Quick Transmigration Cannon Fodder's Record of Counterattacks Chapter 3103: Seems to Be Some Rich Guy

Ning Shu removed the bullet from Gong Rong in a thoroughly rough-and-ready fashion—no anesthetic, nothing.

She simply jabbed the forceps straight into the flesh and yanked the bullet out.

The pain sent Gong Rong into unconsciousness, with veins still bulging on his forehead.

Ning Shu casually placed the bullet on the bedside table.

Then, she picked up so gauze and began wrapping his wounded arm.

Mother Xu caught sight of the bullet and trembled in fright. “Who is he? Why would soone shoot him?”

Ordinary people feared trouble, especially when guns were involved.

Ning Shu wiped away the blood from Gong Rong’s injury. “No idea. Seems to be so rich guy.”

Mother Xu gave her a concerned look. “Why did you cut your hair like that? You’re dressed like a boy, too.”

“Uh… just fancied a change. Thought it looked fresher this way.” There was no way to explain everything in a few words.

Better not let Mother Xu know the truth.

Mother Xu’s complexion had grown even more sallow. Ning Shu reached out and began massaging an acupuncture point at her waist.

Kidney disease often stemd from a deficiency in kidney qi.

Mother Xu had never been a great beauty, but she looked utterly worn out from too much toil and worry. Fine lines had crept around her eyes, and her skin had taken on a waxy pallor.

They didn’t have the money for a kidney transplant, and since Mother Xu had left the hospital partway through treatnt, even if they got a donor, she wouldn’t be eligible.

As Ning Shu kneaded her waist, Mother Xu felt warmth spread through her lower back. She felt a touch of comfort she hadn’t felt in a long ti.

During the ssage, Mother Xu fell asleep.

While massaging, Ning Shu quietly transferred a tiny thread of spiritual energy into her mother’s body.

She could only give a little. What she gave was the only bit she’d managed to cultivate.

Modern task worlds had way too little spiritual energy to draw on.

Anyhow, she hoped it would help support Mother Xu’s body just a little longer.

Afterward, Ning Shu ground so anti-inflammatory dicine into powder, dissolved it in warm water, and fed it to Gong Rong.

Every so often, she would check if he’d developed a fever. If he did, her only option would be to send him to hospital.

Even IV drips wouldn’t do much good for him in this condition.

Ning Shu was frankly itching to taunt Gong Rong and laugh in his face that all the effort he had put into his sches was a waste of his half-dead body’s energy.

He spiked a fever several tis. Each ti, Ning Shu gave him dicine. As soon as his temperature rose, she’d feed him more anti-inflammatory dicine.

Now and then, Mother Xu would ask Ning Shu to wipe him down, to help make his body feel a little more comfortable.

Mostly, Mother Xu just pitied the boy, who had to lie there unconscious for days. Her pity was heightened by how good-looking he was.

Ning Shu complied, not out of concern for Gong Rong, but because the sweat on his body had begun to fernt, and the stench was enough to choke her.

He wasn’t the reason. Maintaining a livable environnt was.

After two full days, Gong Rong finally woke up.

The first thing he noticed was sothing in his mouth. A strange, indescribable sll clung to his nose. It was faintly salty.

During his entire coma, Ning Shu had never once removed the sock from his mouth.

Mother Xu had tried to take it out once, but Ning Shu stopped her imdiately. “Don’t. If he wakes up and the pain’s too much, he might bite his tongue.”

Every ti she fed him dicine, Ning Shu would remove it briefly, then stuff it right back in. Anyway, it wasn’t like her sock was dirty.

Mother Xu had reluctantly accepted it. After all, her daughter was a university graduate. She’d read more books than she had. Surely she knew what she was doing.

And so, Gong Rong woke up with a sock still stuffed in his mouth.

Ning Shu stood beside the bed, looking down at him.

Gong Rong stared back at her, his gaze fixed and expression blank.

Ning Shu: …

What sort of mood was this supposed to be?

Shouldn’t he be clinging to her leg, thanking her tearfully for saving his life?

She stared right back at him.