Chapter 3001: Taming the Wayward 18

Jin Chen pressed his attacking arm back onto the bed, then nodded to the shaken nurse and Doctor Liu, "Continue."

Doctor Liu steadied himself, gesturing for the assistant to prepare the equipment again.

But Chenshu's body, though no longer attacking, remained tense; every touch provoked violent spasms and resistance, making proper wound cleaning and suturing impossible.

"President Jin, this…" Doctor Liu looked at Jin Chen, embarrassed.

"In this patient's agitated state, forced treatment could cause secondary injury and cannot guarantee results."

Yan Rui couldn't help muttering quietly at the door, "President Jin, this little sister-in-law's alertness… isn't any worse than yours."

Yeah.

Jin Chen's gaze sank.

Chenshu's combat skills are good; he knows this, the little swindler himself said he'd trained a few years with Ninth Uncle, and it's no surprise Ninth Uncle could teach such ability.

But having good skills and this kind of reaction—where mere therapeutic touch in a coma triggers such fierce aggression—are two different matters.

What the latter requires is countless experiences of staying alert while severely injured and weak, and brutal training where any lapse could mean death or worse consequences.

Only after struggling to survive in a situation where death could come at any moment, only after truly being taken advantage of or suffering secondary injury while gravely wounded, does such a deep instinct form.

Jin Chen looked at the handsome youth on the bed, who remained on guard even in coma, his heart inexplicably stirred; he walked to the bedside, sat beside Chenshu, slipped his arms under Chenshu's neck and knees, using a firm hold that wouldn't press on the wounds, and half-lifted him from the bed into his embrace.

Chenshu struggled a bit, but soon, in his coma he recognized that scent; his brows furrowed, his whole face scrunched up as if suffering a great injustice, he actively turned his head and buried his sweat‑soaked, scorching cheek into Jin Chen's neck crook, almost pulling at the wound at his waist.

Jin Chen was stunned for a moment by this unexpected reaction.

He lowered his head, looking at the head resting in his arms; a private sense of satisfaction quietly grew, temporarily overriding the anger and doubt from betrayal, and his possessive desire received a distorted soothing.

Jin Chen stroked Chenshu's back and gave a light pat.

"Continue treatment."

Doctor Liu and the assistants: "…" "Alright then."

This time Chenshu didn't struggle, he curled a little tighter into Jin Chen's embrace, and his breathing gradually steadied.

Jin Chen held him steady with one arm, allowing him to occasionally rub against him in his dazed state when he couldn't bear the pain, while his other hand took out his phone.

Today's affair blew up big; although the East Port side was promptly contained, it left hidden dangers, and many matters need his immediate attention.

But fortunately, South Port is the safest of the several ports under his control in Brush City, storing no particularly important supplies and seeing little trade, so dealing with its hidden dangers isn't troublesome and remains within controllable limits.

The rainstorm outside finally stopped, leaving only a faint patter.

Brush City was utterly plunged into a damp, silent midnight washed by rain.

The medical team finally finished treating all the wounds, packed up their instruments and medicines, gave Jin Chen a few reminders, then left.

By then, the time was approaching dawn.

Jin Chen tossed his hot phone onto the bedside table, leaned back against the soft headboard, and lowered his gaze to the person in his arms who had finally fallen into a deep sleep, no longer startled or uneasy.

The grime on Chenshu's face had been carefully wiped away, revealing his originally fair skin, though his high fever and blood loss made him unnaturally pallid; his lips were chapped, a fever patch stuck to his forehead, and clean white bandages wrapped his arms and waist, making him look fragile and at peace—quite unlike the fierce‑eyed, injury‑covered yet calm youth from a few hours earlier in the abandoned factory.

Jin Chen watched for a while, then suddenly reached out, lifted a corner of the thin blanket covering Chenshu, and lowered his head to examine the spot above Chenshu's left knee.

There the bandage only wrapped to mid‑thigh; above it lay a small patch of intact skin. Jin Chen placed his fingertip on it, rubbing the edge of the birthmark, which felt smooth, indistinguishable from the surrounding skin.

He pondered, his finger lingering there—what exactly were all those secrets this little swindler hid?

Does Ninth Uncle know or not know about these things concerning Chenshu?

Before Ninth Uncle died, what else did he fail to tell him in time?

For the first time, Jin Chen doubted the trust placed in Ninth Uncle's letter; he stared at the birthmark, then at Chenshu's furrowed brow in sleep, his eyes shifting, finally settling into a deep, obscure darkness.

After a long while, he finally shifted to lie down in that pose; Chenshu leaned toward him, breath blowing on his skin; after a moment, Jin Chen reached out and pulled Chenshu closer to himself, then closed his eyes.