POTINS 44

When the bodyguard called, Meng Chuan was on his way to the company.

He had just finished an interview and had an important meeting lined up. His schedule was tight, leaving no room for rest.

Sitting in the back seat, Meng Chuan leaned on one hand with his eyes closed, intending to take a short nap, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t fall asleep. His right eyelid kept twitching.

That was when his phone rang.

Seeing that the call was from the bodyguard, Meng Chuan’s heart skipped a beat—his instincts screamed that something was wrong.

He answered, and as soon as he heard what the bodyguard said, his expression changed dramatically.

“Where are you?” Meng Chuan sat upright with a jolt, a cold sweat breaking out on his back. His voice dropped to an icy tone he had never used before. “Send me your location.”

Just as he said that, Wen Zhongyi sent him a location sharing invite.

“Are you okay?” Meng Chuan knew Wen Zhongyi could hear him. Though frantic inside, he forced his voice to sound steady and reassuring. “Don’t be scared. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The bodyguard stepped hard on the gas. The scenery outside the window flew by in a blur, and Meng Chuan’s voice came clearly into Wen Zhongyi’s ears.

Wen Zhongyi’s brows were tightly furrowed, his heart racing. In the speeding, jolting car, he struggled to stay balanced and clenched his teeth. “I’m okay.”

Even as he spoke, Meng Chuan was signaling his driver to pull over. He quickly switched to the driver’s seat himself, turned the car around, and said in a low voice, “Wait for me.”

On the map, Wen Zhongyi’s location kept moving. The bodyguard had already driven nearly to the outskirts, but the white sedan still clung stubbornly behind.

“Mr. Wen,” the bodyguard warned, “I suspect they might try to ram us.”

Wen Zhongyi’s face went blank for a second. Before he could respond, Meng Chuan’s voice roared over the phone: “No! Don’t let them catch up! Drive faster—take the road to the east!”

Inside the black Bentley, Meng Chuan stared at the map with bloodshot eyes, his foot flooring the gas pedal. Veins bulged on his arms as he gripped the steering wheel, his entire body trembling uncontrollably.

Faster. Just a little faster!

He couldn’t let anything happen to Wen Zhongyi.

Meng Chuan hung up and immediately called the police. Then he redialed the bodyguard’s number, but the bodyguard had no time to answer.

The two vehicles on the map grew closer. Traffic had thinned out, pedestrians vanished, and the road became increasingly uneven. The tires hit gravel, and the car jolted violently.

Wen Zhongyi cradled his belly, his forehead slamming into the seat in front of him. His vision went dark.

He paused a couple seconds to recover, then glanced at the maze of roads on the map and told the bodyguard, “Get on the highway!”

“Hold on tight, Mr. Wen.” The bodyguard glanced at the rearview mirror, then sharply turned the wheel and headed toward the highway entrance.

The car felt like it was about to lift off the ground. Fortunately, Meng Chuan had equipped the bodyguard with a high-performance vehicle—no matter how hard the white car pushed, it still couldn’t catch up.

Just as they were about to merge onto the highway, the white sedan suddenly vanished from the rearview mirror.

The bodyguard frowned, a terrible realization hitting him: “This isn’t good.”

As if to confirm his suspicion, the white car reappeared—this time directly ahead of them.

A traffic officer at the highway toll blew his whistle, but the white car didn’t slow down. Instead, it accelerated straight toward them.

The reckless charge forced every car at the entrance to swerve aside. Wen Zhongyi shouted, “Left! Now!”

The bodyguard turned the wheel hard to the left. The tires screeched sharply against the pavement.

The vehicle shook violently. Wen Zhongyi was thrown against the seat, dazed but miraculously uninjured—only a bruise on his forehead.

But a direct collision would be different. The force of impact could never leave them unscathed.

Watching the white car speeding closer, Wen Zhongyi closed his eyes, despair flooding his heart.

A deafening crash!

Yet the expected collision never came.

Their car spun nearly 180 degrees. Wen Zhongyi opened his eyes and looked out the opposite window—only to see a scene that chilled him to the bone.

A black Bentley had come out of nowhere and slammed into the white sedan from the side. The violent force sent both cars skidding dozens of meters before finally coming to a halt.

It had happened too fast. Even the police sirens wailing in the distance couldn’t stop it in time.

…That was Meng Chuan’s car.

All the color drained from Wen Zhongyi’s face. He trembled as he unfastened his seatbelt and pushed open the door.

As soon as his feet touched the ground, his legs gave out. The bodyguard rushed forward to catch him, his own face pale. “Mr. Wen…”

The police quickly cordoned off the area. The two wrecked cars sat in the middle of the road, clouds of choking dust in the air.

The Bentley’s front hood was crushed, windshield shattered. Meng Chuan was pinned between the seat and the inflated airbag, eyes closed, completely unconscious. Blood streamed endlessly from his temple.

The white car’s driver was in worse shape. When pulled from the wreckage, he had no heartbeat. Paramedics had to perform CPR on the spot.

Wen Zhongyi got into the ambulance with Meng Chuan.

Inside the rushing vehicle, medical staff worked feverishly with emergency equipment.

Wen Zhongyi sat silently beside them, pale as death. His dark pupils seemed to have lost all focus—he looked like he could faint at any second.

But he was perfectly lucid. He didn’t panic, didn’t cry. He looked unusually calm, as though he’d long since gotten used to moments like this.

In Sanka, Meng Chuan had brushed with death many times. But every time, he’d pulled through.

This man was born lucky. Wen Zhongyi believed that with all his heart.

He forced himself to stay composed, clinging to that thought. But when he looked down at Meng Chuan’s unconscious face, the calm he’d managed to hold together crumbled all at once.

Wen Zhongyi took two deep breaths, but still couldn’t hold it back. He raised a hand to cover his face.

Meng Chuan was rushed into the emergency room. Wen Zhongyi, eyes red, stood motionless outside like a statue.

The bodyguard arrived soon after. He handed Wen Zhongyi a coat—and Meng Chuan’s phone, which had been left behind at the scene.

Wen Zhongyi reached out and took them, murmuring, “Thank you.”

The bodyguard opened his mouth, wanting to say something comforting. But in the end, all he managed was, “President Meng will be fine.”

Wen Zhongyi’s gaze dropped to the glossy white floor tiles as if he were lost in thought. A moment later, he gave a faint “Mm.”

The red light above the emergency room stayed lit for a long time. Wen Zhongyi stood for a while before slowly sitting down, back sore.

He felt cold all over. Even with the coat draped over him, the chill seemed to seep into his bones.

Suddenly, a ringtone broke the silence.

Instinctively, Wen Zhongyi pulled out the phone. It took him a moment to realize it was Meng Chuan’s phone ringing.

The call was from Ji Shu.

“Hey, Chuan’er? Where are you? Your secretary said you left the car mid-drive and ran off. She and the driver are still stranded by the road. She tried calling you, but the line’s been busy for ages and now she’s found me. The board meeting’s about to start—are you even—”

“It’s me,” Wen Zhongyi cut him off.

“Who is it, Zhongyi?” Ji Shu chuckled. “I had a feeling he went to find you. I was just thinking, if he didn’t answer soon, I was going to call you. So, hey, why don’t you let him—”

“Meng Chuan was in a car accident. He’s in surgery right now.”

“…What did you say?”

Completely unprepared, Ji Shu’s voice changed abruptly. “When did this happen? Which hospital?!”

“Just now, at the affiliated hospital,” Wen Zhongyi replied hoarsely.

Ji Shu and Ji Ying rushed over at top speed. Wen Zhongyi was sitting on a bench, lost in thought.

He didn’t even look up when he heard footsteps, immersed entirely in his own world. It wasn’t until Ji Ying’s palm landed on the top of his head that Wen Zhongyi lifted his eyes slightly.

“He’s going to be okay… he’s going to be okay…” Ji Ying had meant to comfort him, gently stroking his head, but once she started speaking, she choked up and couldn’t go on.

Beside them, Ji Shu was listening to the bodyguard recount what had happened. When he got to the end, he punched the hospital wall in fury, gritting his teeth. “That bastard Jiang Ming deserves to die!”

He knew Meng Chuan and Jiang Ming never got along, but that had always been business. He never imagined Jiang Ming would go so far as to target Wen Zhongyi in private.

If Wen Zhongyi had been in the accident, it might’ve been two lives lost.

Even without fatalities, once the ambulance arrived, Wen Zhongyi’s pregnancy would’ve been almost impossible to keep secret.

That’s why Meng Chuan had crashed into them without hesitation.

At least, for now, Wen Zhongyi was safe.

Under the harsh white lights, Wen Zhongyi’s side profile was pale and cold, his lashes drooping quietly. Both hands instinctively cradled his stomach.

Ji Shu glanced at him a few times, then looked away, unable to bear the sight.

Suddenly, the light above the operating room turned off.

Wen Zhongyi abruptly stood up, swaying slightly.

Ji Ying caught him and turned to the doctor. “How is he?”

Facing the crowd’s anxious eyes, the doctor removed his mask and said, “The surgery was a success. The patient is no longer in critical condition. The main injury was a head trauma—no damage to internal organs. He’ll still need a few days of observation in the ICU…”

The breath that had been caught in Wen Zhongyi’s chest finally released. He murmured, “That’s good… that’s good…”

The doctor continued speaking, but Wen Zhongyi felt his voice growing distant and muffled, fading in and out.

“Xiao Wen?” Ji Ying noticed something was wrong. She held him up in panic. “Xiao Wen! Stay with me!”

Wen Zhongyi collapsed backward with his eyes closed. Everyone nearby rushed to steady him and helped him onto the bench.

A nurse asked if he needed to be examined, but Ji Ying said, “No need, he just needs to rest.”

Wen Zhongyi’s whole body felt weak and numb. His vision went black. It took a long while before he could even regain a shred of awareness.

Meng Chuan was transferred to the ICU. Visitors weren’t allowed. There was nothing to do but wait.

The police also arrived at the hospital. This wasn’t a simple traffic accident—it was borderline attempted murder.

Meng Chuan was out of immediate danger, but the driver of the white car was in critical condition.

He wasn’t the photographer from before, but a broke gambler, someone willing to risk everything for money.

The bodyguard went with the police to the station. Ji Ying coaxed and cajoled Wen Zhongyi into going to her hospital instead.

She was afraid something might go wrong with his health. Only after running some tests did she finally relax.

Wen Zhongyi said he wanted to go back to Meng Chuan’s side, but Ji Ying refused and drove him home instead.

There was nothing to do at the hospital but wait. Wen Zhongyi’s condition was poor. If he didn’t rest properly, he’d fall apart.

“Meng Chuan’s incredibly lucky. I’m sure he’ll be out of the ICU in just a few days. You can visit then—right now, you need to get some proper sleep,” Ji Ying said while driving. “Besides, you’re carrying a baby. You need to take care of yourself. Imagine Meng Chuan wakes up and sees you looking like death—what if he passes out from heartbreak? You want that?”

She nagged for a long time, but Wen Zhongyi didn’t respond.

When they arrived at the villa, Ji Ying helped him inside, then decided to call Zhou Lu and gave her a brief rundown of the situation.

Wen Zhongyi sat on the living room sofa. His body was home, but his soul was still at the hospital. He didn’t even notice when Zhou Lu arrived.

The days that Meng Chuan spent in the ICU felt endless to Wen Zhongyi.

People came to visit, as if afraid he wouldn’t be able to handle it. Even their words were extra gentle.

Zhou Lu moved into the guest room next door and cooked different meals for him every day, never showing too much grief in front of him.

Wen Zhongyi felt everyone was overreacting. He wasn’t that fragile.

But if he said that aloud, people would only think he was putting on a brave face.

He stayed home, not going anywhere. Most of his time was spent staring blankly into space.

Sometimes he was thinking about Meng Chuan. Sometimes his mind was just… blank.

He remembered the night before the crash, when Meng Chuan had rested his head on his belly, talking to Xiao Liuyi, saying, “Daddy had a hard time carrying you, so you have to treat him well, love him very, very much.”

Then he thought of how both of them had crossed through time because of car accidents. His heart sank. He immediately called Ji Ying to confirm whether Meng Chuan was still in the ICU.

“He’s still there,” Ji Ying replied gently. “Don’t overthink it. I’ll tell you the moment he’s transferred out.”

It had only been three days since Meng Chuan was admitted, but to Wen Zhongyi, it felt like three months.

He followed his routine—eating and sleeping on time, walking outside, counting Xiao Liuyi’s heartbeats and fetal movements—going through the motions like a program.

As if Meng Chuan had only gone on a business trip, and would be back soon.

That day, when Yang Jiaran came to visit, he suddenly broke down, tears spilling uncontrollably.

“If only I hadn’t asked you to see a movie… none of this would’ve happened. I’m sorry, Zhongyi, I’m so sorry…”

He blamed himself and apologized to Wen Zhongyi in anguish.

But how could this be his fault?

Wen Zhongyi raised his arms to hug Yang Jiaran, speaking in a hoarse voice. “It’s not your fault. Don’t apologize.”

Wen Zhongyi didn’t know all the details of how the case was being handled. During dinner, Zhou Lu mentioned that Meng Chuan would only need to pay compensation—no other consequences.

The incident was kept under wraps. Only a few people knew. Meng Chuan’s work was temporarily handled by Meng Jun.

This hit Zhou Lu and Meng Jun hard. After all, four years ago, Meng Chuan had disappeared in a car crash. Now, history had repeated itself. The two of them were in no better shape than Wen Zhongyi.

Their panic and fear had nowhere to go, so all of it was directed at the mastermind, Jiang Ming.

“He won’t get away with it,” Meng Jun said to Wen Zhongyi.

Meng Chuan remained in intensive care for five days before being transferred to Ji Ying’s private hospital.

He was given a VIP room, luxuriously furnished, more like a hotel suite than a hospital.

When Wen Zhongyi arrived, Meng Chuan’s eyes were tightly closed.

Ji Ying said he had woken up once during the transfer—he was no longer unconscious, just asleep now.

His head was wrapped in gauze, and several cuts marked his handsome face—scratches from broken glass, already scabbed over.

His breathing was steady. He seemed to frown slightly in his sleep, as if he were dreaming.

Once the others left the room, Wen Zhongyi sat beside the bed.

He reached out and laced his fingers with Meng Chuan’s, studying his face carefully, not even blinking.

Only after his eyes had traced every inch of Meng Chuan’s features did Wen Zhongyi seem to believe that this man was truly still alive.

“You’ve been sleeping so long…” Wen Zhongyi brought Meng Chuan’s hand to his cheek, gently kissed his fingers, and let out a trembling breath. “Hurry and wake up. I miss you so much.”