Great, this was feeling more and more like an episode of Country Love Story.
Xu Chun accepted the bouquet of foxtail grass from Murong Beichen with a complicated expression, but still friend-zoned him: "I'm sorry, Murong Beichen. I just want to focus on my studies."
Zhu Yaya, who was watching the drama unfold, rolled her eyes. That was what she said now, but she would still say yes later on.
Murong Beichen looked heartbroken, clutching his heart: "You, you actually rejected my confession yet again. You don't know how painfully, painfully I love you."
Xu Chun's stubborn little face was filled with emotion: "No, I know how painfully, painfully you love me!"
"No, no, you don't know!"
"No, no, no, I know!"
...
Afterward, the two of them engaged in a meaningless and brain-dead, bizarre conversation over the issue of whether she knew or didn't know. The girls surrounding Murong Beichen gradually dispersed, until only Zhu Yaya and Yan Heng were left spectating.
Chewing on a piece of watermelon, Zhu Yaya stared with dead-fish eyes at Murong Beichen and Xu Chun, who were still completely absorbed in their conversation. Her body was here, but her mind had already drifted off.
She so wanted to clock out!
Finally, the system's notification sound rang out: "Congratulations on successfully completing the fifteenth task. You are rewarded with three years of lifespan and twenty thousand RMB."
Zhu Yaya smiled in satisfaction, closed the lid of her container, and prepared to call it a day and head home.
Just as she was about to leave, Xu Chun suddenly and inexplicably shoved the bouquet of foxtail grass forcefully back into Murong Beichen's arms and ran off whimpering, "I'm sorry, Murong Beichen. I'm just a coward with an inferiority complex when it comes to love."
Murong Beichen casually tossed the foxtail grass aside and chased after her: "Chun'er, don't run so fast! Your Brother Chen can hardly keep up!"
Zhu Yaya, who happened to be hit by that large bouquet of foxtail grass: ...
I have a string of curses on the tip of my tongue, I wonder if I should say them out loud?
Yan Heng chuckled softly and took the foxtail grass off Zhu Yaya's head.
Zhu Yaya's face was cold, carrying a murderous aura: "Can I call the police and have them drag these two irritating things away?"
Seriously, you guys can mess around however you want, but why must you torture an insignificant bystander like her?
Yan Heng seriously considered this question and shook his head: "It seems you can't."
Because of this incident, Zhu Yaya's mood on her way home was less than stellar. Her lips were pouting so high you could hang an oil jug on them.
When Yan Heng left, he rubbed her head: "When you are home alone, don't just open the door for anyone."
"Got it." Zhu Yaya's mouth was still pouting. She turned on her phone; it was already past eleven late at night. "You too, be careful when you go back to the West District alone. My dad said there are quite a lot of troublemakers in the West District around the New Year."
"Mhm," Yan Heng replied.
He stood downstairs at Zhu Yaya's apartment building, watching her back disappear into the stairwell entrance. Then, he cast his gaze towards the window of Zhu Yaya's home. The window was dark. It seemed that Uncle Zhu and Aunt Zhao had not returned yet, Yan Heng thought to himself. He only left after light shone out from the window.
After walking a few steps and even unlocking his bicycle, he still felt uneasy. He took out his phone and sent a QQ message to Zhu Yaya. Upon seeing Zhu Yaya's quick reply, he finally felt truly at ease and rode off on his worn-out bicycle.
The streetlights in the West District were very dim, and since it was late at night, there were hardly any people on the streets. It was extremely quiet, and within this silence, it seemed as if some unseen danger was lurking and watching from the shadows.
Yan Heng's eyes narrowed slightly, and the light in his eyes darkened.
Yan Heng rode his bicycle past Wutong Street. Tonight, the streetlights on Wutong Street were surprisingly broken. Coupled with the fact that tonight's moon was obscured by clouds, the night was as thick and black as ink. The road ahead was pitch-black.
Yan Heng squeezed the bicycle brakes, got off the bike, turned on his phone's flashlight for illumination, and pushed the bicycle, walking slowly. His figure gradually melted into the night.
At the corner of Wutong Street was an exceptionally dark alley. Yan Heng's footsteps paused; this was the same small alley where Zhu Yaya, Murong Beichen, and Xu Chun had been blocked by hooligans before! His mind unconsciously recalled how Zhu Yaya looked at that time—clearly terrified, yet forcing herself to act calm.
Just at that moment, he faintly heard a man's weak voice—
"Help..."
Yan Heng frowned, turned off the flashlight on his phone, and without a word, quietly and stealthily tiptoed closer to the source of the sound.
The further he walked forward, the clearer that weak voice gradually became. Listening closely, Yan Heng actually recognized it as Zhu Jianjun's voice!
Yan Heng's pupils dilated. He dropped his guard, turned on his phone's flashlight, and swept the beam toward the source of the sound.
Lying there on the ground was shockingly Zhu Jianjun. He was curled up, both hands clutching his abdomen. His stomach area was covered in dark, bloody hues, and a large pool of blood had formed on the ground. Zhu Jianjun's eyes were tightly shut, but he was still murmuring weakly for help.
"Uncle Zhu!"
Yan Heng strode over quickly. His hands didn't stop moving as he immediately dialed 120, giving the dispatcher the exact address and detailed information over the phone. He glanced at the blood on the ground and added that the victim was suffering from severe blood loss.
After finishing the call, Yan Heng knelt beside Zhu Jianjun, leaned down, and said in his ear: "Uncle Zhu, it's Yan Heng. The ambulance will be here right away, just hold on a little longer!"
At this time, Zhu Jianjun's consciousness had become somewhat hazy. His cries for help stopped, and he began to mutter the names of Zhu Yaya and Zhao Jing.
While using the light from his phone's flashlight to check Zhu Jianjun's wound, Yan Heng didn't forget to keep telling him to hold on, comforting him.
Zhu Jianjun wasn't wounded too deeply, but his abdomen had been stabbed by an unidentified sharp object, severing a blood vessel and causing massive bleeding. However, if the wound wasn't treated promptly, Zhu Jianjun would very likely die from excessive blood loss.
Even though it was winter with extremely low temperatures, Yan Heng's forehead was covered with dense beads of sweat.
Yan Heng looked around and quickly found a discarded, torn shirt. He applied a simple pressure bandage to Zhu Jianjun's wound in an attempt to stop the blood loss.
Soon, the ambulance arrived, roaring in with its sirens blaring, breaking the deathly silence that had just enveloped the West District. Yan Heng, along with the accompanying doctors and nurses, lifted Zhu Jianjun onto a stretcher and carried him into the ambulance.
The ambulance drove towards the nearest Imperial Capital Third People's Hospital. Zhao Jing happened to be in this very ambulance.
Zhao Jing had worked so many night shifts at the hospital, but she never expected that one day her own husband would be rushed by ambulance in the middle of the night to the hospital where she worked.
Zhao Jing's eyes immediately filled with tears. Her body trembled as she stared fixedly at Zhu Jianjun lying on the stretcher, desperately suppressing the urge to wail.
At the exact same moment, Zhu Yaya, who was in bed getting ready to sleep, received a text message from Zhu Jianjun.
