean? Could you do that? I can’t!”
“You keep saying he killed your mother—where’s the evidence? You’ve pinned this baseless crime on his head for over three years based on nothing but your own immature guesses and deductions?”
Shen Yunheng felt the injustice for Jian An. He had always been skeptical of that bizarre event years ago.
He would never believe Jian An killed Lin Qiuwan. He had spent those three years trying to find even a sliver of evidence, but he had still failed to clear the man’s name.
He continued to defend him desperately: “You will never try to understand what kind of person he is. He would never bite the hand that fed him and kill his own professor!”
Unexpectedly, Ji Songting let out a cold snort. His eyes held no warmth, and his tone—though calm—hid a surging storm:
“I only believe what I see with my own eyes. Just like this art competition—Jian An actually dared to plagiarize Xiao Yan’s work in such a major event. He is a hypocritical and shameful person.”
Hearing this, Shen Yunheng was nearly choked with rage. He couldn’t beat the man to death in public, so he could only point a shaking finger at him. After a long while, he said through gritted teeth:
“You honestly believe Xiao An was the one who plagiarized? Since he entered the Ji family, he hasn’t gone anywhere. You even fired him from his only job. Do you really think he could have easily entered the Shen residence to copy Shen Chuyan’s work?”
Thinking carefully, Shen Yunheng was right. For several days before the competition, Jian An had been locked in his room and couldn’t leave. The competition had started the very next day. It would be very difficult to replicate Shen Chuyan’s oil painting in such a short time.
But then Ji Songting thought again—Shen Yunheng’s feelings for Jian An weren’t new. It would have been easy for him to steal the work from the Shen house for Jian An. Perhaps the two had conspired.
Now the man was standing before him trying to “clear” Jian An’s name? Even if he did copy the painting, it was just a poor imitation—a sham.
Ji Songting clearly didn’t believe it. He straightened his tie with a cold expression, his tone growing more irritable: “Did Xiao Yan plagiarize him then? Ridiculous. I know who I should trust.”
Truly, “beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” Shen Chuyan could do no wrong in his blinded eyes. Shen Yunheng was completely speechless. He hated himself for even trying to talk to this heartless scumbag.
Jian An had suffered too much, had been wronged too much. He couldn’t stand it and wanted to explain, but explaining to Ji Songting was useless. Violence would have been more effective than words.
The truth of three years ago, the truth of the paintings—he had to set them aside for now. The only thing that mattered was that Jian An survived this critical period…
The second surgery was difficult. It took even longer than the first. They managed to complete it, but it wasn’t a “success.” The doctors were essentially fighting the King of Hell for a life.
When Jian An was pushed back into the ICU, his skin was so pale it looked inhuman. The oxygen mask on his small face looked jarringly large, as if it might fall off at any moment.
Lying there so still, he didn’t look like a person at all—more like a sheet of white paper that would shatter at a touch.
Ji Songting stood at the door of the ward. His gaze went past everyone to the dying youth. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He wanted to take a step forward, but his feet felt as heavy as if they were made of lead.
He couldn’t help but think of the Jian An who had been free and passionate in the flower fields, and a strange pain gripped him.
What am I thinking…?
He stood there for several minutes before finally walking in, leaning half his shoulder against the door as he listened.
Shen Yunheng looked away, his lips trembling. “Doctor… is he out of danger?”
The attending physician let out a deep sigh and shook his head. “No. We’ve done all we can. If he survives the night, he’ll live. If not… the family should prepare for the funeral.”
Ji Songting, standing behind them, suddenly heard those words. His cold expression instantly froze. He stepped forward and grabbed the doctor’s arm. “He can’t die. You can’t save him here? Then I’ll change hospitals.”
As he spoke, he reached into his pocket to call Yang Rui to contact more high-level surgeons, but he was interrupted by the lead surgeon:
“It’s no use. The surgeons here are top-tier. Even if we had the legendary Hua Tuo himself, we couldn’t bring the dead back to life.”
The doctor then asked: “Does the patient have a history of brain hemorrhages? That old condition has been triggered and complicated by the car accident.”
Translator’s Note:
I don’t know about you, but I really wanted Shen Yunheng to land that punch! Ji Songting is still so stubbornly clinging to his “hate” even while Jian An is on his deathbed. Prepare your tissues~😭💔
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