RLTT CH 27

Chapter 27:  999·Emergency Room·BB·Mr. Wei

Yoyo let out a sharp scream and clutched her hand. She lifted her head toward the entrance of the alley and saw Wei Jiaxi standing there, holding a gun aimed straight at her.

He stood alone, his eyes burning with fury. His entire being radiated anger, and the veins on his arm bulged as he gripped the gun with all his strength, as if he were using every ounce of his power to steady it.

Yoyo gasped, genuinely believing for a split second that Wei Jiaxi was going to shoot and kill her.

The three other boys had already vanished the moment the gunshot rang out, leaving only Yun Shaofeng curled up on the ground.

Wei Jiaxi had no time to deal with Yoyo. He quickly ran to Yun Shaofeng’s side and crouched down. Yun Shaofeng’s eyes were shut tight, his brows furrowed, and both hands clutched his lower abdomen, as if he were in unbearable pain.

“Shaofeng, how are you?” Wei Jiaxi reached out to support him, but Yun Shaofeng let out a pained groan, his body curling up even tighter.

Wei Jiaxi’s heart sank. He immediately sensed that something was wrong and hurriedly pulled out his phone to dial 999.

Thirty Minutes Later – Outside the Emergency Room at Prince Hospital

Wei Jiaxi sat alone on the bench, his elbows resting on his knees, head bowed, eyes rimmed red. His mind was still replaying the paramedic’s question from inside the ambulance:

“The current bleeding and symptoms resemble a threatened miscarriage. Is there a possibility the patient is pregnant?”

At that moment, he had been completely speechless. And even now, sitting here, he still had no answer.

He didn’t know. Although after their first time, he had reminded Shaofeng to take his medication, and Shaofeng had agreed, they had also taken precautions in the following encounters. But what if it had happened the first time? What if their luck had been that good? And yet, two or three months had passed, and Shaofeng hadn’t said a word.

Maybe he didn’t want him to worry. Maybe he hadn’t even realized it himself.

But if he really was pregnant, was now the right time to have a child? What should he do? Get married? Ask Shaofeng to move in with him?

But he was still a protected witness. If he was pregnant, would he be able to recover before the trial? Would he be safe?

What on earth… should he do?

“Sir, smoking is not allowed here.”

A janitor approached, reminding him politely.

Only then did Wei Jiaxi realize that, at some point, he had lit a cigarette. It now smoldered between his fingers, releasing an acrid white mist.

Hearing the janitor’s reminder, he didn’t react the way he usually would—quickly apologizing and putting it out. Instead, irritation flared within him, and he had the urge to tell the janitor to leave him alone.

He wasn’t sure if it was because this situation was too overwhelming or because his temperament had worsened since becoming zuoguan.

It was probably the latter.

He let out a self-deprecating laugh.

“Sir? Please put it out,” the janitor reminded him again.

Wei Jiaxi finally snapped out of it, wordlessly extinguishing the cigarette on the ground before flicking the butt toward the janitor’s broom, letting him sweep it away.

He exhaled a long breath and straightened his back, leaning against the bench. Behind him was the emergency room where Yun Shaofeng was being treated.

This scene felt eerily familiar.

Six years ago, it had been the same. Shaofeng inside, himself outside.

A single wall between them. One sitting, one lying down.

Six years, just like that, had passed.

Yang Zhen rushed in, his face full of urgency. The moment he got Wei Jiaxi’s call, he had come immediately.

“What happened? What’s going on?”

Wei Jiaxi slowly stood up, his brows tightly knit. “He’s still in there. The doctor said it looks like a threatened miscarriage…”

“Miscarriage…?” Yang Zhen froze for a moment before lowering his voice. “You two… ended up like this again?”

Wei Jiaxi nodded stiffly, his expression dark with shame. “I told him to take the pills. He said he would… but somehow, it still happened…”

Yang Zhen placed his hands on his hips, thinking for a moment before asking, “What happened today? Why did it come to this? I spoke to WPU just now—they’re giving you some time, but they’ll be coming over soon.”

Wei Jiaxi ran a hand over his forehead and replied in a low voice, “It was some guys who used to follow Wei Jiayi. When I got there, I saw Zhongzai lying on the ground, but I didn’t have time to check on him. I rushed into the alley and found them surrounding Shaofeng. They even tried to shoot him, but I managed to drive them away.”

“Who were they? Do you recognize them?” Yang Zhen’s expression turned serious. “Do you know their names? If not, we can get a sketch done.”

“No.” Wei Jiaxi shook his head. “This can’t be handled by the police. I’ve already sent a big boss into prison—I can’t send my own men in too.”

Yang Zhen frowned at him. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you acting like a zuoguan big shot now? Ignoring the law and following street rules instead?”

“It’s not as simple as you think.” Wei Jiaxi’s tone was frustrated. “And that woman… never mind, I can’t tell you. Right now, I just need you to push for the trial as soon as possible. No more delays.”

“What the hell is going on, Jiaxi? Seeing you like this makes me worry. I don’t want to watch you walk down the wrong path again!”

Just then, the emergency room curtains were pulled open.

Yun Shaofeng lay on a hospital bed, being wheeled out by the medical staff.

Wei Jiaxi hurried to his side, his heart clenched when he saw Shaofeng still unconscious, his face deathly pale.

“We’re taking him to a hospital room now,” the nurse said as they wheeled him toward the elevator.

Wei Jiaxi turned to the emergency doctor. “How is he?”

The doctor removed his gloves. “He’s eleven weeks pregnant. The baby is fine now. The patient suffered some blood loss, multiple soft tissue bruises, and had a wound on his arm that needed two stitches. There may be a mild concussion, but we can’t do an MRI right now. We’ll have to monitor him after he wakes up. Overall, he’s stable. You don’t have to worry.”

With that, the doctor turned and walked away to attend to other patients.

Wei Jiaxi exhaled deeply in relief, then turned to Yang Zhen, about to say something.

But Yang Zhen simply shook his head. “Go see him. I’ll stay here and wait for the WPU team.”

Wei Jiaxi nodded gratefully and followed Shaofeng to his hospital room.

Even in his unconscious state, Yun Shaofeng seemed tormented. His brows remained tightly furrowed, his breathing was rapid, and cold sweat covered his forehead. His sleep was restless.

Wei Jiaxi sat beside him, continuously wiping his sweat, monitoring the IV drip, and holding his hand, occasionally calling his name in a gentle voice.

The WPU team arrived later, asking him a few basic questions before posting guards outside the room. Yang Zhen eventually left—his work was too demanding to stay any longer.

Mo Chao called several times, but Wei Jiaxi had no interest in answering.

Yun Shaofeng drifted in darkness, not fully unconscious but trapped in a dreamlike state, floating weightlessly in a tunnel.

He reached out desperately, his fingertips pressing against an invisible barrier. When he pulled his hands back, he found them covered in something—something shapeless yet undeniably present. Transparent, intangible, yet he could feel it. He held up his hands, realizing that between his fingers, within his palms, and all over his skin—permeating, entangling, clinging—were fragments of memories.

He didn’t know where these memories had been before or why they were appearing now. Maybe it was when his head hit the concrete so hard as he fell—so hard that it shattered the lid of a crushed iron box, spilling everything inside. Maybe it was the lingering scent and sounds surrounding him now—the smell of antiseptics, the overly clean sheets, the squeaking of small wheels rolling on the floor, the beeping of call buttons and alarms. He rarely got sick, yet somehow, he could always remember the feeling of being in a hospital.

Or maybe it was that familiar sensation in his lower abdomen—the feeling of something being torn away. That heartbreaking, sinking pain. The absolute despair of losing something that was once a part of him.

He had felt this pain before. It had hurt so much back then that he had chosen to forget.

And then, suddenly—Yun Shaofeng opened his eyes.

The sky outside had already darkened.

Sitting at his bedside, Wei Jiaxi immediately noticed his awakening and leaned forward in concern. “Shaofeng? How are you feeling?”

Yun Shaofeng first raised a hand and gently touched his lower abdomen. He blinked, then turned his gaze toward Wei Jiaxi, his eyes cold as ice—weak, but piercingly sharp.

“Young Master.” Yun Shaofeng spoke.

Wei Jiaxi’s breath hitched, his eyelashes trembled violently, and his eyes darkened like the sea before a storm—calm on the surface, but holding a turbulent storm beneath.

He knew exactly what that form of address meant.

“Shaofeng…” Wei Jiaxi called softly, biting down hard on his back teeth. He reached out, clasping Yun Shaofeng’s hand, the one resting against his stomach.

Yun Shaofeng didn’t resist. Of course, he wouldn’t.

Because he remembered—everything.

He remembered the first day he met Wei Jiaxi.

That was a long, long time ago.

Yun Shaofeng had been considered an adopted son of Wei Junlin. In their organization, there were always core members—or even just low-ranking enforcers—who would either die in the line of duty or end up in prison. When that happened, the gang took responsibility for their children.

If a child still had one surviving parent, the organization would simply provide financial support. But if they were completely orphaned, the gang would raise them. Yun Shaofeng wasn’t the only child who had been taken in by Hongsheng, but he was the only one who had spent years by Wei Junlin’s side.

The reason was simple—his age was closest to Wei Junlin’s youngest son. The son he had carried in his own belly for ten months but never brought home.

Yun Shaofeng’s parents had died when he was too young to remember, and Wei Junlin had taken him in. Before he even knew how to read, Wei Junlin personally raised him—feeding him, clothing him, keeping him by his side. For two or three years, Yun Shaofeng had even called him “Dad.”

But when it was time for him to start school, he was sent back to live with distant relatives. Of course, Wei Junlin continued to pay for his tuition, books, and living expenses. He even sent gifts during holidays, though he never visited in person.

Later, when Yun Shaofeng reached middle school, he started struggling academically. His grades weren’t terrible, but he wasn’t excelling either—college seemed neither here nor there. His distant relatives wanted him to start working early, but they had no connections to find him a decent job. So, after much deliberation, they turned to Wei Junlin again.

The next time Yun Shaofeng saw him, he still remembered how Wei Junlin had taken care of him as a child.

And two months and ten days after moving into No. 502 on Xiaoyangdao Road—he met Wei Jiaxi for the first time.

To be continued…