Chapter 49 — Come Find Me Tomorrow

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Feeling the warmth of Guan Xin's hand, little Wei Zhao could not help but lift his head. Guan Xin, who had accidentally brushed against Wei Zhao just now, was so embarrassed that she lowered her head without quite meaning to, afraid that Wei Zhao would see the color in her face. So at this moment her head was pressed very low, and the result... was tragedy...

At the very same instant that little Wei Zhao rose up proudly, he poked her straight on the tip of the nose...

"Ah!" Guan Xin could hold back no longer and let out a cry of alarm, springing to her feet in an instant. But by now she was already so ashamed that she could not raise her head...

Watching Guan Xin's reaction, Wei Zhao for a moment felt rather helpless, thinking to himself: Who told you to touch "him"? But since it had already happened, he had no choice but to say awkwardly, "I'm sorry... I got a little carried away..."

Hearing Wei Zhao apologize to her first, Guan Xin actually felt a little guilty. Truth be told, Guan Xin knew perfectly well that Wei Zhao had been quite well-behaved at first, and only after her own accidental touch had his body reacted. When you came right down to it, she was the one who should be blamed.

"It's not your fault... As a nurse, I shouldn't mind about such things; it's my own thoughts that were a little impure..." Guan Xin hastened to explain. Had it been anyone else, Guan Xin would most likely never have been so gracious — she would have slapped him long ago. But Wei Zhao was different; he was her savior, and Guan Xin felt instinctively full of guilt over the bullet he had taken, believing that he had been shot because of her — and that was why she was so gentle with him now.

"He... it's all right now..." Wei Zhao pointed rather self-mockingly at his lower body, then said awkwardly, "We can carry on..."

"Mm..." Guan Xin nodded, and setting aside the earlier embarrassment, she carefully began to change his dressing for him.

"Tss..." The gauze had stuck to part of the wound, and the tearing sensation made Wei Zhao clench his teeth.

"The wound is healing beautifully — I can hardly believe it was only operated on yesterday." Guan Xin looked at the wound on Wei Zhao's leg with some surprise.

"Mm, my skin heals well together," Wei Zhao explained. There was no way he could say it was because he cultivated the Xuanyuan Dragon-Taming Art.

Once the dressing had been changed, both their faces were a little awkward. In the end it was Guan Xin who laughed generously. "Come back in three days to have it changed again — just come find me directly."

"Mm..." Wei Zhao nodded, and made his escape from the surgical treatment room. Only after he had run all the way downstairs did he breathe a sigh of relief. What a humiliating day this had been.

Uncle Qing had been waiting in the car for Wei Zhao all this while. Wei Zhao had not let him come up earlier, since he could get around perfectly well on his own — he had no wish to put Uncle Qing to the trouble.

"All done with the dressing change?" Seeing Wei Zhao come out of the hospital, Uncle Qing opened the car door and asked.

"Mm, all done." Wei Zhao nodded. "But I still have to come tomorrow to have it changed, and then see how the wound is healing — it ought to be fine to come every other day."

In truth, Guan Xin had meant to say that she happened to have tomorrow off, and wanted Wei Zhao to come the day after; but she worried the wound might change again, so she told him to see how the healing went first.

Wei Zhao thought of the awkwardness of the dressing change just now, and truly did not dare come a second time. This feeling of being able to look but not touch was really not much good.

"I got in touch with Mr. Gu and told him what happened yesterday," Uncle Qing said to Wei Zhao as he started the car.

"What did Mr. Gu say?" Wei Zhao asked at once.

"Mr. Gu said he would come back at once, and that everything should wait until he returns," Uncle Qing said. "But he also said he has a vague guess as to who was behind this."

"Oh?" Wei Zhao was taken aback. He had not expected Gu Pengzhan to be so astute as to guess, so quickly, who the black hand behind it was.

The morning rush hour was over now, and the traffic on the road had thinned again. Very soon Uncle Qing drove the car to the gate of No. 1 City Middle School. Wei Zhao got out and waved to Uncle Qing.

Wei Zhao slung his schoolbag over his shoulder and stepped through the gates of No. 1 Middle School. The playing field was empty at this hour, save for a few students playing basketball — clearly the sort of delinquents who did not often attend class.

Thump — a basketball rolled in Wei Zhao's direction.

"Hey, kid, throw the ball over here," a long-haired student in black called out to Wei Zhao.

Wei Zhao was in a hurry to get to class — where would he find the time to pick up a ball for anyone? Besides, the basketball hadn't come to rest right at his feet; it was still some distance away.

"Damn brat, I'm talking to you — are you deaf?" Zou Ruoming was instantly annoyed. In this school, was there any student who dared ignore him?

Wei Zhao heard Zou Ruoming's cursing, and his brow knit slightly. He had never known who his parents were, not since he was small, but hearing that kind of insult still put him in a foul mood.

Wei Zhao slowly turned around and looked at Zou Ruoming. He pointed at him, then at himself — meaning, are you talking about me?

"Yes, you — what, are you deaf? I'll count to three. Throw the ball over here right now and we'll forget all about it. Otherwise, I'll damn well make sure you can't stay in this school." One look at Wei Zhao's clothes and Zou Ruoming knew he was just some poor student, so he spoke without the slightest restraint.

Wei Zhao said nothing. He walked straight toward where the basketball had rolled, bent down, and picked it up.

The pack of lackeys around Zou Ruoming let out a chorus of cheers. Zou Ruoming thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of others submitting at his feet; this sense of being the school's bully was deeply satisfying to him.

"Brother Ming's got real authority — one word, and that kid goes crawling to pick up the ball, and after being cursed out he doesn't dare squeak a peep," one of Zou Ruoming's hangers-on praised sycophantically.

"Hmph, just some poor student," Zou Ruoming said smugly. "In this school, the person who dares cross Zou Ruoming hasn't even been born yet."

Wei Zhao stood up, cradled the basketball, and turned toward Zou Ruoming. Zou Ruoming struck a pose ready to catch, gesturing for Wei Zhao to toss the ball over.

Looking at Zou Ruoming's preening attitude, the corner of Wei Zhao's mouth curved ever so slightly. He raised his hand suddenly, and the basketball flew from his grip, hurtling toward Zou Ruoming.

Of course, Zou Ruoming had no idea that danger was closing in on him. He was still striking that cocky catching pose, both hands held out in front of him, ready to receive Wei Zhao's throw.

Thump — the basketball slammed into Zou Ruoming's hands. At first, Zou Ruoming was secretly pleased with himself for catching the ball from such a distance, and the pack of lackeys around him all let out cheering, fawning cries: "Brother Ming's so cool — he's like a new Jordan!"

Zou Ruoming was just about to say "Damn right" — but before he could get the words out, he sensed something was wrong. The basketball struck his hands and showed no sign of stopping at all. He felt as if what had hit his hands was no basketball at all, but a shot put.