Ji Wei saw Mo Qian hang up the phone and then stand there, unmoving, his hand gripping the phone tightly as if unwilling to let go.
She sensed that sothing bad must have happened, so she walked over and asked softly, "Was it Mr. Ye who called? Have they escaped danger?"
"Mm." Mo Qian only responded with a single, faint word.
Ji Wei suddenly didn’t know how to continue the conversation.
This detached version of Mo Qian made her feel at a loss.
After a mont, she mustered the courage to reach out, wanting to embrace him, but the man extended his hand and pushed her away.
Ji Wei stared at her hand hanging awkwardly in mid-air, lost for a mont, then turned her head to see Mo Qian indifferently walking toward the bathroom.
"Mo Qian..." she called out, her voice hoarse and strained.
"It’s late. Wash up and get so sleep." After saying that, Mo Qian shut the bathroom door behind him.
Ji Wei stood there in a daze, her nose starting to sting as a wave of discomfort washed over her.
...
The roads were mostly empty, with streetlights stretching the shadows of three figures long across the pavent.
Under the night sky, Zii supported Ye Cheng as they slowly walked ahead, followed closely by A Cheng.
The other subordinates had stayed behind in the alley to cover their retreat.
Just as their car had driven out a short distance, they were intercepted by Miyata Ichiro, who had rushed to the scene. Miyata’s n were relentless in their pursuit—multiple vehicles surrounded them, blocking their path. To break through, Zii made the snap decision to ram the blockade!
The car’s front was mangled from the collision, and Zii struggled to help Ye Cheng escape from the vehicle, with A Cheng following behind, gun in hand, providing cover.
Bullets rained down above them in rapid succession, igniting another fierce gunfight. Only with great difficulty did the three manage to flee under the cover provided, eventually reaching a remote, desolate road.
Zii took one look at Ye Cheng’s increasingly pale face and began anxiously scanning their surroundings. At this rate, things wouldn’t hold—they needed to find a place to remove the bullet from Ye Cheng imdiately.
Suddenly, Zii spotted a clinic sign on the roadside ahead. Her expression lit up with relief.
At the clinic’s entrance, deep into the night, ca the sound of urgent, rapid knocking.
The elderly doctor who had already retired for the evening asked a question in Japanese as he donned his outer garnt and rose to open the door.
The mont he poked his head out, a black handgun was shoved against his temple without warning.
The doctor trembled all over in fear, stamring sothing in Japanese.
Zii couldn’t understand, so she gestured for A Cheng to communicate with the doctor.
The two exchanged a few words, with the elderly doctor looking visibly conflicted. Yet, terrified by Zii’s gun, he reluctantly allowed them inside the clinic.
"The doctor says the clinic’s equipnt is too rudintary, and attempting to remove the bullet recklessly carries a high risk. He’s afraid excessive blood loss could lead to fatal complications," A Cheng relayed to Zii.
Zii looked at Ye Cheng, who was slumped weakly in a chair, and felt her heart tighten.
If they didn’t treat him soon, his arm might end up permanently disabled.
Such a proud man could never beco soone disabled! And she absolutely wouldn’t allow sothing like this to happen!
"Tell the doctor that if he can’t guarantee successfully removing the bullet, he shouldn’t expect to live to see the sun rise tomorrow," Zii said coldly.
A Cheng stepped forward to pass on Zii’s chilling words. The elderly doctor, who had been fetching ergency dicine, instantly turned pale and frantically waved his hands, muttering incoherently.
Zii shot him a fierce glare, and the doctor imdiately fell silent in terror.
Under the pressing circumstances, the doctor had no choice but to steel himself and comply.
Ye Cheng was positioned to lie down on the clinic’s bed. The incandescent lamp above the bed cast a harsh light over his face, making him appear even more deathly pale. The elderly doctor adjusted his glasses and carefully began to separate the torn, bloodied flesh on Ye Cheng’s arm to retrieve the bullet.
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