Chapter 33 Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

“Your wife has a high fever and a swollen abdomen. There may be fluid accumulation,” Song Jingmo explained patiently, without a hint of indignation at being wrongly accused.

“I think you damn well have your eyes on my wife—a wolf in sheep’s clothing!”

Yin Siyao stepped forward to calm him: “You’re really mistaken. So many of our doctors are here, no one would harass your wife.”

“You’re all a nest of snakes and rats, none of you are good people!”

The resident doctors and interns following along were stunned, completely unsure why Wang Bingsheng had suddenly gone mad.

The woman on the bed was short and dark-skinned from years of labor, her hair more than half white.

She was a completely different world from Song Jingmo.

Even the most extreme feminists wouldn’t think to link such two vastly different people with sexual harassment.

Not to mention, Yan Xiaomei had long suffered domestic abuse, her face bruised and battered.

Anyone with even a shred of conscience wouldn’t harm such a woman who had endured so much.

For a moment, no one knew how to respond.

But in Wang Bingsheng’s eyes, he felt justified. Taking advantage of everyone’s distraction, he pulled a folding knife from his pocket and lunged straight at Song Jingmo.

The attack happened so fast that the interns screamed and scattered.

Song Jingmo reacted immediately, rushing forward to block him: “Stop! This is a hospital!”

“Siyao, call security!”

Wang Bingsheng, a trained ex-soldier, quickly shoved Yin Siyao to the ground, the blade aimed at Song Jingmo’s chest.

Song Jingmo dodged instinctively, but it was too close—he didn’t have time to move fully.

He tried to block with his right hand, but at the last moment forced the blade to deflect against his left arm.

Bang! The knife cut through his white coat and pierced the left side of his abdomen.

Song Jingmo groaned, clutching his stomach as he stepped back, his coat instantly soaked with bright red blood.

Wang Bingsheng swung the knife fiercely toward Song Jingmo’s right hand.

“Teacher Song!” the interns shouted in terror.

The right hand of a surgeon is invaluable.

Seeing this, Yin Siyao threw himself forward, trying to push Wang Bingsheng away.

The crazed man struck back with another stab, aimed at Yin Siyao’s face.

Leng Keyan, snapping out of shock, didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the nearest medical chart and slammed it hard on Wang Bingsheng’s head, desperately holding the already deranged man.

“Has security arrived?” Yin Siyao shouted.

Wang Bingsheng, enraged, elbowed Leng Keyan in the chest, then stabbed at his thigh.

Leng Keyan screamed, collapsing to the floor in pain, blood quickly soaking his pants.

“Yanyan!” Yin Siyao rushed forward, pressing on Leng Keyan’s bleeding wound. “Where’s security? Why aren’t they here yet?”

The whole ward descended into chaos; several medical staff were injured.

Screams, fighting, and calls for help mixed together.

Five minutes later, security finally arrived and subdued the still rampaging Wang Bingsheng.

“Dr. Song, are you okay?” a nurse asked, supporting Song Jingmo, who could barely stand.

“I’m fine,” Song Jingmo said, pale and sweating profusely.

Yin Siyao, pressing on Leng Keyan’s wound, anxiously looked at Song Jingmo: “Quick, get him to the OR.”

The staff quickly brought a stretcher and lifted Song Jingmo onto it.

Yin Siyao wanted to follow, but seeing the still-bleeding wound on Leng Keyan’s thigh, he gritted his teeth and shouted: “Notify the chief to operate personally; I’ll handle debridement and suturing!”

He then lifted Leng Keyan, who was grimacing in pain, and ran toward the ER.

Leng Keyan gasped: “Slow down… it hurts… it hurts…”

Yin Siyao extended his long arms and carried him straight to the ER. Leng Keyan, pressed against Yin Siyao’s chest, had no energy to notice the shocked stares around them, only whining in pain.

H City, on set.

Lu Er had just finished filming and was eating a boxed lunch in the lounge.

Bai Zhi scrolled through her phone and exclaimed: “Oh my god! Are hospital disturbances this terrifying nowadays?”

“Good thing you had foresight to leave medicine for entertainment. Not only do you earn more, but you avoid these life-threatening risks.”

Lu Er paused mid-spoon. “Did anyone die? All that shouting…”

“Wait, this person looks familiar.” Bai Zhi enlarged the photo. “Isn’t that Dr. Song? He got stabbed—and Xiao Yan’s bleeding too…”

Lu Er set down his lunch, snatched the phone.

The report’s words hit his eyes like a knife:

“This morning, a malicious hospital disturbance occurred at a hospital in A City. A patient’s relative wielded a knife, injuring multiple medical staff, including two attending doctors who were seriously wounded and sent to the OR for emergency surgery.”

The video was clear, and that figure—he knew him all too well.

His spoon clattered to the ground.

Lu Er tremblingly dialed Leng Keyan’s number, which rang for a long time before being answered.

“Uncle,” a weak voice came from the other end.

“How are you?”

“It hurts,” Leng Keyan groaned. “I got stabbed in the thigh, lost a lot of blood, but the artery wasn’t hit. I’m not dying.”

Lu Er asked the question he cared most about: “What about Song Jingmo?”

“Teacher Song isn’t doing well,” Leng Keyan whimpered. “Stabbed in the abdomen, pushed into surgery, still not out.”

Lu Er hung up and booked the next flight back to A City.

By the time he landed, it was three in the afternoon.

Wearing a mask and hat, he ran straight out of the airport and took a taxi to the hospital.

Pushing open Leng Keyan’s hospital room door, he saw him grimacing, his leg wrapped in thick bandages.

“Uncle, why did you come back all the way?” Leng Keyan looked at Lu Er, shocked. “I told you it’s nothing!”

Lu Er didn’t answer, instead asking: “How’s the injury?”

“They stitched over ten stitches. I’m fine, just really painful,” Leng Keyan said with a dumb grin. “You quitting filming?”

“What about Song Jingmo?” Lu Er interrupted, worry overflowing in his eyes.

“The chief personally operated. Luckily, no vital organs were injured. He’s out of danger and back in his room now.”

Half of Lu Er’s anxiety finally eased.

Yin Siyao entered, exhausted, his white coat still stained with dried blood.

“Room 601, diagonally across,” he said, rubbing his temples. “He’s still asleep.”

“He took the knife to his abdomen to protect his right hand, but he’s fine now.”

“I’ll go see him,” Lu Er said, leaving Leng Keyan’s room.

Standing outside, he saw Song Jingmo lying weakly in bed through the glass.

He pushed the door open softly and approached, staring at his sleeping face.

The genius who could shield him from everything, the surgical prodigy who ruled the OR, now so fragile.

He reached out to touch his cheek, but froze mid-air, eventually just tucking in the covers.

“Does it hurt…?” Lu Er whispered, his voice filled with an unrecognized tenderness.

Song Jingmo’s eyelashes twitched slightly.

Lu Er quickly withdrew his hand and stepped back, leaving the room.

As the door closed, Song Jingmo slowly opened his eyes, staring toward the doorway, his gaze complicated.