Chapter 11: Deadly Poison

Ye Zehong’s expression darkened; he knew all too well that Lu Yao was vomiting blood. But in the darkness, there was no way to judge precisely why. He seized her other arm and pulled her away.

Lu Yao struggled, “What are you doing?”

Ye Zehong didn’t answer. He simply lifted her into his arms and, moving as swiftly as possible, carried her back to the west wing of Plum Garden.

He settled her onto the sofa, then left the room. Five minutes later, he returned carrying a white medical case.

With a grave face, he cut open the sleeve of her arm.

“You—” Lu Yao had wanted to scold him for his indecency, but the sight of her arm, swollen and bleeding with pus, stunned her into silence, her heart trembling.

How had she not realized her arm was so badly injured?

Her delicate pale arm was swollen like a dough stick, pus and blood mingling together in a shocking display.

“Hiss—” The sharp pain snapped Lu Yao back to awareness. She shrank away, lowering her gaze to see Ye Zehong’s tense face as he swiftly wiped the inflamed wound with iodine-soaked cotton. The iodine seeped into the wound, intensifying the agony, making her vision swim.

“Ye Zehong, can’t you go slower—be gentler?”

“You’ve been poisoned, and the toxin has already spread through your arm. If I don’t clean the wound quickly, you’ll be waiting for amputation.”

Lu Yao was so shocked she couldn’t speak, gazing at her injured arm through a blur of tears. Her whole body trembled, her face pale as death, terror in her eyes.

She had almost—before she could uncover anything, she’d nearly lost her hand.

Ye Zehong caught the fear in her eyes; his expression grew even more grim, his jaw clenched hard.

From the white case, he took out a roll of gauze and handed it to her.

His voice softened somewhat: “There’s no anesthetic in the kit. If you can’t bear the pain when I clean the wound, bite down on this.”

Lu Yao’s hands and feet were cold as ice. She nodded numbly.

Ye Zehong donned sterile gloves, picked up a scalpel, and sliced open the wound. Pus and blood gushed forth, dripping onto the floor, crimson and voracious.

Without anesthesia, the pain of having her arm cut open was raw and unbearable—not just the wound, but her entire body seemed to ache, as if flesh were being torn from her bones. Lu Yao nearly fainted from the torment.

She gritted her teeth, enduring the agony, her uninjured hand clutching tightly to Ye Zehong’s sleeve.

At this moment, the only person she could trust was the man who had stood by her side for three years.

She laid bare her vulnerability and fear before him.

Ye Zehong’s heart softened. In a gentle, pained voice, he said, “Hold on just a little longer. Once the drainage is done, I’ll stitch it up immediately.”

Lu Yao slowly closed her eyes, enduring second by second the pain far beyond what she could bear.

Ye Zehong’s movements were deft and professional as he inserted the drainage tube, then skillfully sutured the wound closed.

When wrapping the gauze, his fingers inadvertently brushed against her soft, cool skin. The sensation chilled to the bone, and with the pain, her heart trembled once more.

Eyes closed, she was acutely sensitive to his touch.

Once the wound was treated, he looked at her arm, now swollen to twice its size, and frowned deeply.

“Ye Zehong,” Lu Yao sensed his pause and slowly opened her eyes, quietly calling his name.

Ye Zehong looked up at her.

“The wound is taken care of. I’ll thank you properly another day. You should go home now… Miss Qiao is probably waiting for you…”

She finished and carefully cradled her arm to avoid stressing the freshly stitched wound.

A trace of coldness flashed through Ye Zehong’s dark eyes. “Just because the wound’s cleaned doesn’t mean it’s over. Without timely antibiotics and inflammation control, the tissue will die, and you’ll still lose the arm.”

“Then we need to get to the hospital for an IV,” Lu Yao’s hands and feet turned icy cold again, her heart tightening. She tried to rise, but was pressed back onto the sofa, struggling to stand.

Ye Zehong, worried the stitches might tear, gently reminded her, “Going to the hospital now would be like walking right into a trap, exposing yourself.”

Lu Yao, utterly bewildered, asked, “What do you mean?”