Mad Dog

The hospital was now in a state of chaos.
A group of interns from Lan University had returned from Yingzhou on the afternoon flight, and the incident occurred while they were traveling back to campus after disembarking.
Around ten students were involved, and the school had sent four cars to pick them up, with the standard configuration being four people per vehicle. Unfortunately, the car Zhi Qi was in had an accident while passing through Huai Bei Road.
It was a typical rear-end collision; the car was knocked over to the side, and the driver instinctively swerved the steering wheel to protect himself, resulting in the student sitting in the front passenger seat dying on the spot.
Fortunately, Zhi Qi was in the back seat, safely buckled in, and now she, along with two other students whose fates were also uncertain, had been rushed into the operating room for emergency treatment.
The teachers responsible for the other cars heard the news and immediately felt a rush of panic; they were almost too stunned to react.
However, they managed to collect themselves enough to contact the emergency contacts of the students involved, prioritizing the parents, of course.
When Zhi Minglin and Mei Ran received the call, they nearly suffered from hypertension on the spot. They quickly called Zhi Yu to drive them to the hospital. On the way, the man ran two red lights, his face pale as a sheet.
Three unconscious car accident victims were rushed into the emergency room, where the staff were overwhelmed, scrambling to arrange examinations and surgeries. The atmosphere was chaotic, with shouts of “Family members of the patients, come sign here” echoing, resembling a marketplace.
She had asked about Zhi Qi’s condition, but the doctor couldn’t give her any answers, only stating that the patients had been taken into surgery.
But what kind of good news could it be if they needed immediate surgery? Hearing the terms “epidural hematoma” and “brain injury” made Mei Ran nearly faint.
In order to prevent her and Zhi Minglin from passing out from high blood pressure, Zhi Yu held back the overwhelming chill in his heart and forced himself to escort his parents to the waiting area.
Once everything settled down, Zhi Yu finally obtained Zhi Qi’s phone from one of Lan University’s teachers.
It was then he discovered that, in the final moments before the accident, his sister had been sitting in the car texting Jiang Qi, their WeChat conversation filled with sweet sentiments. The last message she typed was “I’m back, on my way to school,” but it hadn’t even been sent before the accident struck like a demon.
Zhi Yu closed his eyes, fighting the urge to throw the phone out of frustration. He took several deep breaths before locating “Jiang Qi” in the contact list and dialing his number.
He felt it necessary to inform Jiang Qi.
Once his sister woke up, she would surely want to see that brat—he firmly believed she would wake up and turn misfortune into fortune.
Qu Heng had never seen Jiang Qi like this before.
It was as if he had lost his soul after receiving a phone call; his face turned ashen, and he unconsciously dropped his phone, which shattered on the ground, and stood up as if bewitched, heading towards the exit.
“Jiang Qi?” Qu Heng’s heart skipped a beat as he rushed to catch up with him. “Are you okay?”
Jiang Qi’s pupils were unfocused, staring blankly at him. “City hospital. I need to go to the city hospital.”
Qu Heng didn’t know what had happened, but his instinct told him it was serious. Someone must have had an accident at the hospital.
Without thinking, he said, “I’ll drive you.”
If Jiang Qi drove himself or took a taxi in this state, Qu Heng was certain he would end up in the hospital too.
On the way to the hospital, Qu Heng glanced over and saw Jiang Qi had gripped his own hand so hard that it was bleeding, yet his gaze remained vacant—this unconscious self-harm clearly indicated his inner turmoil.
Qu Heng clenched his teeth, unsure of how to comfort him, or even if Jiang Qi needed comforting.
He just ran a red light and drove as fast as he could on the busy city roads.
Jiang Qi felt like his heart was pounding so loud he couldn’t hear anything else; all he could think about was the location Zhi Yu had told him. He didn’t hear Qu Heng asking him questions or the surrounding noise of people bustling about. He didn’t even realize he wasn’t wearing a mask.
In the midst of the screams around him, all that filled his mind was the keyword “eighth-floor operating room.”
There were too many people queuing for the hospital elevator; he couldn’t wait.
Jiang Qi, like a headless fly, found the emergency exit and prepared to climb the stairs—but he tripped and fell on the first flight, his knee hitting the step hard enough to draw blood, yet he didn’t notice the pain at all.
It seemed he was oblivious to the hurt as he stood up again and quickly scrambled up the stairs, moving faster than he had in the hundred-meter race during his middle school entrance exam—no, he was even faster than that, as if the wound on his knee had flipped a switch.
Qu Heng watched in shock, instinctively calling out, “Jiang Qi!”
But there was no response. In that brief moment of distraction, the boy had already climbed an entire floor at an astonishing speed.
Qu Heng bit his lip, pondering why he was putting himself through this ordeal, yet he felt he couldn’t abandon Jiang Qi. Jiang Qi was an emotional and problematic boy; if he was left unchecked and something went wrong… would filming for his movie have to be postponed again?
Qu Heng found himself a reason, but deep down, he was more worried.
Panting heavily, he followed Jiang Qi up the eight flights of stairs.
Jiang Qi counted the floors, and when he finally reached the eighth floor, it took him less than five minutes.
With a loud bang, he pushed open the door to the emergency exit, startling several people standing in the stairwell—along with the frantic boy with bloodshot eyes, looking as if he had just emerged from hell.
“Operating room.” Jiang Qi grabbed a nurse, his voice hoarse and nearly out of tune, “Where’s the operating room?”
The nurse was startled, staring at him blankly. “It’s… it’s just ahead, left turn.”
Why did this boy look familiar?
However, before she could finish her thought, Jiang Qi’s shadow had already disappeared. He dashed to the operating room door and spotted Zhi Yu.
“Brother Yu.” Jiang Qi disregarded everything else and rushed over to grab his hand, squeezing tightly as if he were clinging to a lifeline. In the man’s shocked gaze, he pressed down hard enough to cause pain. “What’s going on? How’s Zhi Qi?”
Jiang Qi’s hair was a mess from his rapid ascent, his face pale and glistening with cold sweat, his eyes red as if they were bleeding, looking like a demon.
“Calm down.”
Zhi Yu had never imagined just three minutes ago that he would be able to tell someone else to “calm down” while feeling like he was about to hit a wall himself. But looking at Jiang Qi, he felt the boy needed a sedative.
“Zhi Qi is still in surgery. She just went in half an hour ago.”
Zhi Yu sighed as he explained, “It’s an emergency. The attending physician hasn’t had a chance to inform us of her condition yet.”
Jiang Qi stared blankly at him, and in an instant, the light of desperation that had been in his eyes seemed to extinguish.
Then he slid down the wall and sat on the floor, motionless.
Zhi Yu and Qu Heng, who had rushed in breathlessly, exchanged glances, then shifted their attention to Jiang Qi sitting in the corner.
For some reason, both felt an inexplicable sense of dread emanating from the boy, a deep-seated fear.
It was as if Jiang Qi was now a wounded beast; anyone who approached him, even with the gentlest question, would risk being bitten.
But what they didn’t know was that Jiang Qi was simply consumed by despair.
“I’m Jiang Qi’s director,” Qu Heng gathered his breath and cautiously asked Zhi Yu, “Is it okay to ask what… what happened?”
Zhi Yu’s eyes were also red; he looked up at Qu Heng and said coldly, “My sister, Zhi Qi.”
.
Qu Heng’s heart dropped at that moment, and he felt a chill run through him.
If something had happened to Zhi Qi, then Jiang Qi… he could hardly bear to think any further.
As seconds ticked by, many of the patients’ families in the corridor gradually transitioned from anxious yelling to silence, with only the faint sounds of sobbing remaining, but the atmosphere was thick with suffocating tension.
Jiang Qi stared blankly at the floor, his mind fixated on one thought—if Zhi Qi were to… if something were truly to happen to her, then he wouldn’t want to live anymore.
Without that girl, his life would hold no meaning.
As this thought emerged, it seemed to lighten his entire being, and Jiang Qi stared at the ground, momentarily even smiling.
Yes, nothing was to be feared.
They would be together; wherever they were, he would always cling to Zhi Qi.
The waiting felt interminable. Jiang Qi vaguely heard someone trying to talk to him, their words a muddled hum like a fly buzzing. He didn’t want to engage.
The boy was solely focused on recalling everything about the girl, the memories associated with Zhi Qi swirling in
his mind as if this were the final lesson of his life, needing to be remembered.
Even when Zhi Minglin and Mei Ran arrived and exchanged surprised glances with Zhi Yu, when they crouched down to speak with Jiang Qi, he was completely unaware.
He didn’t want to acknowledge anyone, stubbornly and obsessively lost in his thoughts.
—Until the green light outside the operating room beeped, and a doctor stepped out.
Jiang Qi finally regained his senses, as if awakening from a deep slumber, and the first thing he did was rush to the doctor.
“Zhi—Zhi Qi…” His tongue felt heavy as he stumbled over his words, “How is she? How is she?”
“Are you a family member or a patient?” The doctor, feeling his wrist painfully squeezed, frowned and asked, “Get him a sedative.”
Qu Heng rushed forward and grabbed Jiang Qi from behind, pulling him back with all his might.
“Doctor, I’m Zhi Qi’s mother. I just signed the consent form,” Mei Ran approached, her eyes swollen from crying as she trembled and incoherently asked, “How is she?”
“Zhi Qi was the third girl brought in.” The doctor removed his mask and announced the good news in an official, emotionless tone. “Fortunately, she was wearing her seatbelt and was sitting in the back left of the car, so her head wasn’t severely injured. She has a broken leg that’s already been stabilized with a steel pin. She also suffered some soft tissue injuries, but overall, there’s nothing major. After the anesthesia wears off, she can be moved to a hospital room for observation.”
As the doctor finished speaking, almost everyone present breathed a sigh of relief, including Qu Heng, who had been holding Jiang Qi back to prevent him from going into a frenzy.
In the next moment, he felt the once-rigid boy, who had been like a lifeless statue, completely collapse in his arms.
It was as if Jiang Qi had just experienced the most terrifying roller coaster of his life, and he couldn’t hold back any longer—he passed out.
—This was a moment of weakness he had never experienced before in his life.
In front of everyone, he laid bare his vulnerability.
Zhi Qi was truly his only soft spot.