A Bad-Hearted Doctor is Unbearably Beautiful - Chapter 50

Inside the mobile command vehicle.

A portable screen displayed the kidnapper’s live feed, though the image remained pitch black. Ever since the deal was struck yesterday for Shen Zhao to exchange himself for the child, the screen had stayed dark.

Lu Xiao stared at the timer. It had been nearly thirty minutes since Shen Zhao had completely lost contact…

Shen Zhao had no idea where he had been taken.

After being hauled into the vehicle by a large man wearing a white mask, he had lost consciousness almost immediately. Thinking back carefully, he recalled the faint scent of an inhalational anesthetic just before he blacked out.

The moment the black hood was yanked off his head, Shen Zhao was dazed by the piercing glare of the lights.

How much time has passed? Lu Xiao… how is he?

Frowning, he forced his eyes open. He was sitting in a chair. The room was as cold as an ice cellar, windowless, and sealed by a single, heavy metal door.

His eyes landed instantly on the child lying on a bed nearby.

The moment he tried to rush toward the boy, he realized his legs were bound to the chair; he couldn’t move an inch. Looking down, he discovered his clothes had been changed. He was now wearing a set of pure white cotton-linen pajamas. On the hard concrete walls around him, he could still see the bloodstains that had been splattered during yesterday’s broadcast.

The boy lay on a cold surgical bed, covered by a thin blanket. His lips were blue. His hands and feet were confined by iron rings, and he thrashed against them in a desperate attempt to escape, the skin around his ankles already a mess of raw blisters and sores.

“Number Thirteen… we finally… meet.”

A strange voice drifted from behind him, sounding muffled as if filtered through something.

Shen Zhao whipped his head around. Standing there was a man dressed in a head-to-toe white suit. He wore a white wool fedora, and beneath the brim was a white mask with only a single eye-slit for visibility. His features were completely obscured.

With a soft chuckle, the man walked slowly from behind Shen Zhao. He pulled up a chair and sat directly across from him, face-to-face.

The man leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. He crossed his hands—clad in black leather gloves—and propped his chin on them. From beneath the mask, he looked up, his gaze traveling inch by inch over Shen Zhao as if appraising him.

Shen Zhao’s eyes flashed with murderous intent. “Who are you?”

The man gave a low laugh. “Just an old acquaintance. You likely don’t remember me. But I… day and night, I could never forget you.”

His voice sounded like a sigh, heavy with a twisted sense of self-pity. The tone was mournful, winding through several layers of melancholy.

Bound to the chair, Shen Zhao could do nothing but stare back. He fixed his gaze on the eye-hole of the mask, but he could see nothing within.

The man’s finger rose slightly. “I haven’t started the broadcast yet. Right now, this is private time, reserved just for you and me…”

As he spoke, his fingertip drifted gently toward Shen Zhao’s cheek, yet he hesitated to make contact. His movements and posture suggested someone who had finally obtained something long-desired but was now too afraid to touch it. His hand stayed suspended in mid-air, projecting a fractured sense of both love and pity.

Finally, his finger brushed against a strand of Shen Zhao’s hair. He stood up, looking down at the doctor, his voice hauntingly tender. “When you were little, you clearly hated it most when people touched you.”

His finger slid from the hair to the bridge of Shen Zhao’s nose, then to his lips…

The mask leaned in close, whispering into Shen Zhao’s ear, “After all these years, you’ve grown into something… truly breathtaking.”

The voice was cold, damp, and slimy.

Shen Zhao jerked his head away, his eyes scanning the room for any equipment that posed a threat or anything he could use as a weapon. “Regardless of your goal, I came here for the child. You promised me.”

The man grabbed Shen Zhao’s face and forced it back to center, the surface of the mask pressing against Shen Zhao’s forehead. “Don’t worry. Seeing you makes me very happy. You may do whatever you like.”

With that, he produced a remote control. The moment he pressed a button, Shen Zhao saw a metal frame—shaped like an iron cage and bristling with sharp spikes—descend rapidly from the ceiling.

“No!” Shen Zhao screamed, a hoarse cry of despair.

He felt his heart leap into his throat; his pupils dilated in shock.

The square cage dropped over the boy. Of the four spikes on the frame, two slammed into the bed, while the other two pierced straight through the boy’s palms.

the boy’s lower body convulsed violently on the bed.

“Stop it! I beg you… please…” Shen Zhao growled, blood already soaking through the boy’s palms.

“Don’t be in such a hurry,” the man sighed softly. “You were always so… kind.”

He strolled lazily over to the camera and twisted off the lens cap.

“Alright, time to give your ‘good friend’ an update on how you’re doing.”

Shen Zhao’s eyes were full of rage, but he forced himself to lower his voice. “Let the child go… I beg you.”

The man spun in a graceful, dance-like circle in front of the camera. “Very well.”

He stepped behind Shen Zhao and snipped the restraints. “Go on, go to him.”

Shen Zhao immediately lunged toward the boy’s bed, but after only a few steps, he felt as though his strength had been entirely drained.

“You drugged me?” Shen Zhao’s eyes filled with desperation.

The man shrugged. “Just a little something to limit your physical strength. To keep you from… constantly thinking about leaving me.”

Gasping for breath, Shen Zhao ignored him and threw his upper body over the metal cage, lifting it to reveal the two bloody holes in the boy’s hands.

“Where are the bandages and antiseptics I brought? Where are they!”

The man sat back in the chair with his legs crossed, huffing a cold laugh. “You couldn’t bring your things in here. Even that annoying little device in your ear… I threw that away long ago.”

Shen Zhao’s heart sank. Even the comms were gone…

“I even changed your clothes myself. How could I let any ‘filth’ from the outside world stay on your body?”

As he spoke, he tilted his chin up slightly toward the camera, his lips curling into a sharp, beautiful arc—a silent declaration of ownership.

“The medical kit is under the bed. Fetch it yourself.”

His voice was airy, his head tilted as he watched Shen Zhao.

Shen Zhao quickly lowered his head, scanning the space beneath the bed. Seeing that Shen Zhao remained hunched over for a long time, the man asked, “Did you find it?”

“Yes. Is all this equipment under the bed used to torture this child?” Shen Zhao’s voice trembled with suppressed fury.

The man gave a light, non-committal chuckle.

Exhaling sharply, Shen Zhao pulled out the medical kit. Ignoring everything else, he cast a deep, lingering look at the camera facing him before quickly bowing his head to treat the boy’s wounds—disinfecting, stopping the bleeding, and bandaging.

The man in the white suit sat nearby with his head tilted, his eerie mask glowing in the light as he watched Shen Zhao in silence, as if admiring a work of art.

“Doctor Shen, are you always this focused when you work?”

Shen Zhao did not answer, his hands rummaging through the medical kit.

“I really wish I could be your patient,” the man’s voice drifted and lingered near Shen Zhao’s ear.

“I need surgical needle and thread,” Shen Zhao said, looking up to meet the man’s gaze with a cold stare.

The man stood up and walked toward him. “This child’s family doesn’t even care about him. Why are you so concerned?”

Shen Zhao glared at him. “Give them to me!”

The white mask swayed in front of Shen Zhao’s face, then toward the camera. With a soft laugh, the man reached out and cupped Shen Zhao’s chin, forcing his head back against his hand.

Though his expression was hidden, his voice and actions were excessively provocative, as if he were intentionally putting on a show for the camera. “Fine. Is the next step asking me for a scalpel and scissors?”

He slid his fingers slowly across Shen Zhao’s face, whispering, “That child… he looks a lot like you did when you were young.”

“Once you finish his surgery, how about you lie down instead? Stay here… and keep me company.”

In front of the screen, Lu Xiao’s grip tightened around his gun.