The woman holding the gun had a breathtakingly beautiful face, but her neck and clothes were covered in blood—splattered blood. With the gore as a backdrop, she looked like a female yaksha risen straight from the depths of hell.
She flicked the gun, aimed, and clicked the safety off with a sharp, practiced movement. "Open up," she commanded. "We need a doctor."
The doctor covered a bounty notice with a newspaper, moved to close the window, and said, "I’m sorry, I am not a doctor. I cannot see patients."
Song Yuanchao had already reached the door. He kicked it open and stepped inside with Nie Zhao slung over his back.
Seeing the shirtless, gaunt man who looked every bit the fugitive, the doctor switched to English. "Sir, I am not taking patients. Please leave at once."
Song Yuanchao didn't understand English. He turned to Nie Han, who had followed them in, and asked, "What is he saying? What does he mean?"
Nie Han had grown up rapidly in the last two days. She spoke to Song Yuanchao in Chinese first. "This heartless doctor doesn't want to treat my uncle, and he's trying to kick us out."
Then, pointing at the Wandaozai holding the AK, she addressed the doctor in English. "If you dare refuse to treat my uncle, I’ll have this man blow your brains out right now. We are used to killing; killing you would be easier than killing a chicken!"
She then turned to the Wandaozai and said in a Taiwanese accent, "He's a doctor. Just scare him—don't actually kill him."
After the intense battle, the Wandaozai had grown surprisingly bold. He jammed the barrel of his gun against the doctor's temple and growled in Cantonese, "Do you want to see if I’ll put a bullet in your head, Four-Eyes?"
Terrified by the savage group, the doctor scrambled for the door, only to be blocked before he could make it out. It was Chen Rou, who was, in truth, the most ruthless of them all.
She towered over the short Filipino doctor, seized his hair with one hand, and used the butt of her gun to smash his nasal bridge. After four or five brutal strikes, she released him, leaving his nose a bloody mess. "You said you weren't a doctor?"
Dazed and reeling with pain, the doctor quickly recanted. "Yes, yes! I am a doctor!"
"Ghost-head Chang put a bounty on us, and you reached for the phone the moment you saw me. What was that? Thinking of reporting us?" Chen Rou asked.
The doctor waved his hands frantically. "No, no! I would never report you. I swear to God."
Chen Rou nodded and shoved the doctor toward Song Yuanchao. "He’s a doctor from a hospital affiliated with the International Red Cross, but he’s in league with Ghost-head Chang. He’s trash. Keep a close eye on him, or he’ll sell us out in a heartbeat."
Song Yuanchao pulled the doctor toward him, thoughtfully handed him some tissue to wipe the blood from his nose, and gestured toward Nie Zhao, signaling him to get to work.
Realizing he had no choice, the doctor relented and began the examination. He peeled back the eyelids to check the pupils and then took out a stethoscope. After listening for a moment, he hesitated. "This man... this..." His eyes darted around, leaving the sentence unfinished.
Chen Rou handed him a tissue and said, "I don't believe he’s dead; he’s just in a deep coma. I know you have the skills. There are two paths before you: save him and live, or don't, and die right now."
The Philippines had long been an American colony, and doctors who worked at the Red Cross in such territories had usually undergone training in America, so the doctor certainly knew what a deep coma was. Even if he didn't intend to betray them, he didn't want to save anyone; he wanted to play tricks. But with a death threat hanging over him, he had no choice but to start treatment.
After wiping his nose clean, the doctor spoke honestly. "This gentleman is indeed in a deep coma. The cause is currently unclear, and my boat lacks the large-scale equipment for a proper scan. To wake him without knowing the cause, there are three methods: physical stimulation, auditory stimulation, and deep brain stimulation. You family members can perform the first two. Deep brain stimulation requires equipment, but I am sorry, I have no such instruments here."
Song Yuanchao didn't understand the English and just stared blankly.
The Wandaozai didn't know Nie Zhao and was unaware of his status. Habitually pessimistic, he said to Nie Han, "You heard him, right? Your uncle is a vegetable now. He can't be saved. For our own survival, I suggest you..." he implied they should just ditch him.
How could she abandon her own uncle? Nie Han was on the verge of tears.
Chen Rou glared at the Wandaozai. "Don't talk if you don't know what you're talking about. A deep coma and a vegetable state are two completely different things."
Hope reignited in Nie Han. "So my uncle can still live, right, Sister A-Rou?"
In her past life, Chen Rou had lived through a hail of bullets, specializing in hostage rescue; she knew a thing or two about medicine. A deep coma and a vegetable state were indeed different. Besides, she was a transmigrator—she knew Nie Zhao would wake up eventually. She was only asking the doctor to speed up the process to make their escape easier.
She had examined Nie Zhao herself and found no head injuries. Since they couldn't risk a hospital visit while on the run, she decided to try manual stimulation. Rolling up her sleeves, she said, "I'll try. Let's see if I can wake him."
This was the first time Chen Rou had held Nie Zhao's hand since her transmigration. He was in a deep coma, and his pale, slender fingers were deathly cold.
She rubbed his chilled hands gently and leaned toward his ear. "Mr. Nie, can you hear me?"
Everyone gathered around to watch, but under their gaze, Nie Zhao showed no reaction—not even a flutter of his eyelids.
Nie Han reminded her, "Sister A-Rou, you always called him 'Uncle' just like I did."
It was true. Although the original owner had been betrothed to Nie Zhao by his mother, Han Yuzhu, that betrothal had been overturned by Father Nie, Nie Rong, long ago. Because the original owner had been supported by the Nie family throughout her studies and visited them often, she had followed Nie Han's lead in calling Nie Zhao "Uncle."
Calling him "Mr. Nie" so abruptly—he would have been confused even if he were awake, let alone in a coma.
Chen Rou was not the original owner. She saw Nie Zhao merely as a victim, and she couldn't bring herself to call a contemporary "Uncle."
She passed his hand to Nie Han, gesturing for her to do as she had, and said, "A-Han, you try first. Use touch and your voice to call out to him. If you can wake him, that would be best. If not, we'll think of something else."
Nie Han, the person who cared most for her uncle, took his hand and began to call out to him.
Chen Rou didn't waste a second; she moved to the next step. She tapped the doctor on the shoulder and said in English, "Let's go. Take me to see how much drinking water, food, fuel, and medicine you have on this boat. I need to know these things immediately."
The doctor realized her intent and hurriedly waved his hands. "Miss, there is neither food nor water on this boat. There isn't much fuel, either. It can't handle a long journey, and it certainly cannot cross the open sea to Hong Kong."
Chen Rou raised an eyebrow. "It seems you are quite sharp, Doctor. You’ve already realized we intend to commandeer this boat for Hong Kong. In that case, I won't waste my breath..."
She hadn't even finished her sentence when the doctor suddenly whipped out a scalpel and swiped at her. As she dodged, he turned to run, but Song Yuanchao, standing guard at the door, grabbed him like a chicken and slapped him across the face twice.
The poor doctor lost all will to fight. He raised his hands. "Fine, fine! The boat is yours. I’ll just get off, all right?"
Chen Rou nodded, seemingly ready to let him go. But just as he turned to leave, she grabbed his hair and slammed her gun butt into his nose again. The gun was made of cold, hard iron; there was no way that wouldn't hurt.
Blinded by agony, the doctor felt the blood he had just stemmed beginning to flow again. Wiping it away, he stumbled as he turned to lead the way. "Miss, follow me."
As they watched the doctor follow Chen Rou away, the Wandaozai whispered to Song Yuanchao, "That woman is vicious!"
Song Yuanchao's eyes were filled with nothing but admiration. "She’s ruthless and doesn't waste words. Don't you think she’s beautiful?"
It was the middle of the night, and the Wandaozai had been too busy worrying about survival to get a good look at Chen Rou's face. They were a ragtag bunch, a temporary team of stragglers. As for leading them, Chen Rou was not only qualified—in the Wandaozai's book, she was a ten out of ten. But she was so fierce and brutal that he was terrified.
He was so scared he didn't even dare look at her, and he hadn't noticed her beauty at all. He pursed his lips and shook his head. "I think she’s like a female demon!"