Chapter Seventy-One: "Is This Not the Will of Heaven?"

Jiang Yunzhu's cheeks were flushed, her tears nearly blurring her vision as she teetered on the edge of drunken sobs. Seeing Shen Tingxiao covered in blood, she dared not touch him anywhere.

"How can you talk about that at a time like this! How badly are you hurt? Is it serious?"

"Doctor—where's the doctor?"

A few attendants hurried over, carrying a stretcher. "We've already called for a helicopter; it will arrive within ten minutes. Mr. Shen's injuries appear too severe. There's a medical room on the ship—let's get him there to rest first."

"Tingxiao, let's—"

"Yunzhu…" Shen Tingxiao's body swayed, his head drooping, resting on Jiang Yunzhu's shoulder. His voice suddenly softened, "The safe at Stillwater Bay… your birthday… everything… it's yours…"

Before he could finish, Shen Tingxiao could no longer hold on. His hand was still cupping Jiang Yunzhu's face as he collapsed unexpectedly, leaving a streak of blood across her cheek.

"Tingxiao! Shen Tingxiao!"

Her piercing cries tore through the air; for a moment, she didn't even know if it was her own voice.

Heart-wrenching sobs, chaotic crowds, the rush of stretchers and medical teams—everything blurred into a patchwork of colors before Jiang Yunzhu's eyes.

The world spun, bloodstained floors and flickering crystal lights turned upside down.

Only a humming remained in her ears.

The smell of disinfectant stabbed into her nose; dazed, she opened her eyes to harsh, blinding light.

"President Jiang, you're awake!"

Jiang Yunzhu gathered herself, finally recognizing the speaker. It was her assistant, along with several key members of her company. Bouquets crowded the bedside, sent by classmates and professors from her university.

"President Jiang, how do you feel? Are you still dizzy? I'll fetch the doctor."

"Wait." Jiang Yunzhu raised her hand. "What happened to me?"

"What happened?" Sang Bai exclaimed excitedly, "You nearly scared us to death!"

"A perfectly good engagement party—how could something like this happen? Is this Shen Tingxiao even reliable?"

Assistant Xiao Zhang spoke cautiously, "The doctor said you were shocked and traumatized—that’s why you fainted. They gave you two sedatives. Are you feeling better now?"

The buzzing in her mind slowly faded. Jiang Yunzhu shook her head vigorously. Instantly, the images of the yacht, blood, and Shen Tingxiao falling surged into her mind, yet felt distant, as if separated by a thin veil.

It had truly happened—a disaster terrifying enough to shatter one's soul—yet now it seemed like she was watching a film, one in which she had no part.

"…How is Shen Tingxiao?"

For a moment, no one answered. Jiang Yunzhu asked again. The assistant stammered, "He’s had stitches, a blood transfusion, and is still unconscious. He’s just been taken away by the Shen family’s private doctor."

Her heart lurched violently, but she couldn't muster any emotion. The sedatives must still be working, for though she trembled with fear, her voice was calm—colder than ever, almost indifferent.

"Have the police come?"

"They came and left, taking away two suspects involved in the terrorist attack, as well as the yacht manager. There’s no outcome yet."

Jiang Yunzhu closed her eyes, struggling to sit up. As she tried to stand, her foot touched the ground, sending a sharp pain through her.

"You can’t stand yet!" Xiao Zhang hurried to push a wheelchair over. "Your feet are covered in injuries. Even if you don’t need stitches, you’ll need to rest for a while. You mustn’t walk or move recklessly."

She must have stepped on broken glass when she rushed off barefoot to get help.

Jiang Yunzhu paid little attention, letting her assistant help her into the wheelchair. "Uncle… how is Shen Ruizhang?"

"He’s in the intensive care unit."

"What?!"

"You didn’t know? He—"

…

There was still blood caught beneath her nails. Her pale hand gripped the glass outside the ICU, that streak of red glaringly vivid.

It was deep into the night. Jiang Yunzhu kept vigil outside, her anxious breaths fogging the glass window into droplets.

As the sedative's effect wore off, every heartbeat in her chest was tinged with pain.

Suddenly, the ICU door opened, and a doctor in a white coat stepped out. "Are you Mr. Shen’s family?"

Jiang Yunzhu’s eyes burned with tears. "I am. How is he?"

"He’s out of danger. Family members may visit now."

Jiang Yunzhu wheeled herself to the bedside. Seeing the man's pale, haggard face with the breathing mask still on, memories from the yacht came rushing back.

When the piano fell, he shielded her with his warmth; in the sea wind, his strained voice, "Step over me," echoed vividly. All of it struggled forth, merging with years of steadfast protection into an unbreakable bond.

His medical chart hung by the bed, filled with technical terms. With her English, she could only make out fractured ribs, a penetrating injury to the right lung, and the like.

At the time, she’d only worried for Shen Tingxiao, never realizing how gravely Shen Ruizhang was injured as well.

"I thought you’d grown up, able to run a company on your own—how is it that you still cry like you did as a child?"

"Uncle…"

"I’m not dying." Shen Ruizhang tried to raise his hand to wipe her tears, but after several attempts, failed.

Yet Jiang Yunzhu misunderstood the gesture. "Uncle, do you want to clean your hands?"

He’d always valued cleanliness—not to the point of obsession, but he couldn’t tolerate filth.

She dared not touch him elsewhere, but surely cleaning his hands was alright.

There were alcohol swabs in the bedside cabinet. She took some and carefully wiped his palm.

In his palm was an old scar. Jiang Yunzhu paused—she’d given him that as a child, pulling him to dig in the garden and accidentally slashing his hand with a shovel.

She’d been terrified, begging him not to tell their family. At the time, Shen Ruizhang was just a teenager himself—and he’d endured it without a word.

'…Yunzhu?'

Jiang Yunzhu looked up abruptly, shaken from her reverie.

Shen Ruizhang was watching her, seemingly lost in his own memories. After a long pause, he said slowly, "Yunzhu, don’t marry Shen Tingxiao. Please?"

Jiang Yunzhu froze. Somehow, Shen Ruizhang found the strength to grasp her hand, his dark eyes full of emotions she couldn’t decipher.

"Don’t you think today’s events are fate?"

His tone was urgent. "Shen Tingxiao isn’t as good as you think. He’s deeply calculating—you’re too straightforward. Don’t let him fool you, and don’t help him count his money!"

"The Shen family isn’t as simple as you imagine. My cousins are all formidable. Shen Tingxiao has gone too far these years—today’s attack is just one example."

"So what?" Jiang Yunzhu’s voice was ethereal, her gaze trembling.

"So I don’t want you to marry into such a den of vipers!"

Jiang Yunzhu suddenly smiled, tears still shining in her eyes, but her lips curled into a mocking arc.

"Uncle, you’ve said so much, but missed the most crucial point."

She withdrew her hand and looked toward the door, enunciating each word: "Uncle, my aunt has arrived."