Chapter Seventy-Nine: Shame

After finishing the sutures, Zhang Wenhao applied a thin layer of burn ointment over the wound. He then lifted Qian Ning’s thigh once more, wrapping gauze bandage around the injury, layer after layer. Only after completing all this did Zhang Wenhao finally let out a sigh of relief.

“It’s done,” he said, lowering Qian Ning’s leg and pointing at the bloodstained bullet on the floor. “As long as this thing is out, there shouldn’t be any major issue. Your injury isn’t serious; give it some time to heal and you’ll recover completely.”

“Really?” Qian Ning’s eyes lit up with excitement. “You mean I’ll be able to heal fully, without any aftereffects?”

Zhang Wenhao nodded. “Provided you give yourself enough time to recuperate. If you’re not careful now and hinder the wound’s healing, you might end up with lasting trouble.”

For Qian Ning, the possibility of returning to normal was crucial. If she were left lame, even the smallest inconvenience would have a fatal impact on her future.

“Thank you,” Qian Ning said, her expression complicated as she looked at Zhang Wenhao. “To have met you at such a critical moment—it’s luck I never could have imagined. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably be dead several times over by now.”

Zhang Wenhao smiled calmly. “I’ll accept your thanks. But you also owe me an apology.”

Qian Ning cast a slightly guilty glance at him. “I’m sorry. I really had no choice at the time.”

“I understand,” Zhang Wenhao replied, nodding. Then curiosity got the better of him. “I’m very curious—who are you, really? Why would so many people be after a woman like you? And this place we’re in feels special, like a shelter, a waystation, or some sort of supply post.”

Qian Ning gave a bitter smile. “I did some things, so they want to kill me. I can’t tell you the details—I’m afraid it would drag you in.” She paused, then added, “This place, we call it a supply point. There’s only one like it in River City.”

Zhang Wenhao nodded thoughtfully. “The silver needles in your leg need to stay in for now. I’ll carry you to the bed and set up an IV. Try not to move your leg or bend it.”

“No need, I can do it myself,” Qian Ning blurted, her face flushing as soon as he mentioned “carry.” She hurriedly braced herself against the ground, trying to stand.

But Zhang Wenhao quickly stepped forward and gently lifted her up, carrying her to the bed without another word.

Qian Ning hadn’t expected him to act so decisively. Being cradled in a man’s arms felt awkward, but she could sense his concern and made no move to resist, meek as a cat, letting him settle her on the bed.

He laid her down and covered her with the quilt, leaving her left leg, still studded with needles, exposed. Taking up the IV set, medicine, and saline, he prepared the treatment while explaining, “You’ve lost a fair bit of blood, but not an extreme amount. You’re weak, but with some rest, you’ll recover. I don’t know your blood type, so I didn’t bring plasma, but I’ll give you some concentrated glucose. Rest well tonight. As long as you don’t develop a fever tomorrow, you’ll be fine. Even if you do, it’s normal; the healing process can cause some tissue rejection. Just keep up with antibiotics for a few days.”

Qian Ning nodded lightly, then asked, “You’re a student—doesn’t your family worry about you staying out so late?”

“It’s fine,” Zhang Wenhao replied evenly. “I called them already. My parents trust me. I’ll stay with you tonight, and as long as nothing unusual happens, I’ll be at ease.”

At that moment, Qian Ning’s stomach gave an audible rumble, making her wish she could burrow under the covers. She hadn’t eaten all night; with the blood loss and exhaustion, hunger gnawed at her.

Zhang Wenhao took out two vials of concentrated glucose, cracked them open, and handed them to her. “You can drink these directly. They’re thick, but should help with the hunger.”

Qian Ning nodded, lips parting to down both vials. Only then did Zhang Wenhao resume preparing the IV solution. Once he had everything set, he attached the line and hung the IV bag on a coat rack.

“You’ll need two bags tonight—twelve hundred milliliters in total. If you need the restroom, let me know.”

Qian Ning felt a wave of embarrassment. If she needed to relieve herself, what would she do? Her leg was numb and she couldn’t move; would a man really have to carry her to the bathroom? The thought was mortifying.

She told herself to hold on, to endure—anything to avoid that unspeakable embarrassment.

As the medicine dripped steadily into her veins, Zhang Wenhao suddenly heard the system’s prompt: he had used the top-tier medical skill package to treat Qian Ning and received 200 points, bringing his current total to 640, with a grand total of 2,140.

In the past, he’d earned only about 200 points per mock exam, and those were just monthly. After reaching the top in the last exam, there was little chance of earning more that way. But saving lives with advanced medical skills was much easier—and far more lucrative. Last time, helping Chen Feng had netted him 500 points; now, helping Qian Ning brought in another 200. If he kept using the medical skill package, his points would multiply rapidly.

This was the ideal path: he could earn points and help others at the same time—who wouldn’t welcome such a win-win situation?

After watching over Qian Ning for an hour, half of the second bag had already infused; but her expression was growing more and more troubled.

Zhang Wenhao asked with concern, “What’s wrong? Is the IV making you uncomfortable?”

“No,” Qian Ning replied, mortified, shaking her head. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“This antibiotic doesn’t require a skin test, and allergic reactions are rare. But if your body has even a mild rejection, there could be risks. If you feel unwell, tell me immediately.”

Qian Ning blushed deeply as she looked at him. She couldn’t understand it herself—she was, in some respects, cold-blooded enough to kill without remorse—yet she’d never been this close to a man before. Now, she was desperate to go to the bathroom, barely holding on. With her injury, she couldn’t manage alone; but how could she possibly ask Zhang Wenhao to help her to the restroom?

But there was no other way. Trying to hold it would only make things worse, and if it got out of control, it would be the most humiliating moment imaginable.

After much hesitation, Qian Ning lowered her head, not daring to meet his gaze. Barely audible, she muttered, “I need to use the bathroom…”

Zhang Wenhao instantly understood. With the constant infusion, fluids were being absorbed by her tissues and would inevitably be processed by her kidneys. Wanting to relieve herself was only natural.

Without hesitation, he said, “I’ll carry you over.” With that, he gently helped her sit on the edge of the bed, took the IV bag from the rack, and held it aloft. Then he squatted down with his back to her. “Climb on, and be careful with your left leg.”

Though embarrassed, Qian Ning’s urgency far outweighed her shame. Gritting her teeth, she wrapped her arms around Zhang Wenhao’s neck.

Zhang Wenhao slowly straightened up. As Qian Ning left the bed, her chest pressed tightly against his back, and in her weakened state—with one arm attached to the IV—she could barely support herself. Just as she began to slip, she suddenly felt a strong hand supporting her from beneath, right under her hip, sending a shiver through her whole body.