With the loud curfew alarms blaring, the glaring white headlights cut through the dark night like a knife, winding up a long, spiraling road, reaching the top of a rocky cliff.
“The city will go under full curfew in half an hour!”
“We urge all citizens to return home promptly, do not wander outside, go back to your legal fixed residences.”
“Otherwise, consequences are at your own risk! At your own risk!”
The “at your own risk” echoed sharply in the valley, piercing one’s ears.
The pickup truck finally stopped in front of a massive black volcanic rock.
The rock formation was an irregular ring, with one end sinking into the ground, resembling a bizarre meteorite that had fallen from the sky onto the mountain.
Ning Zhuo rolled down the window and pressed his left hand, covered in haina (henna) flower tattoos, against a slender, half-human-height black stone nearby.
A mechanism activated, and the volcanic rock began to rotate slowly at a peculiar angle.
As the rock turned, a metal road appeared in front of him, extending downward indefinitely.
Green and yellow alternating spectrum lights embedded in the ground flashed continuously, guiding Ning Zhuo forward.
Two large sentences were painted on the walls on both sides:
Safe passage.
Do not enter without permission.
As the vehicle drove in, the volcanic rock began to rotate again, like a quietly lurking stone beast, swallowing the red taillights.
But as the entire pickup truck entered the passage, the security system suddenly started alarming.
“Warning, warning, this vehicle is not registered to this base; manual verification is required; manual verification is required!”
The next second, a red warning line extended from the tire tracks, forming a large pattern of oracle bone script and climbing vine-like up the walls.
Hidden stone lanterns were activated, hanging along the walls, their interiors filled with deep, dim red light, casting eerie shadows throughout the tunnel.
A hundred meters away, a nearly two-meter-tall mechanical judge descended from the air, hovering in the middle of the road, holding a steel tiger head in its right hand and a judge’s scroll in its left. Its cold, red mechanical eyes stared at the speeding pickup.
The surrounding walls opened like steel lotus flowers, launching bronze-shelled guns and crossbows.
More mechanisms were hidden in the mythical beast murals on the walls, ready to strike.
A voice soon echoed in the tunnel: “Who are you? Answer immediately! Three seconds without a reply, and you’ll face the consequences—”
Ning Zhuo, his head aching from the alarm, stuck his head out of the window and impatiently shouted: “Tang Kaichang! Make it shut up!”
Upon hearing Ning Zhuo’s voice, the other side immediately complied like a scared quail: “Yes, Ning-ge, shutting it down now.”
Everything returned to normal.
Atop the cliff, the volcanic rock remained standing, as if it had been there since ancient times.
In the distance, the searchlights from the lighthouse swept towards the “Haina” base.
As the beam reached the end, it couldn’t illuminate the volcanic rock, only lighting up a pattern on the cliff face directly below it.
—A brilliantly blooming Haina (henna) flower.
The flower’s message was: “Do not touch me.”
…
Ning Zhuo descended through the steel and neon, stopping only at a floor marked with a red “B16” sign, and scanned his tattoo to enter.
He smoothly parked the white pickup next to an ambulance, got out, and opened the ambulance’s rear compartment. After noisily pulling out a scoop stretcher and securing Shan Feibai on it, he stood on the truck bed and opened his communicator again: “Min Min, emergency room on the 16th floor, be ready in three minutes.”
Noticing Shan Feibai’s weak breathing and fading consciousness, Ning Zhuo slapped him in the face: “Stay awake!”
A rustling sound of clothes being put on came from the other end: “Who is this?”
Ning Zhuo jumped down from the truck and began pulling the stretcher: “You have two and a half minutes.”
The communicator responded with a “damn” before being decisively cut off.
…
One by one, smart metal doors covered in pale blue circuit patterns opened in front of Ning Zhuo.
The stretcher wheels rolled over the floor tiles, producing a monotonous, dull sound.
Turning a corner, Ning Zhuo came face to face with a man.
He was wearing a casual shirt and shorts, holding a broom, and meticulously cleaning the corner.
Hearing the approaching running sounds, the man smiled slightly, just about to turn and greet them, when a high-speed stretcher came barreling towards him.
Reacting swiftly, he dodged the stretcher, which narrowly missed his waist.
Ning Zhuo, holding onto the flatbed, sternly shouted: “Move aside!!”
The man leaned against the wall, watching Ning Zhuo leave.
He looked about thirty-seven or thirty-eight years old, not very tall but in good shape, his back resembling that of a man in his twenties.
His facial features were mostly ordinary and delicate, with a generic face and hairstyle that were so nondescript that one would forget him instantly.
Only his bright, beautiful eyes stood out, but even they were half-obscured by round-cornered, square black glasses.
He blinked, frowned, and complained: “Rude.”
But Ning Zhuo had some sense, not kicking the freshly swept trash pile.
Instinctively gathering the slightly scattered dust, the man then remembered something and called out to Ning Zhuo’s receding figure: “Hey, who are you bringing in?!”
Ning Zhuo had no time to respond.
When he reached the door of the emergency room, someone was already waiting outside.
It was Min Min’s assistant, whose name Ning Zhuo barely remembered, only recalling that Min Min always called him Xiao Wen.
Xiao Wen, affected by Ning Zhuo’s intense demeanor, quickly took over the stretcher without questioning his half-missing arm: “Sister Min Min is inside; everything is ready; what’s the situation—oh my god!”
He stared at Shan Feibai’s pale, bloodless face as if trying to bore a hole through him.
Ning Zhuo wiped his mouth, swallowing the metallic taste of blood: “Not dead.”
Xiao Wen cautiously asked: “Should we make sure he dies?”
Ning Zhuo shot him a cold glance.
“Wouldn’t it be bad if he died on our hands?” Xiao Wen gestured, “Better to dump him outside in the mountains; no one would know…”
Ning Zhuo: “I need him alive.”
Xiao Wen quickly swallowed the rest of his words: “Got it! Sister Min Min, he’s here!”
He pushed Shan Feibai into the emergency room.
Before the door closed, Ning Zhuo heard a resounding curse from inside: “Damn! Why is it him?!”
But she understood a bit more than Xiao Wen and didn’t rush out asking questions.
Ning Zhuo had brought her in to assess the injuries, and she did not question the timing and space of Ning Zhuo’s judgment.
However, given the severity of the injuries, her preparation was somewhat lacking.
She made several phone calls, summoning all the doctors from “Haina” to come over.
Ning Zhuo sat outside the emergency room, and only then did a wave of exhaustion slowly erupt from deep within him.
But Ning Zhuo did not allow such an outburst.
He forced himself to stand up and walk to the other side of the corridor.
He knew that Min Min would not be able to sleep for the rest of the night.
During this time, he had his own tasks to attend to.
Ning Zhuo walked alone through the base, quickly disappearing from sight.
He disappeared within the base for a full two hours.
Two hours later.
The red light outside the emergency room went out, and with the rising disinfectant smoke, a tall figure emerged, removing their clothes as they walked.
Min Min, the medical technician and mechanic, wore a form-fitting black dress with a hollow floral pattern on the front side, revealing a beautiful set of abdominal muscles.
Ning Zhuo was still sitting at the emergency room door, as if he had never left.
He was sucking on a lollipop, attentively savoring it.
The transparent candy made a pleasant, light sound as it clicked in his mouth.
He glanced at Min Min and asked, “How is it?”
Min Min sat down next to him: “He’s in our hands now. Give a clear answer: How do you want him to live?”
Ning Zhuo: “What do you mean, ‘how to live’?”
Min Min: “The second and fourth vertebrae are broken, but the spinal cord is intact. If you want to treat him properly, you’ll need to replace his vertebrae, and he’ll be able to get up in half a month. If not, just send him back home, to ‘Panqiao,’ or wherever.”
She crossed her arms and said in a plain tone: “If we let him get injured along the way and damage his spinal cord, he’ll be bedridden and precious for the rest of his life, which will give us less trouble.”
As a medical professional, her calm demeanor was justified.
In Silver Hammer City, all hospitals were private.
All medical professionals, after undergoing high-end specialized training, were directly integrated into the existing medical system.
Citizens had to pay high medical insurance premiums and could only receive treatment with an insurance card linked to their identity ID.
In Silver Hammer City, all private clinics and doctors were illegal, but not everyone could afford the hefty health insurance fees.
Without insurance, even cold medicine couldn’t be bought.
Thus, private medical services emerged.
These services were often located in the black market and densely populated areas, not called hospitals but rather centers.
To avoid detection and prevent being shut down, genuine medical services were often mixed with foot massages, other sensual services, and so on.
Here, a girl in a s*xy vest, standing in the dirty corridors of a complex building, smoking and soliciting customers, could be a doctor trained by her father, saving lives in a white coat.
Unfortunately, it was illegal.
Countless ordinary people secretly conducted health transactions in the shadows.
These numerous illegal small centers protected the noble official hospitals, keeping the medical system in a bizarre yet not entirely hopeless state.
Of course, some patients were bribed by law enforcement to obtain evidence of private treatments and then reported it to the medical institutions for a reward.
Thus, in the long-term battle of wits and courage, almost all those engaged in underground medical practice were trained to be exceptionally hard-hearted.
Min Min, who came from the bottom, was a typical example.
Moreover, the patient she was treating was Shan Feibai.
She felt she had no reason or position to be soft-hearted.
The relationship between “Panqiao” and “Haina” was like water and fire, lasting for years.
To be precise, it was the old boss of “Panqiao,” Shan Feibai, and the second-in-command of “Haina,” Ning Zhuo, who were at odds.
As Ning Zhuo’s subordinate, they naturally stood by him without reservation.
She waited for Ning Zhuo’s decision.
Whether to abandon or to treat, it was up to Ning Zhuo, the one in charge of “Haina.”
Ning Zhuo responded with a “Hmm.”
Min Min: “‘Hmm’ means what?”
Ning Zhuo: “Half a month is too long.”
Min Min raised an eyebrow: “Alright. Got it.”
She grabbed the communicator and instructed Xiao Wen to create a model for Shan Feibai’s future liquid-metal vertebrae.
After ending the call, she turned to Ning Zhuo: “Your turn; take off your clothes.”
In addition to being a physician, Min Min was also a mechanic, specializing in maintaining Ning Zhuo’s prosthetics.
Ning Zhuo followed her instructions, pulling his shirt off with one hand.
His muscles were lean and well-defined, and his upper body was covered with old scars, many of which were life-threatening.
Yet among all these scars, the most prominent was a knife wound on his shoulder, entering from the back and directly penetrating to the front of the shoulder.
As Min Min studied his severed arm, Ning Zhuo’s left hand, covered in “Haina” tattoos, rested on his knee, his index finger gently tapping his knee.
The “Haina” tattoos used natural plant dyes and could be washed off with a special solution.
They served several purposes. First, they could clearly identify identity and organization and could be tattooed anywhere, even on the tailbone, if one didn’t mind the trouble and embarrassment.
Second, these tattoos acted as anti-counterfeiting marks for access; scanning them for entry or exit made them invalid after use, and new random patterns could be obtained if one needed to go out.
Even if someone tried to invade the “Haina” base and killed a member, using tattooed skin to deceive, once the tattooed skin was detected to have lost its vitality, the invader wouldn’t be leaving the mountain in one piece.
But the tattoo had a third use for Ning Zhuo.
—It could cover the distinctive bite mark on his left ring finger, which resembled a ring.
Ning Zhuo sat upright, accepting Min Min’s physical examination.
His waistline was attractive, with a pronounced curve, causing a gap in the back of his jeans that revealed a bit of underwear, though he was unaware of it himself.
The vigorous life force, like wild grass, contrasted subtly with his greenhouse-flower appearance, making it hard to look away.
At this moment, Ning Zhuo had a splitting headache, so when describing the events in the fire to Min Min, he was unusually brief.
Min Min responded with a few disinterested “hmm”s.
After all, Ning Zhuo had come back alive.
She was accustomed to dangerous situations and wasn’t interested in hearing about the most thrilling scenes.
As long as her patient returned to the base in one piece, she was content.
She paid more attention to Ning Zhuo’s complexion.
Once he finished, she reached out and touched his head: “Why are you running a fever again?”
“I went into the fire scene to rescue him…”
Ning Zhuo, with his hair damp from the fever, considered the cause and replied, “The temperature difference between inside and outside.”
Min Min glanced at the white candy stick protruding from his mouth: “Still low blood sugar?”
Ning Zhuo did not confirm or deny.
“Your constitution is too poor.”
After making a rather unscientific and careless judgment, Min Min started to scare him without medical ethics: “Be careful; you might not live past thirty.”
Ning Zhuo was unmoved: “Thank you for the kind words. Lao Fu used to say I wouldn’t live past eighteen.”
At twenty-eight, Ning Zhuo leaned his burning head back against the cold metal wall, trying to cool down.
Min Min snorted: “Have you told the boss? You’ve picked up a live ancestor for him.”
Ning Zhuo was already unusually irritable, and hearing this made him even more angry. He grabbed his severed arm and slammed it hard on the floor, creating a distant and terrifying echo in the corridor.
Min Min glanced at him, then threw a look at the arm on the floor: “Pick it up.”
Ning Zhuo fiercely got up, retrieved the severed arm, and carefully placed it back beside him.
Min Min examined the broken arm and calmly continued the conversation: “Did I make a mistake calling him a live ancestor?”
Ning Zhuo looked at her expressionlessly.
Min Min, equally fearless, met his gaze.
“You said you pulled him out of the fire,” Min Min continued pressing, “If you wanted to kill him, why not do it quietly? What’s the point of setting a fire?”
—
Author’s Note:
[Silver Hammer Daily]
“White Shield” Reminder:
Recently, the “White Shield” market management department has shut down and arrested several illegal clinic operators.
Due to the poor conditions and inadequate medical standards of these illegal clinics, they have caused extremely serious consequences.
Citizens are advised not to seek unauthorized medical treatment. Stay away from illegal clinics and go to the MasterCard Insurance Company to purchase legitimate insurance to ensure a reliable safety net for your life.
MasterCard Company Contact: 6293xxxxxx
MasterCard Insurance, Your Only Health Advisor, Dedicated to Serving You.
