“Go to the hospital.”
Three words, soft and featherlight, carrying a faint tremble, yet they landed like three stones cast into a deep pool, stirring ripple upon ripple in Ye Lan’s heart.
Ye Lan’s deep phoenix eyes snapped toward Mu Xi, and in those pupils that always brimmed with arrogance and the hunger for control, bewilderment was now clearly reflected.
How long had it been since she’d heard Mu Xi speak to her in that tone—one that was nearly a command, yet carried an insistence that brooked no argument?
Ever since she’d caged this fragile Liuli Doll at her side, she’d grown accustomed to her compliance, her endurance, her numbness, and even her hate-filled detachment.
But now, this little thing, at her most vulnerable moment, was commanding her to go to the hospital with such a worried look in her eyes?
Ye Lan’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly deeper, not from pain, but from the unfamiliar insistence in Mu Xi’s gaze—one that was infuriatingly, damnably stirring something in her chest.
Those clear eyes held none of the fear or numbness from before. Instead, they seemed veiled in a thin mist, faintly reflecting her own pale, weakened state, along with an urgency that even Mu Xi herself might not have realized.
Ye Lan’s forehead pressed against Mu Xi’s shoulder remained scorching hot, and her trembling seemed to intensify for a moment under the surge of emotion.
She instinctively tightened her grip on Mu Xi’s wrist, as if trying to confirm that this sudden defiance wasn’t a hallucination.
The Escort Team captain outside the door was still awaiting orders, and the air reeked of disinfectant mixed with blood, along with the heart-stopping fever radiating from Ye Lan.
“Master?” the captain’s voice rang out again, laced with urgency.
Ye Lan’s throat bobbed as her searing breath spilled across Mu Xi’s nape.
Her instinct was to refuse to leave, to not abandon the only embrace that granted her a moment of peace, to not cut short this rare initiative from Mu Xi.
But Mu Xi’s gaze—those clear, limpid eyes fixed on her—seemed to hold some strange power she couldn’t refuse. There was no calculation, no pretense in them, only a pure, almost stubborn insistence.
She released her vice-like grip on Mu Xi’s wrist, shifting instead to a gentle hold, as if afraid of crushing something precious.
A hoarse syllable squeezed past Ye Lan’s cracked lips:
“…Fine.”
She turned toward the door, her voice regaining a fraction of its usual authority despite her weakness: “Prepare for transport.”
The process of transfer was far more painstaking than expected.
The Escort Team members moved with swift, practiced precision, securing Ye Lan onto a specially designed stretcher with the utmost care, doing their best to avoid touching the wound on her back.
Throughout the entire process, the second floor of the Silent Language Building was suffocatingly tense, broken only by the faint clatter of equipment and hushed breathing.
Ye Lan lay on the stretcher, her face pale as paper, fine cold sweat beading on her forehead, yet those phoenix eyes never once left Mu Xi.
Her gaze carried an almost tangible warmth, locking onto Mu Xi with obsessive focus.
As if so long as Mu Xi remained within her line of sight, the searing pain and dizzying weakness could ease by even a fraction.
Mu Xi was permitted to walk alongside the stretcher.
She kept her eyes lowered, her long silver lashes concealing the turbulent emotions beneath.
Ye Lan’s stare pressed down on her like an invisible weight, yet also stirred something she couldn’t quite name.
She could feel the complex glances from the surrounding Escort Team members—probing, puzzled, and perhaps even tinged with hostility.
After all, in their eyes, she might well be the one responsible for their master’s critical injuries.
But Ye Lan’s gaze acted like an invisible barrier, sealing off those judgmental looks.
The stretcher was carried steadily down the stairs and loaded into the medical vehicle already waiting below.
The interior was spacious, with advanced medical instruments glowing with cold light, and several doctors and nurses in sterile gowns standing by.
The vehicle started and drove smoothly toward the highest-tier private hospital in Stone City.
This hospital had once belonged to Nan Qiao’s faction, but now it belonged to Ye Lan.
It boasted some of the finest medical resources and technology in the entire wasteland, with security measures at the highest level.
Upon arrival, everything proceeded with flawless order.
Ye Lan was brought directly into the most exclusive VIP Isolation Treatment Room, where a team of medical specialists immediately began a comprehensive examination.
A battery of precision instruments surrounded Ye Lan, humming softly.
Data refreshed across the screens in a steady stream, the atmosphere heavy.
Mu Xi was arranged to wait in the rest area outside the treatment room, and through a thick pane of one-way glass, she could see the bustling figures within.
Time crawled by, each second stretched to an unbearable length.
Finally, the attending physician stepped out, her expression grave, and approached the Escort Team captain and Mu Xi waiting outside.
“Her condition is more severe than our initial assessment.”
The doctor’s voice was low and professional. “The energy beam’s impact didn’t just cause extensive tissue damage to the back. The heat and radiant energy penetrated into deeper layers, even cauterizing some nerves. The fever and tremors are a combined result of acute inflammation and nerve damage. Fortunately, no vital organs were directly struck, but the subsequent treatment and recovery will require a considerable amount of time.”
The captain’s face darkened instantly.
The doctor continued, “We’ll begin debridement, infection control, and nerve repair immediately. As for the scarring on her back…” She paused, glancing at Ye Lan through the glass wall—eyes still closed but clearly not unconscious—before turning back to Mu Xi and the captain. “With the latest Biological Repair Technology available at this hospital, we have over ninety percent confidence in completely removing the scar without leaving any trace. This would also be beneficial for recovery, preventing potential tissue adhesion and nerve traction pain.”
Remove the scar. Leave no trace.
For any woman who cared about her appearance, this was unquestionably the best option.
More so, given how gruesome and hideous that scar was—a symbol of a brush with death.
However, before the captain could respond, Ye Lan, who had been resting with her eyes shut inside the treatment room, suddenly opened them.
Her gaze pierced through the glass and landed precisely on Mu Xi. Her voice, though weak, carried an unyielding arrogance and finality:
“No need.”
The doctor and the captain both froze.
Ye Lan’s stare remained fixed on Mu Xi’s face, and a faint, almost obsessive smile curled at the corner of her pale lips:
“This wound was left protecting you.”
Her voice wasn’t loud, but it carried clearly to the other side. “It’s my medal, Ye Lan’s medal. Why should I remove it?”
The pride in her tone, the scorching heat in her eyes—as if this life-threatening wound were truly some glorious honor to be boasted of.
She seemed to be trying, once again, to prove something to Mu Xi. Or rather, to bind her with it.
Mu Xi’s heart jolted violently.
A medal?
She stared at the woman beyond the glass, pale yet still radiating dominance, and unbidden, that shredded, bloodied back surfaced in her mind.
That wasn’t a medal. It was pain, the specter of death, an ugly mark left by brute force.
An inexplicable emotion surged through her, drowning out all hesitation and timidity.
Mu Xi’s voice was soft—even gentler than it had been at the Silent Language Building—but every word rang out with crystal clarity, carrying a resolve never seen before.
“No.”
All eyes turned to her.
She met Ye Lan’s suddenly sharp, scrutinizing phoenix gaze without flinching, and continued, “It has to go.”