Em Chapter 17. Deterioration

By the time Xiao Mingxuan and Song Feng finished treating their wounds, it was already noon. They had been awake for more than twenty-six hours straight and finally took turns resting. Neither of them slept for long, as the danger had not yet passed.

Song Feng felt a bit dizzy. The pain in his left shoulder hadn’t eased at all. He looked over and asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Still manageable,” Xiao Mingxuan replied. The medication Shao Xiujie provided was quite effective. Their injuries were mostly flesh wounds. As long as there was no infection, they would be fine.

“I’m alright too,” Song Feng said, turning his gaze to the sea ahead. This stretch was a well-known tourist spot. The water was a clear, brilliant blue, and just looking at it made him feel a little better. “I think the Andaman Sea has a semi-diurnal tide. Think we’ll hit it in time?”

“Tides here can go up to over seven meters,” Xiao Mingxuan said as he kept the boat steady. “What, you don’t think this whole escape has been exciting enough?”

Song Feng didn’t answer. He slouched back on the boat, moving his left arm slightly to test it. Pain shot through his shoulder so sharply that his breath caught. He exhaled slowly and muttered, “I heard Fu Shanming got that cop in Thailand?”

Xiao Mingxuan understood what he meant and answered directly. “He’s a well-established trafficker in this region. He has good connections with the Golden Triangle and strong influence in both Thailand and Myanmar, especially in Thailand.”

Song Feng nodded. “Alor Setar is a border town. It’s close enough. No surprise he chose to expand there.”

“He’s probably already contacted people on the Thai side. With this boat’s range, we’re not making it to Myanmar. We’ll have to land in Thailand no matter what. Then what? Steal a car?”

“We’ll have to. If we get the chance, we should contact someone back home… wait, what about Yu Bai and the others?”

“He’s National Security. Don’t underestimate him,” Xiao Mingxuan said. “They probably already know what happened last night. If Fu Shanming starts moving people into Thailand, they’ll follow. We might run into them.”

Song Feng leaned against the edge of the boat. “Hope so. Then I can hand you off and go enjoy myself.” He narrowed his eyes, that signature wicked glint in them. “Thai ladyboys are fucking beautiful.”

“No matter how beautiful they are, they still have a dick. You into that?” Xiao Mingxuan looked at him. “I thought you only fucked women.”

“I mean, mostly yeah. But I don’t give a shit,” Song Feng said with a lazy grin. “As long as they can get me off, I don’t care what’s between their legs.”

Xiao Mingxuan didn’t respond at first, but remembered the rumors about how Second Young Master Song was a total pervert with no self-control, even his grandfather couldn’t do anything about him. Song Feng was still fantasizing aloud, sounding pleased with himself. “Once I ditch you, I’ll go hook up with a ladyboy—”

Xiao Mingxuan cut him off. “And just when your clothes are halfway off, Fu Shanming’s men kick the door in, drag your ass back, and he fucks you till you cry.”

Song Feng immediately shut up. After a pause, he sniffed and muttered, “Why the fuck am always the one getting fucked…”

Xiao Mingxuan didn’t answer. His eyes lingered. Song Fei was shirtless, lean and toned, his build taut and sexy. The low-rise camo pants sat low on his hips, revealing the edges of his pelvis. Any lower, and nothing would be left to the imagination. His combat boots were tossed aside, bare feet lazily propped on the boat. Those feet, rarely touched by sunlight, were pale and smooth. Never mind the face. Just this body alone could drive some people wild. For some reason, Xiao Mingxuan suddenly found himself remembering how it had felt that time in Myanmar.

Song Feng sensed his gaze and looked up. “What?”

Xiao Mingxuan jolted. “Nothing.” He kept his eyes forward and focused on steering, shoving those thoughts out of his head. A thin sheen of sweat formed on his forehead. Why the hell was he thinking about that now?

Song Feng didn’t notice anything strange. He moved his left arm again, then sighed, miserable. “Fuck, this is bad.”

Neither spoke for a while. After a long silence, Xiao Mingxuan glanced over. Song Feng was leaning on the side of the boat, right hand propped on the rail, head lowered in sleep. Xiao Mingxuan said nothing. The sun was starting to set. He adjusted course, steering toward a more secluded shoreline.

“Wake up. Time to go.”

Song Feng didn’t move.

Xiao Mingxuan suddenly felt uneasy. He rushed over and recoiled at the heat coming off him.

Song Feng blinked as a cool hand touched his forehead. He looked around. “We on land? Let’s go.” He tried to stand, but swayed. His dizziness had gotten worse.

Xiao Mingxuan caught him. “What’s going on—” He suddenly froze, then reached for the bandage on Song Feng’s left shoulder.

“Leave it,” Song Feng muttered, pulling away. “It’s probably infected. Let’s just go.”

“Glass?”

“Yeah,” Song Feng didn’t bother hiding it. “Feels like a shard snapped off inside.”

Xiao Mingxuan’s heart sank. The bastard had stabbed him hard enough to drive the glass into bone. If it snapped on impact, it might’ve nicked something serious. He picked up a T-shirt, carefully threading Song Feng’s left arm through the sleeve and helping him put it on. Then he crouched and helped him with his boots, tying the laces tight.

Song Feng glanced down at him. “What are you thinking?”

“Thinking where the hell I’m gonna dig that glass out.”

“Stop dreaming,” Song Feng muttered, and rubbed his fever-throbbing forehead. “We’re on the run. Where the hell are we going to get surgery?”

“If we don’t get that glass out, you can kiss that arm goodbye,” Xiao Mingxuan replied, already turning around. “Come here. I’ll carry you.”

“You’ve got injuries on your back too—”

“Shut up. This isn’t the time to waste breath.”

Song Feng paused for a moment, then finally reached out with his right hand and hooked it around Xiao Mingxuan’s neck.

“Don’t worry. I’m not dying anytime soon. Still got too much shit left to do.”

“You better not.”

“…”

The area was remote. Xiao Mingxuan carried him for half an hour before they finally reached a small road. He kept glancing back, hoping for a car to pass. The glow of sunset faded from the horizon when at last they managed to hitch a ride toward the city.

The driver was a local, who thought they were just stranded tourists and let them on out of kindness. But as soon as he caught sight of the bloodied bandages under Xiao Mingxuan’s vest, his expression changed. He realized these two weren’t ordinary travelers, but it was too late to kick them out. Still, he drove the whole way on edge, nervously searching for excuses to ditch them.

Xiao Mingxuan was focused entirely on Song Feng’s condition, damn near tempted to pull a gun and force the guy to drive. Luckily, Song Feng kept stopping him.

They made it a bit further. Finally, the driver stammered that they’d reached his home and he couldn’t take them any farther. But this area was busy enough. Taxis would be easy to find.

Xiao Mingxuan didn’t want to push the driver any further. He offered a quiet thank-you, then helped Song Feng out of the car and flagged down another taxi. His plan was to head for a small, inconspicuous clinic, but Song Feng immediately rejected the idea. He said there would be too many people, too much noise. A place like that was bound to attract attention. It would be safer to find a pharmacy, pick up the disinfectant, painkillers, a pair of forceps if possible, and then take care of the wound in a hotel room.

Xiao Mingxuan gave in without further argument.

“Wait here,” he said. “I’ll be quick.”

Song Feng nodded and leaned back, eyes drifting to the surrounding buildings. Nothing seemed out of place at first glance. He let out a shallow breath, about to close his eyes for a moment, when something caught his attention. He turned back sharply and narrowed his eyes at the café across the street.

A man was seated by the window, his gaze locked on the pharmacy. One hand held two photographs. The other held a small pair of binoculars.

Song Feng’s lips curled into a cold smile. It had only been eight hours since they left Shao Xiujie. That was more than enough time to mobilize an operation. Fu Shanming must have sent the order already. By now, every clinic and pharmacy in Thailand was likely under surveillance.

He pulled some cash from his pocket, paid the driver, and stepped out. Staying in the car was no longer an option. If those men called ahead to set up a blockade, they’d be trapped.

Xiao Mingxuan exited the pharmacy just then and looked up. “You—”

“Don’t talk,” Song Feng interrupted him. He started walking down the street, keeping his pace steady. “Check behind us. Anyone following?”

Xiao Mingxuan glanced past the parked cars, using their windows as cover. “Yes. Three men. Two just joined the one behind us.”

Song Feng’s face was pale with fever, but his voice remained calm. “They’re probably Fu Shanming’s men. We can’t let them walk away. Figure out how to take them out.”

Xiao Mingxuan nodded. They walked another block before he suddenly turned into a narrow alley. Once around the corner, he pressed Song Feng against the wall and scanned the path ahead.

“Don’t fire,” he said. “No suppressor on the gun.”

“I know.”

Song Feng leaned into the shadows, one hand braced against the wall. His breath was uneven. The heat was making his head spin. Behind them, quiet footsteps echoed in the alley. Xiao Mingxuan’s hand tightened around the combat knife at his side.

He took one out the moment they turned the corner. But with wounds all over his upper body, every movement pulled at the injuries, reopening them like torture all over again.

The remaining two froze when they saw how easily he had taken down their companion. One of them noticed Song Feng standing behind Xiao Mingxuan with his head bowed. As he fought, the man began inching in that direction, trying to seize the seemingly vulnerable target.

Xiao Mingxuan’s eyes went cold. He deliberately opened a gap, and just as the man rushed toward Song Feng, he struck fast. The blade flashed and ended his life on the spot.

The last man had been lurking at the back, waiting for an opening. He panicked at the sight, stumbling back and falling to the ground.

“Don’t—don’t come any closer…”

Xiao Mingxuan didn’t waste time with words. Gripping the combat knife, he moved in.

Song Feng glanced over. The man’s hands were hidden behind his back as he backed away, inching toward the wall in desperation. His face was a mask of terror. Then, in a flash, his right wrist twitched.

Song Feng’s pupils shrank. Years of real combat had sharpened his instincts, and the moment he sensed danger, his body moved on its own. He lunged forward and shoved Xiao Mingxuan out of the way.

A gunshot rang out.

Xiao Mingxuan whipped around, a chill shooting down his spine. He saw Song Feng stumble, then drop to the ground as if the strength had drained from his limbs.

His mind went blank. Then rage surged through him. He plunged the knife into the man’s throat. The man twitched twice before going limp. His right hand flopped open, revealing a small black palm-sized pistol. Low caliber, short range, meant for killing at close quarters.

Xiao Mingxuan stumbled over and dropped to his knees.

“Song… Feng…”

Song Feng wanted to say he wouldn’t die, that there was no way he would die in a place like this. But the bullet had gone straight into his chest. Blood rushed up his throat and spilled from the corner of his mouth.

A bullet to the lung meant massive blood loss or drowning in his own fluids. And this one came from a palm pistol. The bullets were probably lead. Lead poisoning could kick in fast…

He didn’t dare finish the thought.

“Song Feng, don’t die… don’t die… you said there were still so many things you needed to do…” Xiao Mingxuan’s hands trembled as he tried to lift him. In the dark, he couldn’t even make out his face.

He had been born into privilege, always one step above others. He held himself to high standards, and while not perfect, he had always been stronger, more capable than most. But never had he felt so powerless, so utterly useless, as he did now. If only he had been stronger, just a little stronger, maybe this man wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Maybe he never would have been taken by Fu Shanming in the first place.

He had always been the one in control. But that bullet had shattered everything he thought he was.

Song Feng’s vision blurred. In a daze, he felt something warm land on his skin, like drops of liquid. He tried to lift his hand to see, but his body no longer obeyed. The world spun, tilted, and then everything went black.