The white bed sheet was soaked with urine stains.
Zhou Boning is over fifty years old, with a strong and resolute appearance. Although he is middle-aged, his eyes are bright and unyielding, without the slightest hint of softness or warmth.
Zhou Qishen met his gaze coldly, even more rigid and cold than he was. He said, "If he can sleep there, so be it."
Ignoring the needle in his hand, Zhou Boning grabbed a water glass from the table and smashed it over his son's head.
Zhou Qishen easily dodged by turning his head away.
"You, you unfilial brat, I am your father! Even if I'm paralyzed, you'll still have to serve me your father's dirty laundry for the rest of your life!"
Zhou Qishen kicked over the bucket on the ground, his eyes filled with a cold, malicious glint, "Good luck to you."
He said that and left.
The cursing from Zhou Boning in the ward was extremely offensive.
Zhou Qishen's face was grim, his mood extremely bad. He stayed at the hospital for less than half an hour before immediately returning to Xianyang Airport.
He remembered his childhood, when Zhou Boning would pick him up and throw him outside. It was a summer like this too, the heat scorching the ground, not a breath of wind, the dry sun like an oven. Zhou Boning hadn't put shoes on him; the asphalt on the newly repaired road was still wet. Six or seven-year-old Zhou Qishen was still very thin, and his bare feet were burning so badly he didn't know where to put them. The asphalt tore at the soles of his feet, and the blisters from the burns became infected and festered. He had a fever for half a month and almost thought he was going to die.
He recalled his senior year of high school. Despite having grades high enough to get into Tsinghua University, Zhou Boning forced him to join the army. The seventeen-year-old boy was growing stronger and dared to rebel. But the very next day, Zhou Boning burned all his textbooks and schoolbag to ashes.
That ball of flame was as fierce as lightning, striking his heart and causing him pain for many years.
It was already late at night when they arrived in Beijing. As they drove out of the parking lot and onto the surface, Zhou Qishen's migraine flared up, and he felt terrible.
He smoked one cigarette after another, and even after exiting the airport expressway, the white Land Rover still sped along like a flying sword.
Heading east along West Chang'an Avenue, through the heart of the capital, Zhou Qishen sped up. Near Hujialou subway station, he pulled over. He jerked the steering wheel sharply, scraping against a car turning right with a bang.
He stubbed out his cigarette, then angrily pounded the steering wheel with both hands, his emotions running high.
The car that collided with him was also in violation of regulations, but if responsibility were to be determined, Zhou Qishen would inevitably bear some responsibility. The driver was banging and gesturing at the window, his menacing demeanor intimidating. Zhou Qishen ignored him, neither opening the window nor offering any opinion, and lit another cigarette while sitting in the car.
As more and more people gathered to watch, his attitude, which had been reasonable, became unreasonable.
The car headlights were still on, their shimmering light reflecting off the faces of those people, amidst the dust and spittle. Their expressions were a jumbled mess, some ferocious, some mocking, some angry.
Zhou Qishen stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette, shifted into reverse, the navigation light came on, and the car started to reverse.
The other driver thought he was leaving, so he blocked the car and pounded on the hood with his hand.
Zhou Qishen remained calm, stopped the car, and shifted gears.
Someone realized what was happening and screamed, "He's going to hit you!!"
The driver was so frightened that he backed away. Zhou Qishen's eyes were empty yet sharp; he was truly intent on killing him.
Just then, a figure in a white dress pushed through the crowd and waved to him. Zhao Xiyin panicked. She had just come out of Hujialou subway station and hadn't intended to watch the commotion when she passed by. She had just casually turned her head to look, and that Land Rover looked all too familiar.
Zhou Qishen was startled and quickly pulled his foot off the accelerator.
After much persuasion, Zhao Xiyin managed to calm the man down a bit. She walked over and knocked on the window, unlocking the car. Zhao Xiyin got into the passenger seat, both angry and anxious, "What's wrong with you? Aren't you afraid of getting yourself into trouble? Why did you have to make such a mess of things?"
Seeing that he didn't speak, Zhao Xiyin couldn't help but raise her voice, "Are you out of your mind?"
She looked down and froze. Zhou Qishen's leg wound had reopened at some point, and his white trousers were covered in blood.
Zhou Qishen suddenly turned his head, his eyes as deep as the sea, as if he wanted to suck her in and let her see her internal organs.
It's not that she's reckless; she was already dead the day she abandoned him.
Seeing his condition, Zhao Xiyin softened her attitude and became more urgent: "You, you're injured, does it hurt? Where else are you hurt? Don't move, don't move, do you have a first-aid kit in your car?"
With a throbbing pain in his temples, Zhou Qishen forced a low groan as he endured the intense headache: "Xiao west, it hurts."
Chapter 10 The Madman's Wish (2)
Madman's Wish (2)
Blood kept flowing down his leg, and in the dim light inside the car, it looked a deep, purplish-red.
Zhou Qishen had been traveling back and forth between Beijing and Xi'an in a single day, encountering one troublesome thing after another, and looked pale and exhausted. Zhao Xiyin took out her phone, "I'll call a car, you go to the hospital first."
Zhou Qishen raised his hand slightly, pressed down on her arm, and released it after a second. "Someone will handle it."
His secretary, Xu Jin, arrived quickly, stepping out of the Audi with a phone in hand, exuding her ever-calm and composed demeanor. Zhou Qishen helped Zhao Xiyin out of the car, switched to the Audi, and gently pushed her into the driver's seat, saying, "You drive."
Zhao Xiyin, concerned about his bleeding wound, didn't dare delay and headed to the nearest hospital.
Upon arriving at the hospital entrance, she unbuckled her seatbelt with a crisp "click," clearly maintaining a defined separation. The sound seemed to tell him that her earlier act of kindness was merely a small favor, with no ulterior motive.
She said, "You go ahead, I'll take a taxi back."
Zhou Qishen pressed the lock before she could, leaving no room for argument, "You can drive the car away."
The Audi Q7 was too big, and parking was already inconvenient in her neighborhood, so Zhao Xiyin really had no intention of buying one. But she had seen Zhou Qishen's persistent side before, and she couldn't persuade him otherwise.
She agreed, "Okay, I'll park it downstairs at your company tomorrow."
Zhou Qishen watched the taillights flash by the street corner before casually entering the emergency room. His bleeding wound was from the fight with Meng Weixi that night; he hadn't paid much attention to it after a busy day, but now the doctor noticed it was sticking to his pants. The pain wasn't a big deal, but the doctor insisted he get an IV drip for inflammation, saying the hot weather made it easy for the wound to get infected.
An hour later, Gu Heping and Lao Cheng arrived at the emergency room.
"What's wrong with you? You haven't been to the hospital in ages. Are you feeling weak today?" Gu Heping relentlessly teased him.
Zhou Qishen gestured with his chin toward Lao Cheng, "Gag him, and I'll give Xiao Zhao a 10,000 yuan red envelope."