Chapter 12: President Fu, You’re Hurt

“Bastard!”

In an instant, Zhou Ze and one of the bodyguards behind him flew into a rage, both lunging forward. Zhou Ze delivered a vicious kick to Gu Henan’s wrist, the one holding the knife.

A blood-curdling scream tore from Gu Henan’s throat as the folding knife was knocked from his grasp.

The other bodyguard was right behind, his fist crashing heavily into Gu Henan’s abdomen.

Gu Henan doubled over, thrown backward and sprawling to the ground, curling up in agony, howling miserably and unable to rise again.

“Mr. Fu, you’re hurt!”

Zhou Ze rushed over at once. Upon seeing the blood staining Fu Yancheng’s sleeve, his expression changed dramatically.

Yet Fu Yancheng paid no mind to his own wound. His first instinct was to turn to Qiao Xi, only relaxing slightly when he saw she was unharmed.

Just moments ago, he had called Qiao Xi repeatedly from the car, but she hadn’t answered. A sense of unease had pressed at his heart, prompting him to double back with the driver—only to walk into this very scene.

His brows knit, and he gritted his teeth against the pain. “I’m fine.”

His gaze swept over Gu Henan, who lay on the ground like a beaten dog, and a storm of fury and chilling murderous intent surged in his eyes. “Zhou Ze.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Drag him out of here,” Fu Yancheng commanded, his voice icy as frost. “Take the knife as well, and hand them both over to the police. Charge him with intentional assault.”

“Yes, sir!”

Zhou Ze signaled to the bodyguard, who dragged the wailing Gu Henan away as if he were nothing more than refuse.

Only then did Fu Yancheng lower his gaze to his bleeding arm, his brows furrowing.

“Mr. Fu, your hand!”

Qiao Xi finally recovered from the shock. She rushed to his side, tears falling like broken pearls as she saw the blood-soaked sleeve.

Her voice was choked with sobs and panic, “Quick! We need to get to the hospital!”

Fu Yancheng looked at her tear-streaked, panic-stricken face and, with his uninjured right hand, gently wiped away her tears—a motion awkward yet infinitely tender.

“Don’t cry,” he said, his voice low and hoarse. “It’s just a scratch. I won’t die.”

He paused, meeting her gaze, and added, “As long as you’re alright.”

“How can you call this a scratch? Look at all this blood!”

Qiao Xi’s fear and anxiety twisted her heart as she stared at his pale face and the blood still seeping from his wound.

She forgot her shyness, clutching tightly at his uninjured arm. “Come on! We have to go to the hospital!”

Seeing the undisguised worry and distress in her eyes, Fu Yancheng felt the pain in his arm ease.

He let her lead him away, and, surrounded by Zhou Ze and the bodyguards, hurried downstairs and climbed into the car, racing toward the nearest hospital.

On the way, Qiao Xi fumbled anxiously, pressing a clean handkerchief from Fu Yancheng’s suit jacket against his wound, desperate to stop the bleeding.

Her hands trembled and her tears kept falling.

Fu Yancheng leaned back in his seat, turning his head to watch Qiao Xi. He reached out with his right hand, gently covering her small hand where she pressed it to his wound.

“Don’t be afraid,” he murmured.

Qiao Xi looked up, her eyes blurred with tears, and grasped his hand tightly in return, as if it were her only salvation.

—

In the emergency room.

The doctor was stitching and bandaging the knife wound on Fu Yancheng’s arm. Throughout the entire procedure, he never so much as flinched, as if the injury belonged to someone else.

Qiao Xi stood beside him, her face pale and her teeth biting her lower lip. Seeing the fresh bandages on his arm, a tangle of pain and fear threatened to drown her.

Once the doctor finished tending to him and gave a few instructions, he left, and the hospital room was quiet but for the two of them.

Fu Yancheng sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze lingering on Qiao Xi’s swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks—a sight that pierced his heart.

He reached for her with his uninjured right hand and drew her closer.

Obediently, Qiao Xi moved forward, standing before him with her head bowed as tears fell steadily onto his patient gown.

“Don’t cry anymore,” Fu Yancheng said, his voice low and rough, tender in a way she’d never heard before.

Qiao Xi lifted her tear-filled eyes to meet his, and in their depths, she saw not the cold, controlled man of the past but warmth and a fierce determination that made her heart tremble.

“Qiao Xi,” Fu Yancheng said, locking eyes with her. He spoke slowly, each word clear and solemn. “Look at me.”

Instinctively, Qiao Xi gazed deeply into his eyes.

Fu Yancheng squeezed her hand, as if making the most earnest vow: “From now on…”

He paused, his eyes fervent.

“Let me protect you. Will you let me?”

Those words instantly shattered the last defense in Qiao Xi’s heart.

She could no longer hold back. Tears spilled over once more.

She nodded vigorously, voice choked with emotion, “Yes…”

Though her words faltered, they carried a dependence she’d never felt before.

In Fu Yancheng’s eyes, deep emotions swelled—a satisfaction, as if something had finally found its rightful place.

He drew her into his arms, letting her lean against his uninjured shoulder.

Qiao Xi nestled into his embrace, her arms gently encircling his waist.

He held her closer, not willing to let go.

He knew that at last, this strong yet fragile girl in his arms belonged to him.

—

After leaving the hospital, Fu Yancheng took Qiao Xi without hesitation to his villa on the hillside.

Zhou Ze had already arranged for a private doctor and nutritionist to be on standby.

His arm needed rest, but more importantly, he couldn’t bear to leave her alone.

“You’ll sleep in the master bedroom,” Fu Yancheng said, leading Qiao Xi to the door of the spacious, comfortable room. “I’ll take the room next door.”

“But, Mr. Fu, your wound…” Qiao Xi was filled with guilt.

“It’s nothing,” Fu Yancheng interrupted, his gaze deep and steady. “Be good and get some rest. You need to sleep.”

Unable to argue, Qiao Xi nodded. The shock and emotional upheaval had exhausted her, and she fell into a deep sleep the moment her head touched the pillow.

But late into the night, Fu Yancheng was awakened by the faint sound of sobbing from the next room.

He rose at once and pushed open the door to the master bedroom.

He found Qiao Xi curled up under the covers, silent tears streaming from her tightly closed eyes, soaking the pillow beneath her.

She was trapped in a nightmare.

Fu Yancheng’s heart twisted sharply.

After a brief hesitation, he gently lifted the edge of her quilt and lay down beside her, moving with utmost care.

He didn’t wake her, only slipped his uninjured right arm under her neck, drawing her softly into his embrace.

His chin rested on the crown of her head.

His other hand moved in soothing rhythm, gently patting her trembling back, comforting her as one would a frightened child.

“It’s alright now…” he whispered in her ear, his voice deep and comforting. “I’m here. Don’t be afraid.”

“From this day forward, I won’t let anything hurt you again.”

Gradually, Qiao Xi’s taut body relaxed in his arms, her breathing evening out as she finally found restful sleep.

Fu Yancheng held her like this, motionless, afraid to disturb her rest.

Only when exhaustion claimed him did he, too, finally succumb to sleep.