Jiang Luo immediately turned to Huo Zongzuo: “Dad, look! He’s going to hit me.”
“Cut it out—don’t start with ‘Dad.’”
Accountant Xue made a dismissive gesture: “In your dreams. A young, capable ‘Dad’ like that? You really know how to flatter yourself.”
Jiang Luo glanced at Huo Zongzuo again: “Now you see the kind of people I have working at my company.”
Huo Zongzuo’s stern face finally softened a little. He knew Jiang Luo was teasing him on purpose, trying to make him relax.
So, Jiang Luo couldn’t go to the company or check on Zhang Ningfu. He was stuck in his private hospital room, obediently resting.
On the first day, news spread. People came to visit—colleagues from the factory and the company—but Huo Zongzuo didn’t want the constant comings and goings to disturb Jiang Luo’s rest.
Luckily, Jiang Luo’s injuries weren’t severe. He took his medicine, kept up with the IVs, and was cooperative. He didn’t give Huo Zongzuo any real cause for worry, so he didn’t prevent visitors.
Huo Zongzuo stayed in the hospital the entire time, even accompanying Jiang Luo through two nights.
On the first night, Jiang Luo tried to send him away, but Huo Zongzuo refused.
Jiang Luo scooted over, patting the bed to indicate he could lie down too.
Huo Zongzuo sat on the edge of the bed: “Don’t worry about me. Sleep.”
“Don’t be polite. We’ve slept together before,” Jiang Luo teased.
“Be careful with your arm. Don’t move recklessly,” Huo Zongzuo warned.
Jiang Luo, unable to sleep anyway, lay down and chatted: “When we got hit by the car, how did you feel?”
Huo Zongzuo just looked at him silently.
Jiang Luo animatedly: “Were you scared?”
Huo Zongzuo didn’t answer, asking: “You not tired?”
“I slept during the day,” Jiang Luo replied.
Huo Zongzuo shook his head, bewildered: “Hit by a car and you’re this calm?”
Jiang Luo shook his legs: “Survived the disaster, didn’t I?”
“Old saying: after disaster comes fortune.”
Huo Zongzuo couldn’t relax. “Weren’t you afraid?”
“Afterward, how did you feel?”
Jiang Luo honestly replied: he wasn’t afraid. Having died before, he knew what real death felt like.
He shook his legs again, thinking: “When the car came, I was startled, too busy reacting to be afraid. The car flipped, I was a bit dazed, just thinking about self-preservation. At the hospital, I thought: haha, survived.”
Huo Zongzuo heard this calm recounting, yet he still couldn’t relax.
He leaned over, tucked the blanket around Jiang Luo: “Sleep. Even if you can’t, close your eyes and rest.”
Jiang Luo peeked at him: “You’re really worried, aren’t you?”
They exchanged a look. Jiang Luo softened his voice: “It’s fine. I’m okay. Nothing happened. Don’t worry.”
“Should I sing for you?”
“Sleep. Shut up,” Jiang Luo replied, grinning at the gentle authority.
Jiang Luo then pleaded: “Read me a poem? I’ll fall asleep.”
“Really sleep?”
“Yeah.”
He closed his eyes.
Huo Zongzuo began softly: “Guan! Guan! Cry the ospreys, on the islets in the river. The modest, virtuous lady—one fit for a gentleman.”
Jiang Luo opened his eyes: “Not suitable?”
“I’m hospitalized; you listen anyway.”
“Close your eyes.”
“Fine,” Jiang Luo obediently shut them.
Huo Zongzuo switched to another: “Descendant of Emperor Gao Yang, my father called Bo Yong. Observing the stars at the start of Mengzhou, I was born in the Gengyin year…”
Jiang Luo: “I don’t understand a word. Are you speaking Chinese?”
“Close your mouth too.”
Jiang Luo nodded.
Huo Zongzuo changed again: “Red lotus fragrance fades, jade mat autumn. Lightly shedding silk robes, I board the orchid boat alone. Who sends a brocade letter through the clouds? When the geese return, the moon fills the western tower.”
Jiang Luo pretended to snore, faking sleep.
Huo Zongzuo reached out, patted his arm: “Fun?”
Jiang Luo laughed, eyes closed, then secretly peeked with one eye, still smiling.
Huo Zongzuo had no recourse—he gave in, letting him be.
“Want to chat?” he asked.
Jiang Luo: “When did you start doing business?”
“Sixteen,” Huo Zongzuo answered.
“Tell me how you made your fortune,” Jiang Luo pressed.
“Started out in rural Sucheng…”
Huo Zongzuo hardly slept the whole night, guarding Jiang Luo, only dozing a little at dawn.
In the morning, Jiang Luo woke just as Huo Zongzuo entered with a basin and towel.
“Wash your face,” he instructed.
Jiang Luo tried to sit up; Huo Zongzuo adjusted the pillow, helping him lean back.
Jiang Luo giggled: “Feels like taking care of a kid.”
Huo Zongzuo stayed expressionless, giving him a warm towel to wipe his face.
Jiang Luo teased: “Smile, don’t look so serious—I don’t owe you money.”
He buried his face in the towel, making little whimpering sounds like a puppy.
“Don’t be cheeky,” Huo Zongzuo said.
The towel removed, Jiang Luo’s fair, glowing skin and round dark eyes stared up like a little dog.
Xiao Gou asked: “Dad? What’s for breakfast? Any fried dough sticks?”
Huo Zongzuo’s heart softened even more.
The softer he felt, the stronger the urge to make Li Fengrui pay became.
In a rural warehouse, Li Fengrui was tied up, gagged, lying on his side.
Initially, he had tried to reason with his captors, but after having his tendons severed—cruelly tortured—he barely had the strength to think.
He lay helpless, half-dead, when he heard movement.
Opening his eyes, he saw black trousers and shoes, and a vague voice: “Boss Huo.”
Which Huo? Before he could register, pain shot through his leg, and he screamed in agony.
In front of him, Huo Zongzuo’s expression was icy, holding the iron rod he had just struck with.
Huo Zongzuo tossed the rod aside, cold as a hellish king, instructing a man nearby: “Until someone from the Li family comes, give him nothing but water.”
………………………………………………………………..
On the third day of Jiang Luo’s hospitalization, Huo Zongzuo’s expression finally relaxed slightly.
Alone in his room, bored, Jiang Luo began singing Pink Memories.
Seeing Huo Zongzuo’s gaze, he sang sweetly: “Cannot forget you, writing you in my diary, cannot forget you, still thinking of you, romantic summer and a romantic you, give me a pink memory~~~”
Huo Zongzuo’s heart softened at Jiang Luo’s playful teasing. His cold expression eased.
“Right?” Jiang Luo teased. “Come on, smile.”
Huo Zongzuo, powerless, finally let out a small smile.
Seeing this, Jiang Luo snapped his fingers in celebration: “Worth celebrating! Today we’ll have something special—lobster! It’s decided!”
“Not until you recover—you can’t eat that yet,” Huo Zongzuo warned.
Jiang Luo pouted: “I’ve been drinking bone broth two days in a row, and now I can’t eat?”
Huo Zongzuo’s calm, non-negotiable look was enough.
Jiang Luo immediately adopted a pleading, cute expression: “Dad~ Dad~”
Huo Zongzuo’s heart melted completely.
With his mindset perfect—staying obedient in bed, taking medicine, chatting with Huo Zongzuo, entertaining visitors—Jiang Luo mostly kept himself occupied.
But that evening, after three days without a shower, he couldn’t take it—he needed to wash. He smelled almost unbearable.
The international ward had a shower, but Huo Zongzuo, concerned, brought a basin of warm water, ready to sponge him down.
Jiang Luo got out of bed, putting on slippers, puzzled: “Am I doing it myself?”