Rose Lock - Chapter 21

The winery estate was brightly lit at the moment. Servants hastily pushed open the green iron gate, and a black, quiet Ford drove in.

In the back seat, Hua Manyi was cradled in someone’s arms, shivering and completely pale, “Gong Ma… I’m so cold… so much pain…”

“I know, don’t lean back against the seat.” Gong Yan held her tightly. Her usually languid expression changed, revealing a hint of agitation amidst her gravity. The hand stroking Hua Manyi’s back was covered in blood, and the thick, pungent smell of blood filled the car.

“Hua Manyi, you will be fine.”

As soon as the car stopped, Hua Manyi was immediately rushed into a room, followed by several foreign doctors who quickly put on gloves and got into action.

“The bullet has already lodged in the bone,” Warner Sen said with a solemn expression, “We need to administer an anesthetic shot first.”

Gong Yan started to unbutton her dress. Just as she undid a few buttons, a hand suddenly gripped hers tightly. It was Hua Manyi, trembling with cold sweat, enduring the pain as she looked at Gong Yan and spoke with difficulty, “I don’t want an anesthetic.”

“Why?” Gong Yan lowered her eyes, a hint of disbelief pressing at her red lips, “Hua Manyi, you can’t endure this kind of pain.”

“I can,” Hua Manyi squeezed her hand tighter, gazing at her with a greedy look in her blurred vision, “I want to try what kind of pain it is.”

Would it be able to outweigh the pain of seeing her treat Jiang Yin so well? Today, she realized that Gong Yan not only sent flowers to Jiang Yin, helped her unclasp necklaces, and attended parties with her, but also protected Jiang Yin without hesitation.

“Hua Manyi, stop throwing your spoiled-young-lady tantrum, alright?” Gong Yan looked towards Warner Sen and nodded, signaling him to proceed.

“Then just let me die!” Hua Manyi’s eyes suddenly reddened, and she cried out hoarsely, pushing Gong Yan away with all her strength, “I am not some delicate young lady, I am just me, Hua Manyi.”

Did Gong Yan always see her, Hua Manyi, as so fragile and spoiled, so delicate and noble, still high and mighty even without the support of the Hua family?

Gong Yan froze.

Jiang Yin stood by, looking worried, and couldn’t help but interject, “Miss Manyi, you should still take the anesthetic, otherwise it will be very difficult for the doctor to remove the bullet.”

“You took a bullet for Ah Yan, she definitely wouldn’t leave you uncared for…” Jiang Yin added.

“I just unluckily got shot by accident, who said I took the bullet for her?” Hua Manyi coldly glanced at her, blinking, trying to hold back her tears.

“This… why are you so stubborn, child…” Jiang Yin didn’t know what to say and could only turn her gaze to Gong Yan, “Ah Yan…”

The atmosphere became silent. Warner Sen held the syringe and paused, “Madam Gong?”

Gong Yan stared deeply at the stubborn woman in front of her, watching her face turn increasingly pale, yet still refusing to yield.

Finally, she had no choice but to back down, and she ordered, “No anesthetic.”

…

The upper half of her Qipao was cut open, revealing her frail white shoulder, with only a thin dudou (a type of Chinese bodice) tied around her neck.

Cold forceps smeared with alcohol were applied to the wound, causing a sharp, burning pain. When the scissors, which had been passed over fire, cut through her flesh, Hua Manyi nearly fainted, gripping something tightly in her hand, as if to distract herself.

Fine beads of sweat broke out on her forehead, dampening the stray hairs. She stared blankly at the bed board, her spine chilling. When the bullet was finally clamped out, her lower lip was bitten until it bled.

From beginning to end, Hua Manyi truly managed not to utter a single cry of pain.

Warner Sen was packing up his instruments and tools. A large basin of bloody water and a mass of blood-soaked cotton were carried out to be disposed of.

“Madam Gong, I will leave now.”

“Mhm.”

Gong Yan looked at the woman who was now bandaged and fast asleep on the bed, her eyes filled with complexity.

In the spacious European-style drawing room, the Western painting hung silently on the wall, and the copper horn of the half-height gramophone was shrouded in shadow, cold and desolate.

Upon seeing Gong Yan emerge from the room, Butler Fu immediately stepped forward to report, “Madam, Feng Wu has been caught. Bureau Chief Zhao said he is very pleased with this gift and asked me to inform you that he will visit another day.”

Gong Yan sat on the sofa, resting one hand on the armrest. There was no hint of surprise on her face; instead, she closed her eyes heavily, pondering something, “I know. Take Jiang Yin to the guest room to rest.”

Jiang Yin walked up to her. Although her face lacked color, she managed a brave smile and shook her head, “Ah Yan, I’m fine. I’ll stay with you.”

Today’s event had been a frightening experience for her too; her heart was still racing.

“Jiang Yin, go back to your room. Leave me be for a while.”

The phrase laced with rejection caused Jiang Yin’s hand to halt in mid-air. Jiang Yin bit her lip, reluctantly curled her fingers, said “Alright,” and followed Butler Fu downstairs.

“Also, turn off the lights in the drawing room. Just leave one small lamp on.”

Butler Fu was about to go downstairs when he suddenly heard this instruction. He paused, assuming it was because the light was too harsh, and didn’t think much of it. He raised his hand and turned off the Baccarat crystal chandelier in the hall, leaving a single small, dimly yellowish lamp on. “Yes, Madam.”

In front of the huge floor-to-ceiling glass windows, the inky black night shimmered with a few faint stars. The vast winery estate was enveloped in the darkness, with scattered trees and shrubs, and a few chirps from early spring insects.

A cluster of fiery red light suddenly ignited in the drawing room, lighting a cigarette with a gold filter. The red light quickly extinguished, leaving only tiny, patchy sparks at the end of the cigarette.

Wreaths of smoke drifted up and dispersed in the drawing room. The woman’s face gradually appeared through the smoke: prominent brow bones, red lips that looked a few shades darker in the night, and her usually languid ‘ruifeng’ eyes were now caught in an indescribable emotion.

At this moment, the cigarette did not provide the usual calming effect, but rather prolonged and fueled the vague, unsettling thoughts.

If she hadn’t chosen to fall out with Feng Wu then, would no one have been hurt because of it?

She had thought she could escape completely unscathed, but in the end…

Gong Yan closed her eyes, and the image of that once bright little face instantly losing all color flashed in her mind, haunting her like a nightmare. To this day, she couldn’t understand that woman’s thinking. She was still relatively young, hadn’t experienced many significant troubles, yet how could she have the courage to rush forward and block a bullet for Gong Yan in a hail of gunfire?

The pendulum on the wall clock swung back and forth, tick by tick. It was already two o’clock in the morning, and the ashtray in the drawing room held several more cigarette butts.

In the room, Hua Manyi’s long hair cascaded over the pillow. The short hairs on her forehead were plastered to her temples with sweat. Her pretty, pale jaw was exposed. Her small, palm-sized face inevitably brought to mind smooth, moist jade. Even though she was so hot that her face was flushed, she kept murmuring about being cold, and occasionally, thirsty.

“Water…”

The gurgling sound of water being poured echoed in the quiet air. High heels clicked softly on the heavy floorboards.

“Hua Manyi, wake up and drink some water.”

A tall, graceful figure sat down by the bed in the moonlight, gently helping the person on the bed sit up, deliberately avoiding the wound and placing her hand on Hua Manyi’s slender waist.

Watching the dark, beautiful head with eyes closed, her face not as pale as when she was first injured, having regained some color, she eagerly drank the hot water from the cup as if encountering a long-awaited downpour. Gong Yan, by some strange impulse, stroked her cascading dark hair. A delicate and lustrous texture immediately met her palm.

She parted her lips softly, “Drink slowly.”

A few seconds later, the cup was empty, but the woman still called out for water. Gong Yan frowned, preparing to get up and pour another cup, when the woman on the bed suddenly turned her body, hugged Gong Yan’s waist, and buried her head in her chest.

Gong Yan froze, thinking the woman was simply insecure and afraid. She placed the cup on the bedside table and was about to hug her and gently pat her shoulder to comfort her, when she suddenly felt her chest being lightly squeezed twice.

“…”

Slender arms wrapped around her neck, and a sucking force transmitted through the fabric of the Qipao. Gong Yan’s frown deepened. She really didn’t want to overthink things in a certain way.

The next moment, a whisper of “Mommy,” as faint as a mosquito, faintly entered her ear, forcing her to consider that possibility.

“Hua Manyi.” Gong Yan’s eyes slightly chilled. She gently pushed her head away, a trace of annoyance pressing at her red lips, “Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

The woman on her chest stopped moving, taking a few deep breaths, as if trying to distinguish something. She stopped rubbing her head and climbed up with her hands, her straight, delicate nose twitching as she sniffed along the other woman’s neck. “Mmm… not Mommy… it’s Gong Ma…”

Gong Yan felt a slight sense of relief, but didn’t notice the graceful figure was already kneeling by the bed. Her hands rested on Gong Yan’s shoulders, barely steadying her body. Her head was slightly bowed, still appearing to be in a hazy, semi-conscious state. Her long eyelashes trembled, and her colorless lips made a soft smacking sound in the darkness. Her pale, delicate hands moved from the shoulders to the woman’s cheeks.

Gong Yan felt two pieces of ice-cold skin against her face and finally realized something was wrong. She lifted her eyelids, furrowed her brows, and uttered a cold reprimand, “Hua Manyi—”

The rest of her words were swallowed whole.

The kiss was clumsy and disorganized, like an unripe fruit, yet it possessed a brute force, dryly taking, as if trying to draw something from her.

The frosty white moonlight streamed in from the window, illuminating a corner of the bed. The woman, wearing only a dudou on her upper body, knelt by the bed. Her slender waist was subtly visible beneath her cascading long hair. Her skin, like lamb fat jade, seemed to emit a bloody fragrance…

A lingering whisper was heard in the air, “Hua Manyi…”

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