Their voices faded into the distance, and Pei Yusheng no longer heard them. Following a landscaped path, he soon reached the rear gate, which should have been guarded by the Shanhai estate’s security—but now it was wide open, empty, only the flashing red and blue lights of police cars visible.
Pei Yusheng didn’t go straight to the rear exit. Instead, he veered along a small path toward a secluded corner, where a small plaza held a black vehicle.
Next to the car stood a young man with silver-rimmed glasses—Zhao Mingzhen from Huashan Hospital. Seeing Pei Yusheng approach, Dr. Zhao hurried to open the rear door.
Pei Yusheng strode over, bent, and carefully placed the boy onto the soft backseat, supporting the back of his neck with one hand to lay him down gently.
Just as Dr. Zhao brought over the medical kit, Pei Yusheng said, “Watch him closely.”
When he looked up again, the man was gone.
Dr. Zhao slid into the backseat, gently lifting the coat that still covered half of Qi Ji’s face and placing it over him properly, while positioning a soft pillow behind his neck.
Qi Ji’s eyes were closed. A vivid flush ran from the tips of his ears down the side of his neck to his chest, visible even through the translucent thin fabric. His face, however, was pale—almost translucent—with dark circles rimmed in red, and dried blood on his lips like cracks in a delicate, ruby-hued glass, ready to shatter at the slightest touch.
The boy’s body trembled involuntarily, and his condition looked dire. Dr. Zhao had heard from Pei Yusheng’s comm device that Qi Ji had been drugged for an extended period, this time with an increased dose—he was bound to be uncomfortable.
Putting on gloves brought from the hospital, Dr. Zhao reached to examine the boy. As soon as his hand neared Qi Ji’s neck, the boy flinched sharply and turned his head, clearly resisting.
Dr. Zhao froze. He knew Qi Ji didn’t want to be touched, yet his ungloved left hand, resting on the boy’s waist, had received no strong reaction.
He withdrew his right hand, frowned at his palm, then looked back at Qi Ji. Once the right hand moved away, the boy stopped forcibly turning his head. He had no strength left; all movements were instinctual.
Dr. Zhao sniffed near his nose—the smell of rubber mixed with hospital disinfectant. Thinking it over, he removed the gloves, layered a thin fabric over his fingers, and gently touched Qi Ji’s neck again. The boy squirmed, still uncomfortable, but noticeably less than before.
Using the thin layer of fabric as a buffer, Dr. Zhao finally managed to examine Qi Ji.
The boy’s condition was visibly poor: high fever, night sweats, labored breathing, and irregular heartbeat. Dr. Zhao pulled out a disposable syringe and several glass vials of liquid medication from the car’s portable cooler, ready to administer an injection.
This time he couldn’t inject through the fabric. As he reached for the boy’s collar, Qi Ji shivered, furrowed his brow, instinctively curling up.
Dr. Zhao frowned and called to the driver outside, “Xu, come help. Hold him, but don’t press directly on his skin—just where his clothes provide coverage.”
The driver leaned in and gently restrained Qi Ji. Dr. Zhao primed the syringe and carefully opened the thin fabric at the boy’s shoulder, piercing the skin with precision.
“Uh…”
The boy let out a faint nasal whine, restrained and in pain. Dr. Zhao pushed through, finishing the injection before allowing the driver to release him.
Qi Ji struggled weakly, turning his head sideways, exhausted beyond protest. Even so, he stubbornly buried his face back into the inner folds of the coat.
Dr. Zhao worried about oxygen intake and shifted the coat near his nose slightly, but Qi Ji again squirmed, pressing his face deeper into the fabric.
Dr. Zhao had no choice but to stop. Fortunately, the coat wasn’t leather, so he could still breathe.
The injection worked quickly; the boy’s rapid breathing began to ease. Dr. Zhao checked his temperature again—it remained high.
High fevers risk dehydration, and the drug-induced heat was no different. Dr. Zhao asked the driver, “Xu, is there warm water in the car?”
“Yes, Dr. Zhao. In the onboard cooler to your right.”
Dr. Zhao retrieved a bottle; it was the right temperature, though the opening was wide. He went to the trunk for a cup. Just as he closed it, stumbling footsteps and a string of curses came from a few meters away:
“Pei Yusheng! You damn idiot—”
“Bang!”
A loud crash cut the shouting short; the off-road vehicle jolted, startling Dr. Zhao.
Circling to the other side, he saw Pei Yusheng had slammed someone against the car door, the person’s head hitting solidly with a sickening thud. The victim was dazed, unable to continue shouting, let alone scream.
The light fell on the man’s face—familiar to Dr. Zhao. He realized a beat too late: it was Jiang Shao, the Shanhai estate owner.
Pei Yusheng stood before him, expressionless and cold. Looking up, his gaze was so sharp it sent a chill down Dr. Zhao’s spine.
The man’s voice was low. “How is he?”
Dr. Zhao replied, “He got an injection—no immediate danger. But the drugs are strong; we don’t know the aftereffects yet.”
Pei Yusheng glanced down at the slumped Jiang Shao.
Backlit by the night, the darkness cast an icy shadow over his sharp features. His true expression was unreadable, yet the dangerous aura around him was palpable.
He turned to the driver: “Close the windows.”
Windows and doors were sealed, the car’s high-quality interior now fully isolating any outside noise.
Jiang Shao, bruised and dazed, had barely recovered when Pei Yusheng’s voice cut through.
“What drugs did you use on him?”
Jiang Shao’s vision still doubled; he managed a bitter, mocking laugh.
“Drugs? What drugs? The finest, worth a fortune. You think I wouldn’t have drugged him if I wanted to block you?”
Pei Yusheng’s gaze remained unmoved, calm, almost eerily serene.
“I asked—what did you use on him?”
Jiang Shao laughed hoarsely, the sound rough from the earlier impact.
“Pei Yusheng, you really wanted that brat, huh? Just to fight me to the end? Dammit, it’s just a born-for-sale toy—I should’ve known…”
“Crack!”
A sharp snap cut his words short. Pei Yusheng had kicked Jiang Shao’s leg, breaking it.
“Ahhh—!!”
The scream pierced the plaza. The leg bent at an unnatural angle, the lower and upper parts forming a blunt, inverted angle.
Jiang Shao sweat cold from the pain, his thighs scratched by his own hands, breathing ragged but still defiant. His eyes glared at Pei Yusheng, veins throbbing with hatred and agony.
“You… you dare… do this to me? Cough… cough, I’ll tell you, Pei Yusheng, the Jiang family will never let you off… I will… cough… grind you to dust…”
Pei Yusheng’s expression remained completely unmoved, his eyes coldly fixed on the utterly disheveled yet unrepentant Jiang Shao.
“No need to wait for the Jiang family,” Pei Yusheng said calmly, his tone almost like delivering a business analysis. “Jiang Duo, you know I spent three years in the special forces. I have plenty of ways to make people talk. Do you want me to try them all?”
Dr. Zhao finally poured warm water into the soft silicone bottle with a straw. Taking advantage of the relatively quiet moment outside the car, he slightly opened the other door and got into the backseat.
The windows and doors were tightly shut, providing excellent soundproofing. Only faint, distant screams could be heard, which didn’t disturb the sleeping Qi Ji.
Dr. Zhao lowered his head to feed him. The soft silicone bottle worked perfectly—one squeeze, and the water flowed through the straw directly into the boy’s mouth, avoiding unnecessary physical contact. He carefully fed him about half the bottle until the boy refused to swallow and began turning his head back into the coat, at which point he withdrew the bottle.
As soon as the bottle was put away, Dr. Zhao noticed Pei Yusheng outside giving him a hand signal, seemingly calling him out.
Dr. Zhao froze for a moment, puzzled, pointing to himself.
Aren’t the car windows one-way? Could Pei Yusheng really see inside?
Yet Pei Yusheng nodded once.
Dr. Zhao got out, still uncertain, only to see Jiang Shao trembling nearby.
His voice hoarse, Jiang Shao pleaded and tried to explain, “It’s just an aphrodisiac, no side effects. Women can take it just fine—it’s harmless. Really… it won’t hurt anyone…”
Jiang Shao now looked like a completely different man from the arrogant bully from moments ago—clearly terrified. Dr. Zhao had assumed it would take some time to handle him, but apparently, Pei Yusheng had already resolved it in less than ten minutes, even with only a short stop to give Qi Ji water.
Observing Jiang Shao professionally, Dr. Zhao noted that apart from the leg still bent at an unnatural angle, there were no visible serious injuries. However, his spirit had completely collapsed; the arrogance was gone, his eyes dull, showing fear whenever they accidentally met Pei Yusheng’s gaze.
Jiang Shao kept mumbling, “There’s nothing left, I only know a little about the ingredients… I never studied pharmaceuticals… the managers handled it all…”
Pei Yusheng’s single hand rested in his pocket, expressionless. He only glanced at Dr. Zhao.
Dr. Zhao quickly recorded the drug names. Jiang Shao stammered, lacking medical knowledge, so he had to piece together the correct names as best he could.
As he recorded, his brow furrowed. The substances Jiang Shao mentioned—daturine, dimethylphentermine, bemig…—were not hormones but psychoactive drugs.
Once he finished noting the ingredients, Jiang Shao was questioned about the drug source. Terrified, he spilled all the details, including critical supply information.
Dr. Zhao scribbled frantically, amazed. Then, Pei Yusheng kicked Jiang Shao squarely in the chest, knocking him unconscious.
The kick was ferocious. Pei Yusheng could have subdued him easily with a finger, yet he delivered it with full force—clearly taking out his frustration.
Dr. Zhao closed his notebook, glancing at the dirtied, disheveled Jiang Shao—no trace of his usual polished self remained.
Though Jiang Shao had long dominated S City, Pei Yusheng, barely in town a few days, had already exacted severe revenge. Dr. Zhao had no reason to consider the political repercussions.
He snapped back to reality when Pei Yusheng instructed the driver, “Take him to the secured scene in the east district and hand him over to the highest-ranking officer. Quick in, quick out.”
The driver acknowledged, lifting the unconscious Jiang Shao onto his shoulder. Dr. Zhao was surprised; the man was fully grown and completely limp. Xu, the driver, looked unassuming, yet effortlessly carried him. No wonder Pei Yusheng had come alone to the Jiang family’s territory.
Back at the car, Dr. Zhao quietly opened the door to reveal a small light-brown head and the corner of a gray coat.
Pei Yusheng’s chest rose and fell slightly.
Only now did his expression soften a fraction, no longer as rigid as before.
Dr. Zhao quietly explained, “That injection had a sedative effect. He’s asleep now.”
Pei Yusheng propped himself against the roof, leaning in to look.
Qi Ji curled inside the coat, lying on his side, only revealing a pale, delicate chin and a small pink ear flushed from the fever.
Though asleep, he remained lightly aware of his surroundings—earlier, he had resisted Dr. Zhao trying to adjust his coat.
Now, Pei Yusheng bent down silently, exhaling shallow breaths. Qi Ji seemed to sense the change, moving slightly with his eyes closed.
He remained highly resistant to touch, yet surprisingly, he did not retreat further into the coat.
As if detecting a comforting presence, he gradually shifted outward, no longer pressing his nose into the fabric.
More of his side profile was revealed, delicate and soft, as if he had found a new refuge and finally allowed himself to relax.
Pei Yusheng watched silently, his pale eyes unreadable.
The night air was cool; the doors couldn’t stay open. Once assured of the boy’s stable sleep, Pei Yusheng gently closed the door.
His expression remained stern, faintly cold—witnessing the boy’s temporary peace did little to soften him.
Dr. Zhao, aware that Pei Yusheng was still worried about the drug’s effects, tentatively asked, “Second Young Master, did that man say… it takes two months for this drug to wear off?”
Pei Yusheng’s gaze stayed fixed on the car window, watching the sleeping boy.
Even seeing Qi Ji within his sight, his expression was grim.
He spoke, voice low and icy: “Jiang Duo meant that anyone who takes this drug must spend two months to completely clear its effects. Less than that, and the craving persists.”
Dr. Zhao was slow to process, then his eyes widened in shock as he glanced at the boy now asleep inside the car.
The window obscured the view; he only saw his own stunned reflection.