Lu Xian was taken aback: “Didn’t you leave? You’re back?”
Yan Tuo stepped out of the elevator, countering: “Where are you going?”
More people meant more fun, so Lu Xian invited him: “Getting massages. Come on, join us—A Peng’s treating.”
The elevator doors closed again, but since no one else was on this floor, it remained stopped. A Peng pressed the button to open it, laughing: “With the big boss here, how can I be the one treating? I’m not worthy.”
Everyone laughed together.
Yan Tuo, face cold, grabbed Lu Xian’s arm and said to A Peng: “You go without him. I have accounts to settle with him.”
Before Lu Xian could understand what was happening, he was being dragged backward toward the door, stumbling and stammering: “Hey, hey, what’s this about…”
A Peng and the others exchanged bewildered looks as they watched the two reach the door, enter the room, and slam it shut.
Someone pressed the button, and the elevator doors opened again. They all piled in.
As the doors closed, A Si muttered: “He bought us breakfast this morning, thought this big boss was easy to get along with. Who knew he could look so scary when his face darkens.”
A Peng cleared his throat: “That’s what leadership is—being approachable when needed and showing authority when necessary—that’s leadership wisdom.”
***
Lu Xian stumbled into the room, completely confused.
The room was quiet. Yan Tuo asked: “Where’s Tian Xiang?”
Lu Xian gestured toward the room opposite: “It wasn’t a fatal injury. Once he stabilized, we moved him across the hall.”
“So no one’s in this room now?”
“There are people—aren’t you and I people?”
Yan Tuo crouched down, setting the suitcase down as gently as possible, then quickly unlatched and opened it: “Save her.”
Lu Xian’s “Save who?” died on his lips.
He saw a young woman curled in the suitcase, her long hair disheveled, face white as paper, covered in blood, impossible to tell if she was alive or dead, her left arm bent at an unnatural angle.
Yan Tuo reached to lift her, not looking up: “I know we shouldn’t move her if possible, but we don’t have that luxury… I did basic first aid to stop the bleeding, but my technique wasn’t good, probably inadequate. Hurry…”
Noticing Lu Xian standing frozen, he looked up and shouted: “Are you fucking stupid? Save her!”
Lu Xian startled, finally snapping out of his daze.
***
When Lu Xian worked in the hospital, the operating room had many rules: complete sterilization, limited personnel, no patient clothing allowed in the operating room, and floor cleaning with chlorine disinfectant at least twice daily…
But when working in a makeshift setup, many rules got rounded off. Xiong Hei’s group didn’t care about such things—some even wanted to stay and film videos—so over time, he’d become less strict.
Lu Xian put on sterile clothing, cap, and mask, then tried to chase Yan Tuo out: “Leave! Surgery requires a sterile environment. Out! I need to anesthetize her first.”
At this point, what was the use of being sterile? Wasn’t Nie Jiuluo’s clothing covered in bacteria?
Yan Tuo fumed internally but kept it to himself: in the operating room, the doctor’s word was law. Even if Lu Xian told him to crawl out, he’d have to crawl.
Yan Tuo quickly headed for the door, about to close it when Lu Xian called out: “Yan Tuo!”
Something in his voice was wrong. Yan Tuo froze, turning to look.
Lu Xian had been bending down to apply pressure, but now straightened up, eyes still fixed on Nie Jiuluo: “She’s not breathing.”
Her chest wasn’t moving.
Yan Tuo’s mind buzzed. He cursed: “Bullshit, she just…”
Halfway through, he forgot how long ago “just” was. He quickly walked to the table, holding his hand over Nie Jiuluo’s mouth and nose: in his rush, he couldn’t tell if she was breathing, only that her lips were still warm, not cold.
Warm was good enough.
He looked at Lu Xian: “Give her an intracardiac injection! Epine… phrine or metro… pine, and what about defibrillation? Didn’t we get a defibrillator?”
Strangely, these were all things he’d picked up in casual conversation with Lu Xian before. Normally he’d never remember them, but now his mind was crystal clear, even getting the medical terms exactly right.
Lu Xian stammered: “The defibrillator… she has multiple external injuries, still bleeding, risk of electrical leakage. Intracardiac injection is dangerous, rarely used now, the effects aren’t…”
Yan Tuo cut him off: “More dangerous than death?”
He’d always thought Lu Xian seemed professional and decisive, but today he looked increasingly useless. Yan Tuo raged: “Are you the doctor or am I? Do I need to teach you these emergency procedures? And you…”
Glancing at Nie Jiuluo’s tight-fitting outfit, he grew even angrier: “Why haven’t you cut off this tight clothing? With her chest compressed like this, she’d suffocate even if she was breathing!”
Lu Xian had no choice but to turn and prepare the injection and equipment.
Yan Tuo grabbed the surgical scissors, lifted her collar, and started cutting down. Halfway through, impatient with the speed, he grabbed both sides and ripped with force, tearing it open.
Her abdomen was covered in blood, almost fused with the clothing, with at least two bullet wounds—two nearly black holes.
With the clothes cut open, there was still a bra underneath. Seeing this high-intensity support bra, Yan Tuo gritted his teeth and lifted the scissors again without thinking: she’s not even breathing, and still wearing this high-intensity, strong support thing!
This wasn’t Nie Jiuluo’s fault—she’d changed into it in the taxi for easier fighting.
As he cut, Yan Tuo suddenly realized this wasn’t appropriate. Seeing the cup connections snap open, he instinctively reached to cover her, but as he did, felt soft fullness sink into his palm.
His mind went blank, mortified, not knowing whether to remove his hand or keep it there, seeing the operating room in chaos, himself in chaos.
Meanwhile, Lu Xian had returned with preparations ready. In this life-or-death moment, there was no time for other concerns. Yan Tuo hurriedly gathered the cut clothing to cover her.
But Lu Xian didn’t care about such things—he was a doctor, and on the operating table there were only patients, only bodies, regardless of gender, age, size, or appearance.
He was still hesitant about using electric shock, first disinfecting the skin around her heart.
Yan Tuo turned his face away, catching glimpses of Lu Xian administering the injection.
Time suddenly became unbearably long. Yan Tuo didn’t know if she would wake up after the injection, or how long it would take: if she could wake up, it should be quick; if not, she would never wake again.
He stared at the empty corner of the operating room, sensing that Lu Xian had started compressions again. One, two.
Then, at some moment, he heard a “huh” escape from Nie Jiuluo’s throat.
Lu Xian let out a long breath, stepping back twice. With no nurse to wipe his sweat, he could only tilt his head back, trying to let the sweat flow backward to be absorbed by his hair and surgical cap.
Yan Tuo spun around, his gaze immediately falling on Nie Jiuluo’s right hand resting on the edge of the operating table. Her right arm was uninjured, intact, and her fingertips were twitching uncontrollably as if desperately trying to grasp something.
Yan Tuo bent down, enclosing her hand in his palm, gripping firmly: “Miss Nie?”
Her hand finally stilled, lying almost lifelessly in his palm, fingertips ice-cold, the veins on her pale hand looking delicate—Yan Tuo gripped tighter, wishing that if life force could be transferred through such contact, he would willingly share some of his.
Lu Xian, now back to his senses, chased him away: “Get out! I’m just getting started, I said surgery needs a sterile environment! Do you want her to die?”
Back in the hospital, family members were never allowed during surgery, regardless of what they promised: extra payment, wearing sterile clothing with masks and gloves, staying silently in the corner—none of it was permitted.
Lu Xian had thought then it was unnecessary: why not let people in if they’re willing to pay? It would be another revenue stream for the hospital, and with proper protection, they’d be no different from standing equipment.
Now he understood why not—goodness, that shouting earlier had nearly stunned him into confusion.
***
After leaving the operating room, Yan Tuo first searched through Lu Xian’s room, dunked his phone in water, pocketed the door key hanging in the entryway, and finally grabbed a beer from the refrigerator before sitting at the dining table to wait.
From this angle, he could see the closed operating room door—just a door, no indicator light. Just a “Surgery in Progress” light wouldn’t be enough; there should be a progress bar showing the percentage complete. At least then the waiting wouldn’t feel endless.
He had many urgent matters to handle.
The needle that needed to be inserted into Dog Tooth’s body, Jiang Baichuan, and the three Dixiao heading to the farm—who knew if this journey was related to the “death sentence” Lin Ling had heard about.
At the pump house, he’d only done basic concealment and cleanup, waiting for nightfall to finish properly.
But he couldn’t leave—not knowing if Nie Jiuluo would live or die, he couldn’t leave.
He could only wait, his mind too chaotic to do anything. Trying to analyze or plan something, he couldn’t focus, so he opened his phone and searched “surgery,” “intracardiac injection,” and “how dangerous is abdominal gunshot.” He opened page after page, recognizing all the words but unable to comprehend their meaning when strung together.
Accidentally clicking into a surgery-related post, he saw a reply saying that while waiting for family members in surgery, they would recite Buddhist sutras repeatedly, praying for their loved ones and finding peace themselves.
Yan Tuo thought this was a good idea. He searched for the complete text of the Diamond Sutra online, found paper and pen, and began copying character by character.
The sutra was relatively obscure, with some characters he didn’t recognize and some phrases he couldn’t properly parse, like “develop anuttara-samyak-sambodhi mind” and “whether there is a notion or no notion, or neither notion nor no notion.” But this suited him perfectly—his mind was already muddled, and copying meaningful text might be more distracting.
He didn’t know how long he’d been copying when someone knocked. Yan Tuo put down his pen and went to open the door, expressionless.
A Peng was outside. Seeing Yan Tuo’s expression, he was nervous but still managed a smile: “Mr… Mr. Yan, you wanted to settle accounts with Lu Xian—nothing serious, right?”
Yan Tuo said: “Nothing much, just about his crappy car. I almost died in it, need to settle that account.”
A Peng suddenly understood—no wonder he’d turned back halfway. Yan Tuo had borrowed Lu Xian’s car, and “almost died” which meant the car’s poor condition had nearly caused an accident.
He tried to mediate: “Fortunately nothing happened. Mr. Yan, you’re blessed with good luck—in a way, you even saved Lu Xian’s life… We got takeout, want to join us?”
Yan Tuo: “No need, I’ll eat out later.”
After dismissing A Peng, he sat back at the table and continued copying the sutra.
The Diamond Sutra has over five thousand characters. He was starting his second copy when the operating room door opened.
Lu Xian walked out, leaning against the doorframe, removing his mask, and then lowering his head to pull off his cap.
Yan Tuo looked up at him: “Is she dead?”
Lu Xian was speechless, then replied irritably after a pause: “Can’t say she’s fine yet, needs observation! At least twenty-four hours of observation.”
Yan Tuo walked toward Lu Xian.
Lu Xian thought he wanted to talk, but Yan Tuo kept coming closer, finally grabbing his collar and shoving him against the wall.
This was truly inexplicable—Yan Tuo had been acting completely abnormal since returning. Lu Xian rolled his eyes: “What now, you’re going to pin me against the wall?”
Yan Tuo was wrestling internally.
The situation was special; he needed to prepare for the worst.
Could Lu Xian be trusted? Was he a Chang Gui?
But Nie Jiuluo wasn’t past the danger period yet, and they still needed Lu Xian’s help.
Yan Tuo smiled, releasing his grip and even smoothing Lu Xian’s collar before leaning in to whisper: “This is highly confidential unfinished business. Very important—can’t tell anyone.”
Lu Xian pushed him away irritably: “Get away from me, I’m straight.”
He added: “I understand—she was brought in a suitcase, how could I not understand?”
The understanding was good. Yan Tuo gestured toward the opposite room: “Don’t mention this to anyone, keep it to yourself. From now on, no one from that room enters this one.”
Lu Xian glanced at him sideways: “They hardly come here anyway… Who is she?”
He felt Yan Tuo seemed quite concerned about this woman.
Yan Tuo remained silent, just staring at him.
Lu Xian grew uncomfortable under his gaze: “Fine, fine, won’t ask, won’t tell.”
Yan Tuo gestured toward the operating room: “I’m carrying bacteria—can I see her?”
Lu Xian had too many complaints to voice. Actually, Nie Jiuluo’s surgery wasn’t like brain surgery where infection or complications were likely, and he didn’t have an ICU here—complete “sterility” was impossible anyway.
But he still snapped: “Can’t you be bacteria-free? We have sterile clothing, masks, caps, shoe covers—everything. Can’t you wear them?”
Yan Tuo nodded and, under Lu Xian’s gaze, actually went to put them on.
***
Compared to earlier, the operating room was now clean. The blood-soaked disinfectant cloths, cotton balls, and even Nie Jiuluo’s coat and shoes had been sealed in plastic bags.
Nie Jiuluo lay quietly on the table, her face pale, lips tinged gray, covered with a green surgical drape.
Thankfully, she was breathing—the drape moved slightly with her body’s rise and fall.
Yan Tuo lifted the drape for a brief look.
Her abdomen was thickly wrapped in bandages, layer upon layer, very secure. Her left arm had a brace. From behind, Lu Xian suddenly remembered something and poked his head in: “Oh right, about her arm—don’t put it in a cast yet, in case there’s comminuted fracture or poor fracture lines. I’d recommend getting it checked at a major hospital—my equipment isn’t that sophisticated.”
Yan Tuo lowered the drape and stepped out.
Lu Xian had changed out of his surgical gear and was washing his hands in the bathroom. Yan Tuo walked over, leaning against the doorframe: “I’m going out to buy her some clothes.”
Lu Xian made a noncommittal sound.
“Also, I need to apologize.”
Lu Xian lifted his head proudly: “Is this about treating the doctor so rudely earlier?”
Yan Tuo pointed at the toilet with its lid down: “No, I was bored earlier, playing games on your phone, and it slipped…”
Lu Xian was horrified, rushing over to lift the lid: it was true—his phone was stuck in the bottom drain pipe, dead from water damage.
Yan Tuo said: “So I’ll buy you a new phone too. Don’t worry, I’m the type who repays silver with gold. If it’s too late to buy one today, I’ll get it tomorrow. I’m off.”
Without waiting for Lu Xian’s reaction, he strode out, and as he closed the door, inserted the key and turned it, locking Lu Xian inside.