Spellbound Hearts - Chapter 34 - He's Hurt

When Ji Xuan was mentioned, Qiu Lin’s face froze with awkwardness, and he hesitated to respond.

Song Zhaoli turned his head to look at him, his impatience evident. “She hasn’t come back?”

Sensing the brewing storm, Qiu Lin quickly replied, “She has. Manager Ji is back and currently at her apartment.”

Song Zhaoli gave a curt “Hmm.”

Qiu Lin continued cautiously, “I also sent the messages you asked me to. Manager Ji even added me on WeChat.”

Song Zhaoli, cigarette dangling from his lips, was about to bend down to get into the car when he paused and turned back. “Change your WeChat account.”

Qiu Lin blinked, confused. “Huh?”

Song Zhaoli got into the car, stretched his long legs in the back seat, and leaned forward slightly to avoid the bloodstains on his back touching the seat. His voice was low and commanding. “Give me your current WeChat account, and then create a new one for yourself.”

Qiu Lin looked reluctant but didn’t dare to refuse. “Understood.”

A few minutes later, Qiu Lin got into the driver’s seat and started driving toward Song Zhaoli’s villa.

After a while, Qiu Lin glanced at the rearview mirror and asked, “President Song, should I stop to get some medicine for you?”

Song Zhaoli’s jaw tightened. “No need.”

Having worked with Song Zhaoli for years, Qiu Lin was familiar with his temper. He hesitated but felt compelled to speak. “President Song, your injuries look serious. I really think you should get them treated. If not, it might-”

Before he could finish, Song Zhaoli’s cold gaze met his through the rearview mirror.

It was just a fleeting glance, but it carried a chill that made Qiu Lin shiver. He immediately shut his mouth and focused on driving.

A few minutes later, Song Zhaoli broke the silence. “Qiu Lin.”

“Yes, President Song?”

“Stop at a pharmacy and buy some medicine.”

Qiu Lin, thinking Song Zhaoli had finally come to his senses, smiled in relief. “Understood.”

Soon, the car stopped in front of a pharmacy. Qiu Lin got out to buy the medicine.

Inside the car, Song Zhaoli turned his head to watch the bustling traffic outside for a few moments before pulling out his phone. He opened WeChat and sent a message to Ji Xuan: What are you doing?

There was no reply.

He smirked faintly at the empty chat window and typed again: Ji Xuan, I’m hurt.

Still no response.

His fingers moved swiftly across the screen: Is the nursing home proposal ready? How long are you planning to take?

This time, Ji Xuan replied almost instantly: Should I send it to your email?

Good, he replied.

A soft “ding” sounded from his phone-not a WeChat notification, but an email.

Seeing Ji Xuan’s name in the sender field, he chuckled in exasperation. Exiting the chat, he opened the email.

The email contained not only the nursing home proposal but also a feasibility report.

To be honest, it was well done-far exceeding his expectations.

But that didn’t stop him from nitpicking.

His long fingers tapped the screen as he switched back to their chat: The proposal has some issues.

Ji Xuan replied: If it’s convenient, could you provide me with the project manager’s contact information? I’ll discuss the issues directly and make the necessary revisions.

I’m the project manager, he typed back. Meet me downstairs at your office in half an hour.

At that moment, Ji Xuan was sipping coffee. She glanced at her cup and thought wryly: The coffee isn’t bitter, but life sure is.

Half an hour later, Ji Xuan, nursing her “bitter” fate, appeared outside her office building, nursing home proposal and feasibility report in hand.

Spotting Qiu Lin standing by the car, she approached him. “Assistant Qiu.”

Qiu Lin maintained a calm expression, though he felt a wave of embarrassment recalling the earlier WeChat incident. “Manager Ji.”

“Is President Song in the car?”

“He is.”

With that, Qiu Lin quickly opened the car door for her.

Ji Xuan offered a polite smile in thanks and bent down to get in. As soon as she settled into her seat, a sharp, metallic scent hit her. She instinctively looked toward Song Zhaoli.

Their eyes met.

Song Zhaoli held a bag of wound care supplies in one hand, his lips curving into a faint, almost teasing smile. “Manager Ji, care to help me treat my wounds first? Then I’ll review your proposal.”