Shen Zimo, pale and gasping for breath, thanked him, “Thank you, I… I was really scared. If it weren’t for you, I don’t know what they would’ve done to me.”

Cheng Ji thought to himself, They wouldn’t have done much—just taken you back to keep you around for love. They just wouldn’t let you leave.

What he didn’t realize was that ever since he had forcibly derailed the plot, Qi Beisong wasn’t capturing Shen Zimo for that reason anymore. Instead, it was to lure out the “snake,” and that snake was, of course, Mr. Cheng.

“Change clothes,” Cheng Ji said, pulling off his down jacket while running.

“Huh?” Shen Zimo didn’t understand.

“You wear mine; I’ll wear yours. This way, they won’t recognize you while you’re escaping. There are cameras everywhere, and your light-colored coat is too eye-catching on surveillance compared to mine,” Cheng Ji explained.

“They can actually see police surveillance?”

Cheng Ji said, “Some people can not only access surveillance but even dig up your ancestors from their graves.”

Shen Zimo said, “I’m an orphan. I don’t have ancestors.”

“It’s just an example. And anyway, disturbing dead ancestors is still better than messing with you, the living,” Cheng Ji replied, a little annoyed.

He was already in so much pain that his body felt like it was falling apart, and now he had to run around babysitting Shen Zimo. It felt like he owed him something from a past life.

“What should I do now?” Shen Zimo asked.

“Do you have money on you?” Cheng Ji asked.

“A little.”

“I mean cash.”

“I have a few hundred.”

While running, Cheng Ji pulled out his wallet, took out four or five hundred-yuan bills, and handed them to Shen Zimo.

“This is all I’ve got. Now, take a cab to the bus station and buy a short-distance bus ticket. Short-distance tickets don’t require ID, so you can safely leave no trace.”

“Buy tickets for the most remote towns you can think of. You can buy them one leg at a time until you feel safe. When you reach your destination, find a small inn to stay in for at least five days. Don’t go out, don’t contact friends, keep your phone off or in airplane mode, don’t use a computer, buy everything in cash, don’t use credit cards, don’t use payment apps, and don’t go to internet cafes or similar places.”

“If nothing happens after five days, you can try coming back.”

“Why five days?” Shen Zimo asked.

“Because someone like Qi, if he hasn’t found you in five days, it means he’s decided to give up,” Cheng Ji explained.

“And if he’s still looking for me after five days?”

“Then I’ll hand myself over,” Cheng Ji said. “Don’t worry. That bastard’s main grudge is with me. Once I show up, you’ll be relatively safe.”

Shen Zimo stopped in his tracks and asked, “Why… why are you helping me like this?”

Cheng Ji replied, “No reason.”

Shen Zimo stared at him and said, “Thank you. I mean it—thank you so much. If it weren’t for you, I’d…”

“Just go already,” Cheng Ji said. “Once you’re clear of that bastard, you’ll have all the time in the world to thank me.”

Shen Zimo started running again, and Cheng Ji accompanied him for a short distance. When he saw the alleyway’s exit ahead, he stopped and said, “You go on. I need to head back.”

“Why are you going back?” Shen Zimo asked, surprised.

“My mom is still in that hospital. I need to handle her transfer paperwork today,” Cheng Ji explained.

“But—”

“You’re a grown man. Do I need to hold your hand and teach you how to run away?” Cheng Ji asked.

Shen Zimo lowered his head and said, “No.”

Suddenly, he added, “Can I ask you something? Don’t get mad. Are you… an escaped convict?”

Cheng Ji burst into laughter. “Yeah, yeah, I’m an escaped convict. Looks pretty professional, right? Now, hurry up and get going!”

He clapped his hands twice, urging Shen Zimo. The latter hesitated but then turned and ran, still glancing back repeatedly.

Cheng Ji watched him until his figure disappeared before slowly turning around and walking toward the alleyway exit.

He wasn’t in any hurry now. The blaring police sirens around him felt oddly soothing.

That Bentley, along with its owner, Qi Beisong, and his two bodyguards, would all be taken in for questioning by the police. Even if the misunderstanding was cleared up quickly, the process would still take at least half a day.

With Qi Beisong’s status in Hongcheng, he essentially held a get-out-of-jail-free card. But counterterrorism and bomb disposal teams had their own protocols. Even if they knew the car belonged to the famous Qi family and that the bomb threat was a false alarm, they would still thoroughly inspect every inch of that vehicle.

So, despite Qi Beisong’s vast influence, he wouldn’t have time to bother Cheng Ji today, giving him enough time to handle his mother’s transfer properly.

Cheng Ji walked out of the alley, moving against the flow of the crowd. Despite knowing he had wasted police resources, he couldn’t help but feel delighted.

Then he remembered that romantic little hand-holding moment with the young man.

“Well…”

Anyway, young people have long lives ahead of them. Losing a day wouldn’t hurt.

Hospital, a community palliative care facility—walking through its doors meant a patient’s life was being measured in days.

The patients staying here live anywhere from a little over a month to less than two days.

Ms. Cheng was assigned to a bed by the window. There was another elderly, critically ill patient in the same room, and the surroundings were quiet.

The patients were always silent, but the family members, doctors, nurses, and caregivers here seemed more relaxed than in an ordinary hospital. Everyone knew their role wasn’t to treat but to provide palliative care, to ease suffering.

Ms. Cheng was carried off the ambulance with the same tubes in place, but some of the expensive medications were no longer necessary.

Cheng Ji settled her in, then curled up on an empty hospital bed for a light nap. His heart felt soft and calm. Though tired, he was more relieved than anything. It felt like wrapping up an arduous field mission—his body sore and weak as he returned to the office, flopped onto a steel-framed cot, stretched out, and let out a long sigh of relief.

The thought of Qi Beisong desperately explaining that he wasn’t a terrorist almost made Cheng Ji laugh out loud.

But there were still worries—like running out of money.

Wandering through Changkang Hospital in frustration, he spotted a notice for caregiver recruitment and went over to take a look. The deputy director in charge of HR, a woman surnamed Zhang, flatly refused him, smiling as she said, “This isn’t for you.”

“Why not?” Cheng Ji asked.

“These patients are all bedridden, unable to care for themselves, many without consciousness. Caregivers have to turn them over, bathe them, feed them, give them water, and even handle their waste. Can you really do all that?”

“Let me give it a try,” Cheng Ji replied.

“Forget it. Don’t put yourself through that. Just go back to school,” said Deputy Director Zhang.

Cheng Ji said, “I have no school to return to. I dropped out when my mom got sick.”

Sympathy flashed across Deputy Director Zhang’s face. “If you’re really looking for work, my cousin’s shop needs someone.”

“What kind of shop?”

“A noodle shop. Can you hand-pull noodles?”

Cheng Ji couldn’t hand-pull noodles, but he could spin a tale.

“Are you really out of money?” Zhang asked.

Cheng Ji shook his head. “To be honest, I can barely afford food anymore. I still owe over 20,000 yuan to the Fourth People’s Hospital. This morning, transferring my mom here cost another 3,000 for the hospital deposit. In a couple of days, I might have to sell a kidney.”

Zhang laughed. “No need to sell a kidney. You can owe the hospital here for now. Palliative care doesn’t cost much anyway. I’ll refund 2,000 of your deposit. Use it for food.”

Cheng Ji widened his eyes. “You’re so kind!”

Zhang replied, “Dr. Zhu from the Fourth Hospital already filled me in on your situation. He also said you’re stubborn—helping you requires handling your emotions carefully. But you don’t seem stubborn to me; you’re quite straightforward.”

Cheng Ji spat playfully. “Me, stubborn? I’d love for the whole world to lend me a hand. I’d even kneel to thank you!”

“No need for that!” Zhang laughed heartily. “My son’s older than you. I’ll just think of it as helping out a nephew.”

Cheng Ji quipped, “Thank you so much!”

“Stay back!” Zhang warned with mock vigilance. “This old auntie is over fifty and has no interest in getting entangled with a handsome young man in his twenties.”

Cheng Ji bowed theatrically in thanks.

After his run-in with Qi Beisong’s group, Cheng Ji thought he might get three days of peace, but it turned out he only got one night.

The next morning, he woke up feeling weak, his temples throbbing. At first, he didn’t pay much attention, but later he realized he had a fever. He didn’t need to guess where it came from—his left side, the injury there.

It was just a small wound, slightly swollen but not festering—hardly enough to take someone down. The blame lay on the bone-chilling weather or the chaos of the past few days, which had shattered his already fragile immune system.

With no other options, he sat on the bed, chewing on two anti-inflammatory pills while rubbing his sore back.

Around 7:30, he went to a nearby diner for breakfast. On his way back, he noticed the “plague god” had come for him again. This time, Qi Beisong brought more people—enough for a small combat unit.

Qi Beisong seemed like someone accustomed to nightlife, the type who wouldn’t sleep until past midnight. Yet, in his quest for revenge, he had managed to go to bed early and wake up early for two consecutive days—a truly touching display of dedication.

This time, he didn’t bring his black Bentley. Instead, four identical Range Rovers rolled up, each seemingly modified. The cars were equipped with enormous xenon headlights resembling cannon barrels, startling pedestrians as they parked.

His six bodyguards, dressed in black trench coats, lined up at the entrance of Changkang Hospital. Each one was built like a brick wall and glared menacingly at anyone entering or leaving the hospital. Though they didn’t move or speak, their presence severely disrupted the hospital’s normal operations.

Changkang Hospital was just a small community facility, its premises repurposed from an old street factory. Including its administrative and support areas, the hospital only had three floors and fewer than 80 beds. It wasn’t equipped to handle the likes of Qi Beisong’s entourage. On the spot, seven or eight medical staff were visibly flustered.

Cheng Ji watched as Deputy Director Zhang—the one who had offered him a job at a noodle shop—walked out, bewildered, to negotiate with the bodyguards. However, they ignored her completely, and some even coldly told her to mind her own business.

Cheng Ji gritted his teeth in anger, thinking, What kind of attitude is this? She’s old enough to be your mother, and you dare treat her like this? Once I learn to pull noodles, I’ll throw every one of you into a boiling pot until you learn some manners.

But worse was yet to come—Qi Beisong had stationed himself right by Ms. Cheng’s bedside.

The man had changed his outfit, now wearing a turtleneck cashmere sweater under a leather jacket. He sat confidently on a simple folding chair, arms crossed, his thick brows furrowed as he leaned in to scrutinize Ms. Cheng.

Fortunately, Ms. Cheng was unconscious and remained still, unbothered by his intimidating presence.

Cheng Ji noticed the bruising on Qi Beisong’s lips had subsided slightly and prayed silently, Heaven help this man forget his grudges and move on, or this will be the death of me.

He scouted the area several times but couldn’t find a way to approach Ms. Cheng’s room. Left with no other options, he lingered on the hospital’s outskirts.

The hospital had a small yard outside, poorly maintained since the terminally ill patients weren’t likely to take strolls. In a corner of the yard stood a tiny grove of camphor trees, no more than 20 or 30 in total. Cheng Ji hid among them, brooding.

He didn’t like smoking, but in moments of frustration, he couldn’t help it. He crouched there, chain-smoking one cigarette after another.

Meanwhile, Qi Beisong’s side was getting interesting. The man had figured out how to win over the crowd. After observing Ms. Cheng for a while, he began flashing smiles at everyone passing through the entrance.

That bastard was disgustingly handsome. Before long, a crowd of young nurses and doctors gathered at the door, all overly excited. They eagerly answered every question he asked, spilling information like beans from a tipped-over jar, as if afraid of saying too little.

“Who is this woman?” Qi Beisong asked.

“She’s Cheng Yufang,” one young nurse replied. “She just transferred from the Fourth People’s Hospital. She hasn’t woken up since undergoing brain tumor surgery.”

“Oh, that’s terrible,” Qi Beisong said.

“It is,” the nurse agreed. “She’s barely holding on with some independent breathing, but if she doesn’t wake up soon, her organs will start to fail in a few days.”

“How much time does she have?” Qi Beisong asked.

“It’s hard to say,” the nurse said thoughtfully. “Sometimes patients can last ten days to two weeks; other times, it’s just overnight.”

“Does she have a son?” Qi Beisong asked.

The nurse looked surprised. “How did you know? Yes, she has a son. He was just here.”

“He was just here?” Qi Beisong’s eyes lit up.

“Yes, about half an hour ago. I saw him leave,” the nurse said.

“What’s her son like?” Qi Beisong asked.

“He’s very good-looking,” the nurse said with a smile. “A delicate, quiet boy. Very polite.”

“Oh, I see,” Qi Beisong said, nodding. “Does he know how to fight?”

The nurse burst out laughing. “Fight? I doubt he even knows how to argue.”

Qi Beisong nodded again, grinding his molars. Sure, he doesn’t know how to argue, he thought. But he knows how to climb walls, throw punches, kidnap people, strip them, take nude photos, file false police reports, and hijack cars.