Chapter 109: Brain Research

"I have been studying human skulls recently. Based on my observations back at the villa, your physical condition is certainly not as simple as the hospital reports suggest. Logically, a pain in the back of the head like that cannot be caused by a simple fall. Is it possible you underwent brain surgery in the past? The most likely scenario is that this pain is a lingering effect from a long coma you experienced before waking up.

I haven't finished my research yet, but if you don't trust others, you can trust me. I am the only one capable of standing up to the Fu family; no one else has the courage or the ability."

He strained his voice, enduring the bone-deep agony, to articulate these words clearly.

Zhong Huayan was stunned. She touched the back of her head, feeling a sense of disbelief. "Then... I will ask my brother one day if I ever had any surgery."

"This is just a hypothesis; I need more research to determine the exact cause. But the way your head aches on rainy days is typically classified as a sequela. It is definitely not a minor injury, and it certainly wasn't sustained within the last year."

Zhong Huayan narrowed her eyes, watching the young man in front of her, who was coughing incessantly, his face slightly distorted by pain.

"Alright, I understand. You keep researching. Don't worry, no matter what, I will provide you with the books and information you need. You just need to figure this out. If I get the chance, I’ll go to the hospital and get a CT scan for you."

Xu Chuyin grabbed the woman as she was about to leave and whispered, "Are you going to send me back to my country to face justice?"

"You did something wrong."

The young man looked at the woman’s resolute expression and nodded with a hint of doting affection. Though his eyes were obscured by messy hair, a trace of tenderness was still visible.

"Yes. It’s fine, I’m not afraid. I will help you look into it. Even if the Fu family tries their best to stop it, no one can stand in the way of this."

Zhong Huayan found herself admiring him. He dared to take responsibility for his actions. If he hadn't taken the wrong path in life, he might have become someone significant.

In the dark room across the hall, the assistant and the doctor leaned against the wall, trembling. From their angle, they could clearly see the interaction between the two on the monitor; they looked quite intimate, whispering to each other.

Fu Yanyan had not yet put on his shirt. His broad shoulders were still wrapped in gauze, extending from his shoulder blades down to his waist. Had the doctor not restrained him earlier, he would have slashed his own throat just to remind himself not to lose control again. The wounds on his body were all self-inflicted; he was torn between jealousy and a hatred for his own uncontrollable violence. The inner turmoil grew more severe by the moment.

He wore the monitoring headset, a cigarette held between his fingers. He took a light drag, his expression becoming increasingly inscrutable amidst the swirling smoke. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the table.

Inside the headset, there was only a rustling sound; because the two were standing so close, their conversation remained unclear.

"Go, take some alcohol and salt water and dress that little beast's wounds. No anesthesia, and no painkillers."

After a pause, he added with a faint, self-mocking tone, "Since Ah-Hua cares about him so much, we mustn't let him die. Apply plenty of medicine; it helps with the recovery."

The doctor understood perfectly; he would ensure the medicine was applied in the most brutal way possible. The assistant shivered, grateful it wasn't him, or he would have fainted from the pain.

In the dim room, the sound of the man clicking his prayer beads was unnaturally loud, carrying a lingering, unconquerable sorrow. Finally, his icy fingers touched the keyboard and shut off the monitoring equipment.

"My Ah-Hua, when will you stop being so curious? Curiosity killed the cat."

His voice sounded helpless and self-deprecating.

A moment later, a message arrived on his phone: [A-Yan, I’ll cook for you tonight, how about that?]

Fu Yanyan stared at the message, wondering if the sun had risen in the west. The fleeting joy that welled up in his heart vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He mocked himself, thinking she must surely want to ask for a favor. Yet, he savored the words, feeling a warmth in his heart.

He turned to his assistant and ordered, "Go check on the Madam. She says she’s cooking dinner herself today."

Fu Yanyan felt a sharp pang of pain in his chest, likely because they were not truly husband and wife. Even the word "Madam" felt awkward and painful to utter. Yet, he cherished it; he wanted to call her that, and he wanted everyone else to address her that way too.

The assistant breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing how hard his boss had been gripping his cigarette earlier, he had feared another storm was brewing. Fortunately, the young woman knew how to handle him; now that she had brought up cooking, his love-struck boss wouldn't be able to resist.

At that moment, Zhong Huayan was already busy in the kitchen. To be honest, she didn't know how to cook. But she had watched the housekeeper earlier and was a quick learner.

Last time, she noticed Fu Yanyan enjoyed fish, so, despite the immense difficulty, she had scraped the scales off and placed the fish on a plate, intending to steam it.

Estimating the time, she reached out to move the plate as the steam rose. The housekeeper, who had only looked away for a second, was terrified and rushed to stop her... but Zhong Huayan had already been scalded.

"Ah... sss..."

Just as she was about to put her finger in her mouth, a figure behind her quickly pulled her hand under cold running water and began applying ointment with a cotton swab.

Fu Yanyan’s brow was furrowed, his eyes fixed on her as he treated the burn. "Why are you so careless?" he asked with a tone of reproach, gently blowing on her hand after applying the medication.

"It's fine, this is just a small injury, no need to worry."

Fu Yanyan was about to speak, but when he saw the bruises covering her porcelain-white collarbone, his heart twisted with pain. Just as he was about to express his apology, he saw her pull her hand away.

The moment she turned her head, the tenderness in his eyes vanished, replaced by an icy coldness. "Fire the housekeeper."

The words were spoken casually, but they felt like a winter wind—soft, yet biting. The housekeeper, terrified, dropped the vegetables and looked toward the stunned woman for help.

"A-Yan, why?"

Zhong Huayan was soft-hearted. She continued, "What does this have to do with her?"

Fu Yanyan wrapped his arms around her waist, looking poised and elegant, his grip perfectly firm. The dzi bead on his neck brushed against her ear, cool to the touch. He laughed softly.

"Because she didn't watch over you properly, which is why you got hurt."

"No, it was my own fault. Please don't fire her. Look, A-Yan, this is the steamed fish she taught me how to make."