BL Ch130

5:00 PM.

The city’s central hospital was packed today, with visitors from all directions. The helicopter sent by Yu Jiangyue was the first to bring in his own son, who was the most seriously injured in this operation. The rotors hadn’t even stopped spinning before Yu Duqiu was rushed into the operating room.

The coast guard’s ships rescued all those who fell into the water, and the crew were mostly unharmed. Hong Liangzhang, who had been badly frightened and swallowed a few mouthfuls of water when he jumped into the sea, was mentally drained and sent to a single room to rest. He was also under strict guard as a suspect, accompanied by Zhou Yi.

Hong Yuanhang didn’t get such special treatment. As soon as he landed, he was handcuffed by the police and was probably being interrogated by Xu Sheng at this very moment.

Zhao Feihua arrived at the hospital in a police car with Feng Jinmin, Peng Deyu, and a group of officers. The car sped through the streets, tires nearly leaving the ground, and his heart felt just as weightless. Only when he saw Lou Baoguo, safe and sound on a bench in the hospital corridor, did he finally breathe a sigh of relief. He strode over and gave Lou a hard slap on the chest. “You—”

Instead, he hurt his own hand first. The rare words of concern, “I’m just glad you’re okay,” twisted in his mouth and came out as an angry, “What, are you wearing steel plates? Trying to set me up? You unlucky bastard!”

Having survived the ordeal, Lou Baoguo’s brief moment of sentiment at seeing an old friend was instantly dispelled. He glared back, “You’re the unlucky one! That call you made almost got me exposed!”

“Chairman Yu told me to call!” Zhao Feihua shot back, shutting him up.

But Lou Baoguo didn’t have the energy to argue with this bespectacled guy. His attention was quickly drawn to the others who had rushed over.

Feng Jinmin and Peng Deyu, seeing their subordinates all safe, were also relieved. Feng patted the shoulders of two city bureau detectives. “Good work.”

Peng Deyu, on the other hand, gave Ji Lin a punch to the arm. “Who told you to act on your own?! You almost got yourself killed, you know that?!”

Ji Lin had just finished getting his foot bandaged and hadn’t even had time to rest before he was sprayed with spit. He didn’t dare talk back, just stood there and took the scolding, nodding after each sentence.

Lu Qing, who had come along, tried to mediate. “Chief, Ji just boarded the boat to protect everyone. Don’t be too hard on him.”

The two detectives also couldn’t help but defend him. “Chief Peng, we were lucky to have Captain Ji’s help this time. We thought we had the numbers and weapons to arrest them, but we didn’t expect the other side to get reinforcements in such a desperate way… We nearly made a huge mistake. Luckily, Captain Ji delayed their attack at the critical moment, giving us a chance to turn things around.”

Peng Deyu hadn’t expected Hong Yuanhang to have the guts to smuggle firearms by speedboat. Technically, he had authorized this operation, so he bore some responsibility for the oversight. Now, with no one seriously injured, it was a stroke of luck, and Ji Lin had indeed contributed.

But rules are rules—discipline must be enforced.

“You’re to write a 5,000-word self-criticism and are suspended for a month. Any objections?”

Ji Lin wouldn’t dare object. He straightened up and replied, “No!”

The two leaders wanted to understand the whole process, so they borrowed a small meeting room in the hospital and took the two detectives with them.

Lu Qing stayed behind to keep an eye on things and comforted Ji Lin. “Captain Ji, Chief Peng may sound harsh, but he’s soft inside. When he heard the boat sank, he was so worried his face turned white. Everyone could see he was concerned about you. Suspending you for a month is just to make you rest.”

Ji Lin wasn’t thick-headed; he understood Peng Deyu’s concern and nodded. “Whatever Old Peng does to punish me, I deserve it. But even if I could do it all over again, I’d still go.”

Lou Baoguo, who had walked over, laughed. “Captain Ji’s getting more rebellious—and more interesting. You used to be such a stickler, but now you’re much more human.”

Lu Qing, still feeling bad for her captain, shot back at Lou’s teasing. “Our Captain Ji was always passionate, okay? He just got corrupted by you lot.”

Zhao Feihua chimed in, “Makes sense. Working with this group, you’re lucky not to go crazy. Miss Lu, don’t follow in their footsteps—run while you still can… Ow!”

Lou Baoguo pressed down on his head, grabbed him by the collar like a chick, and started dragging him outside. “You’re talking too much today. Since you’re so chatty, let’s go outside and have a talk, so we don’t disturb everyone.”

“Help—mmph!” Zhao Feihua’s mouth was covered, and he cast desperate glances at Lu Qing, who ignored their squabbling and focused on the victims. “Captain Ji, is Mr. Yu okay?”

Zhao Feihua was dragged outside and tickled by Lou Baoguo until he almost collapsed from laughter.

Ji Lin, hearing the question, turned to look down the corridor—the indicator light outside the operating room glowed red, with no sign of turning green.

“He broke an arm, but it’s not serious. Luckily his ribs weren’t broken, or with all that jumping around, a broken bone could have punctured an organ.”

Lu Qing peeked at Yu Jiangyue and Bai Zhao, who were sitting outside the operating room, and asked curiously, “What are those two talking about? They seem to be getting along, been chatting since we got here.”

“Let them talk,” Ji Lin replied. “You stay here and let me know if anything happens.”

“Huh? Where are you going?”

“Brother Mu must have heard the news. I’m going to tell him everyone’s safe, so he doesn’t worry.”

The crowd in the corridor gradually dispersed, leaving only hushed whispers.

“His grandfather is coming tomorrow, so… when do you plan to tell him the truth?” Yu Jiangyue, finally able to breathe after a day of worry, tucked a stray hair behind her ear and turned her clear gaze to the dirty, smelly future son-in-law beside her. “He might be happy, or he might be angry. You’d better be prepared. Once you tell him the truth… he’ll know you lied about a lot of things before.”

Bai Zhao’s clothes were still damp with seawater, hair plastered to his temples. He clenched his intertwined hands and replied hoarsely, “I know. I’m willing to accept any consequences. I decided this before I left him—excuse me, I’d like to shower first.”

Yu Jiangyue saw his tense face and understood he wasn’t as calm as he sounded. She nodded. “Alright, you’ll catch a cold like this. I’ll have someone bring you clean clothes. Rest after your shower; his surgery will take at least three or four hours. I’ll call you when it’s over…”

But Bai Zhao shook his head. “I’ll come back after I shower. He’ll probably want to see me when he wakes up. I can’t show up all smelly—he’d kick me out.”

Yu Jiangyue laughed. “He wouldn’t treat you like that, would he?”

Bai Zhao sighed helplessly. “You never know. He did last time.”

The red light above the operating room stayed on until late at night before turning green, but the person on the table still didn’t wake up.

Maybe, with the psychological burden lifted, his subconscious told him to sleep a little longer. Yu Duqiu had a long, vivid dream.

Unlike every other dream, this one didn’t start in elementary school or that dark little room. The faint sound of the TV woke him. He opened his eyes to a snow-white ceiling.

Looking down, he saw white sheets, a white blanket, and white pajamas.

Even in the dream, Yu Duqiu’s mind was clear. Such a simple room couldn’t be his home—it must be a hospital.

He’d only been hospitalized a few times in his life. If this wasn’t reality… then it must be that one missing memory in his mind.

He’d seen it before in dreams or when he tried to recall it, but it was always fragmented and bizarre. This time, though, it was calm and stable. He could even see the black cat in a police uniform on the TV and hear its stern lines: “Stop! Or I’ll shoot!”

Yu Duqiu tensed up, wanting to cover his ears—

But someone beat him to it, placing a small hand gently over his ear.

The motion was so natural, as if it had happened many times before.

Yu Duqiu froze, looking up in surprise, but only saw the other’s chin.

The overhead lamp flickered, bringing a familiar sense of dizziness. He blinked, and the figure was gone.

Ah, yes, it was that “ghost friend” he’d imagined as a lonely, frightened child—someone no one in the hospital knew but him.

The ghost vanished, but their conversation still echoed in the empty room—or rather, it was him talking to himself in his mind:

“I’m going to raise two dogs and name them after it, so I’ll be their master! They’ll have to listen to me, and I won’t be afraid anymore. Want one? I’ll give you one.”

“Sure!”

“Will you come tomorrow? I think… it’s my birthday tomorrow, but I can’t remember. My head hurts.”

“Tomorrow… I have to go.” The young voice said softly, “But I’ll bring you a gift, even if I don’t have much to give…”

“Where are you going?”

“To do something I have to do.”

The news that another friend was leaving made him uneasy. He gripped the sheets as if clutching the other’s sleeve. “Can you not go? I don’t want you to leave.”

A pair of warm, small hands reached out from the void, holding him tightly. The voice in his mind was resolute: “I won’t leave. I’ll always watch over you… but I might not show up for a long time. Don’t forget me…”

The voice grew distant, as if fading away while speaking, disappearing from his mind.

The TV flickered, the peaceful illusion crumbling. Like a giant mirror cracking, countless spiderweb-like fissures spread, shattering the hospital scene into fragments. Suddenly, crash! The shards flew straight at his eyes!

Yu Duqiu squeezed his eyes shut, instinctively trying to turn away, but a sharp pain shot through his body. The memory fragments seemed to have embedded themselves in his flesh, becoming a part of him.

He snapped his eyes open, bracing for blood—but all he saw was the same white hospital room, bright daylight, and himself in a hospital gown.

The only difference: he was no longer alone.

A man napping by his bedside, holding his hand, was awakened by the noise, and looked up, meeting his gaze.

The warmth from the dream transferred to his heart. Yu Duqiu breathed a sigh of relief and tried to reach out to pet his loyal “puppy”—only to find his right arm in a cast and unable to move.

Instead, the “puppy” patted his head. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“No.” In fact, it was a rare good dream. Yu Duqiu brushed away the man’s hand with his uninjured left, then paused, sniffing suspiciously. “Did you shower?”

Bai Zhao nodded. “Yeah, I was afraid you’d think I smelled. I also wiped you down.”

He really didn’t smell. The salty sea water and thick blood from before had all been cleaned away. Yu Duqiu now felt fresh, but his expression soured. “I was unconscious and injured, and you had time to shower? I bet you even ate.”

Bai Zhao shook his head. “You slept all day. I haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. After showering, I stayed here with you.”

“That’s all?”

“…What else?”

Yu Duqiu frowned. “At least shed a few tears for me.”

Bai Zhao smiled. “Dr. Sun said your fracture will heal in a few months, and I know you’re not in danger—just exhausted. Of course I was worried, but if I cried over this, how could I be your support?”

“So you’re not even excited I woke up?” Yu Duqiu was dissatisfied with his calmness. “This is the worst injury I’ve ever had.”

Bai Zhao was stunned, then gradually understood. He sat beside him, bent down, and looked at him with a smile. “Are you acting spoiled with me, young master? But… when I came back from the brink of death to your side, you didn’t seem too excited either. Didn’t cry for me, did you?”

Yu Duqiu sneered, which tugged at his bruised waist and made him suck in a breath. “Ungrateful mutt… Already forgotten how indulgent I was that night? And… how do you know I didn’t cry?”

Bai Zhao’s heart ached at his wince. Hearing those words, he softened. “Did you really cry?”

“I said I’d never cry for anyone again in this life.” Yu Duqiu caught the flicker of disappointment in his eyes and added slowly, “So I just used up next life’s quota in advance. I won’t have any tears left next time, which means you can’t make me sad again, understand?”

Bai Zhao’s face visibly brightened. He leaned down until his lips brushed Yu Duqiu’s cheek, like a pilgrim kissing a deity. “Mm, I understand.”

“I don’t think you do.” Yu Duqiu turned his face to him. “I’m this badly hurt, and this is how you comfort me? Am I a three-year-old?”

Bai Zhao looked at him like he was a willful child and laughed quietly, then leaned down again, this time aiming right. “Just a reminder… There’s a camera in the room. The doctors and police are watching—they’re worried about you.”

“No wonder you’re not in bed hugging me. That’s not like you.” Yu Duqiu hooked his neck and pulled him down. “Who cares… I’m kissing my lover… that’s not illegal…”

In the chief surgeon’s office, Sun Xingchun brewed some Longjing tea for his old friend, sat down at his desk, and complained while opening his computer, “That troublesome grandson of yours—how much trouble has he caused me these months? Always sending in injured people, and now he’s here himself. Even his hospital stay has to be special, with cameras and everything. If anyone tries anything on my turf, I’ll be the first to—”

Sun Xingchun’s words stopped abruptly as he stared, wide-eyed, at the live feed on the monitor.

“Sorry for the trouble. These two boys are wild—I can’t control them.” The old friend picked up his teacup, didn’t drink, pulled out an apple from somewhere, and set it on the table, smiling as he watched the two embracing on the screen. “At least they both grew up safe. Give this to Bai Zhao for me—he’ll know what it means. I won’t disturb them.”

“Huh? Aren’t you going to see your grandson?”

“No, don’t want the brat to get nervous, or my little clever one to spot something. After all these years, only one hurdle left… Whether my wild grandson can be tamed is up to him.”