“Wait, could it be…”

Xu Mo suddenly had a bad feeling. With a panicked expression, he said to Qiao Junche, “Could it be that another female fan broke into his room in the middle of the night again, and the boss beat her up?”

“Now that you mention it, that seems even more likely.” After thinking about it, Qiao Junche suddenly found it made more sense.

Xu Mo immediately felt like crying. “It’s not just more likely, it’s definitely it! Oh no, oh no, this absolutely cannot get out, we have to keep this under wraps!”

Wei Long was at the height of his popularity right now, and there were countless people lurking behind the scenes, eyeing him hungrily, scheming to pull him down from his “pedestal.”

If someone got hold of evidence like this, and the media exaggerated it, saying Wei Long beat a woman—what would happen then? The more Xu Mo thought about it, the more terrified he became!

So Xu Mo stepped on the gas, taking Qiao Junche straight to the hotel!

The presidential suite was on the very top floor. When Xu Mo had booked the hotel, he had gone straight for the best room available for Shen Yi—after all, his boss was rich and didn’t lack for money.

When they arrived, they found the door only loosely closed, clearly left that way by Shen Yi for them.

Pushing the door open, they found Shen Yi wasn’t sitting in the living room waiting for them, which meant he was still in the bedroom.

But just as Xu Mo was about to push open the bedroom door, he found it locked.

Anxious, Xu Mo was about to knock when Shen Yi opened the door first.

“Boss, how badly is she hurt? Let me see!”

Xu Mo strained on his tiptoes, trying to see what was going on inside, but Shen Yi blocked the doorway, completely cutting off his view. If it weren’t for the fact that lying flat on the ground wouldn’t look good, he would have already crouched down to “peek.”

Shen Yi didn’t say much, only allowing Qiao Junche into the room. Xu Mo tried to follow, but ended up having the door shut in his face.

With Shen Yi acting this way, Xu Mo grew even more panicked!

Oh no, it couldn’t really be that serious, could it?

Entering the room, the first thing Qiao Junche saw was not Rong Qian lying on the bed, but a basin of water set on the nightstand—a warm towel was currently resting on the woman’s forehead.

Noticing this detail, Qiao Junche basically ruled out Xu Mo’s suspicion.

“What happened to her?” Qiao Junche walked over, asking as he set down his medical kit.

Shen Yi, brows knit, said, “I’d like to know that too—what happened to her.”

Hearing this, a hint of strangeness crossed Qiao Junche’s face, but the most pressing matter was still to first examine how badly this young lady was injured.

“How could she end up so badly injured?” Qiao Junche had only taken a cursory glance, and his brows already furrowed.

The woman lying on the bed had her hair loose and disheveled. Her looks, while not on par with a movie star, were still considered exceptional—a fair, delicate face that made the bruises on it stand out even more, and her bitten lips still bore faint traces of pink blood.

If it weren’t for the fact that the woman’s clothes were all intact and neat, Qiao Junche would have genuinely suspected this was the result of Shen Yi’s “roughness.”

Qiao Junche wanted to check what other injuries she had on her body, so he reached out to undo her clothes—but the moment his hand reached over, his wrist was seized.

“What are you trying to do?” Shen Yi’s brows were locked tight, and the grip on his wrist unconsciously tightened.

Qiao Junche cried out repeatedly in pain. “Ow, ow, ow! Calm down, I’m just trying to examine her injuries.”

“I’m calm.” Shen Yi released his hand.

Qiao Junche rubbed his aching wrist, giving Shen Yi a look that clearly said “yeah, right, I believe that.”

Shen Yi didn’t waste any more time with him. He propped Rong Qian up, letting her lean against his chest, and used one hand to undo the buttons of her clothes.

Qiao Junche just stood by and watched. He was mainly watching Shen Yi’s expression, and found that even while undressing a woman, he gave off a sense of being an upright gentleman.

There wasn’t a trace of impure or indecent intent visible.

It was only when he noticed Shen Yi’s expression suddenly darken terrifyingly that Qiao Junche’s gaze finally fell on Rong Qian—and with that one look, he understood.

Qiao Junche spent ten minutes examining Rong Qian’s injuries. He gave Shen Yi his conclusion in four words: “Take her to the clinic.”

“How serious are her injuries?” Shen Yi’s gaze stayed fixed on Rong Qian, the emotion in his eyes unreadable.

Qiao Junche said gravely, “She’s badly hurt. She must have gone through a brutal, inhuman beating—and not from just one person. Some of them hit very hard. One of her ribs is broken, and all these purple-and-blue bruises all over her body are marks from the beating.”

Shen Yi closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but his clenched fist still had veins bulging visibly.

Qiao Junche glanced at the still-unconscious Rong Qian and asked, “Shen Yi, who exactly is she to you?”

Shen Yi opened his eyes. Looking at Rong Qian, he said slowly, “She is more important to me than my own life.”

Qiao Junche froze. More important than his own life?

Qiao Junche suddenly felt intense curiosity about this woman. Just who was she, really? Where had she come from? And how had she ended up covered in injuries?

What a mysterious woman.

Xu Mo paced anxiously back and forth in the living room, and finally, the door opened!

Seeing Qiao Junche come out, Xu Mo hurried into the room, and saw Shen Yi drape a jacket over the woman before picking her up.

He shielded the woman so thoroughly that Xu Mo couldn’t even make out what she looked like.

“What’s going on? What are you all about to do?” Xu Mo looked utterly bewildered.

Qiao Junche told him, “This young lady is badly injured. She needs to be admitted to the clinic for treatment.”

“Injured this badly!” Xu Mo was shocked. The way he looked at Shen Yi even carried a trace of anger. “Boss, how could you hit someone this hard! She’s a woman, after all!”

Shen Yi ignored him and walked off, carrying Rong Qian.

Qiao Junche let out a laugh and said, “Xu Mo, you’d better hurry up and go get the car ready.”

“Is she really that badly hurt?” Xu Mo asked, his face full of woe.

Qiao Junche nodded with a perfectly serious expression, deliberately not telling him the “truth.”

As a result, Xu Mo sulked at Shen Yi the entire way there, refusing to speak to him.

Of course, this was entirely one-sided on his part—Shen Yi’s attention wasn’t on him at all.

Qiao Junche sat in the passenger seat, watching Shen Yi in the rearview mirror with great interest the whole way. The way he looked at the woman in his arms could hardly be called innocent—calling it “deeply, tenderly affectionate” wouldn’t be an exaggeration at all.

And yet this fool Xu Mo still thought she was just some female fan?

Was he blind or something?

Rong Qian was unconscious for a full day and night before she woke up.

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a white ceiling. Was this a hospital?

Rong Qian’s consciousness gradually returned. She turned her head and looked around—from the decor of the room, it really did look like a hospital ward, and she herself was now lying on a bed with an IV drip in her arm. It seemed some “kind soul” had sent her to the hospital.

Just as Rong Qian was about to push herself up to sit, the door opened. “Oh? You’re awake?”

Rong Qian looked up and saw a man in a white coat walk in, his hands in his pockets. Although his smile was bright, with a face like that of a “spoiled young master,” his smile only made him look like a philandering playboy.

The kind who’d flirt with respectable women in broad daylight, no less.

Only after sitting up did Rong Qian ask him, “Could I ask—where am I, exactly?”

“A hospital.” Qiao Junche answered her.

“I mean, what place is this? Is this America?” Rong Qian knew her question sounded strange, but she had to be sure.

Sure enough, Qiao Junche’s expression turned odd, but he still answered: “This is Hong Kong.”

Rong Qian blinked. She was in Hong Kong? Wait—then what year was it now?

Rong Qian hurriedly asked him, “Is there a calendar? What’s today’s date?”

“August 15th. Today’s the Mid-Autumn Festival.”

“What year?”

Qiao Junche’s expression grew even more puzzled. He began to wonder whether they shouldn’t have placed her in a clinic at all, but in a psychiatric hospital instead.

“It’s 1978 right now.” Qiao Junche asked cautiously, “Miss, if I may be so bold to ask—did you just wake up a bit groggy?”