In the president’s office.
Yan Han held his phone, looking at a photo of Pei Lang. His fingers gently caressing the radiant, smiling face in the picture.
His lips curved slightly and his eyes softened with tenderness. He missed Pei Lang deeply and often looked at things related to him.
When his wife was around, Yan Han never worked overtime. But now that his wife was away filming in another city and the company was his own, going home only meant being alone. So, late into the night, Yan Han remained at his desk.
Suddenly, a sharp and urgent knock sounded on the door. Yan Han frowned, set down his phone, and said, “Come in.”
Su Jia pushed the door open and walked in quickly, his expression sorrowful, not daring to lift his head to look at Yan Han. “Boss, something happened to the Rot production crew.”
His voice trembled as he spoke, his throat tight with fear.
The moment the words fell, Yan Han felt a sharp pain in his chest. He stood up from his wheelchair abruptly. “Lang Lang was hurt?”
“Yes.” Su Jia lowered his head even further. “He’s already been sent to the nearest and most reputable hospital in the area… for emergency treatment.”
The two words “emergency treatment” came out with great difficulty. Upon hearing them, Yan Han’s body swayed as though the sky was collapsing. He ignored whether there were employees outside and walked straight out.
Su Jia had already booked a plane ticket as soon as he heard the news. On the way to the airport, he explained the situation he knew. The more he talked, the heavier the atmosphere became. It felt suffocating, as though the air had been sucked out of the car. First, because Yan Han was terrifying—his aura seemed capable of overturning the world. Second, because Su Jia was deeply worried about Pei Lang. Forget about Yan Han; even Su Jia felt fear and heartache when he heard the news, terrified that Pei Lang might never wake up again.
The production crew had sent Pei Lang to the hospital for emergency treatment as soon as the incident occurred. They sealed the news and reported it to the company. By the time Su Jia got the information, it had already passed through several hands.
When Yan Han arrived in his wheelchair, Pei Lang was still undergoing emergency treatment. Lu Lu’s eyes were red from crying. When he saw Yan Han arrive, he didn’t dare make a sound. Outside the operating room, the director, the producer, and others were waiting anxiously. None of them had expected Yan Han to show up.
Such incidents typically wouldn’t alarm someone like Yan Han, which made it clear how close their relationship was. Because of this, everyone outside the operating room was terrified, nearly falling to their knees in fear.
Pei Lang was still undergoing emergency treatment. Yan Han waited steadfastly, his eyes fixed on the door of the operating room. He left everything else for Su Jia to handle—at this moment, the only thing that mattered was praying for Pei Lang’s safety. Everything else could be dealt with later.
Yan Han was indeed a figure feared by everyone, but even he had his vulnerabilities. Anything related to Pei Lang could render him fragile. No one dared to look at him directly, so they failed to notice his reddened eyes. His deep, dark pupils brimmed with unshed tears, revealing the fear and heartache buried within.
He was terrified of losing Pei Lang.
From night until the early hours of the morning, after six to seven hours, the surgery finally concluded. Pei Lang was transferred to the intensive care unit. Fortunately, the shooter was an actor who, as per the script, fired at Pei Lang’s heart. Lacking any real experience with firearms, the shot deviated from its mark, allowing Pei Lang to be saved.
If the shooter had been someone with proper shooting experience, they might not have been so lucky.
When the exhausted doctor announced that Pei Lang was no longer in immediate danger, the tension gripping Yan Han finally eased a little. The director and producer, who had been waiting with bated breath, also let out sighs of relief, wiping the cold sweat from their foreheads.
Though Yan Han couldn’t enter the ICU yet, he stood by the glass window, looking inside. Pei Lang had lost all his usual radiance. His small face was deathly pale and he lay motionless on the hospital bed.
Just a little more and he would have lost him.
Suppressing his emotions, Yan Han’s anger erupted in full force at that moment.
That night, the entire production crew was turned upside down. From the director to the temporary staff, everyone was investigated. Fear hung heavy in the air. Everyone spilled whatever they knew.
The primary suspect was quickly identified as the masked man.
Upon reviewing the recruitment records, it became evident that this man was not officially hired. This meant that the crew had been negligent, allowing someone who shouldn’t have been there to slip in. Moreover, the props team had failed to double-check the crucial prop multiple times. These oversights needed to be thoroughly investigated.
As for the masked man, Yan Han would never let him off the hook. Whoever was behind the scheme would have to pay the price.
News of Pei Lang’s injury and his connection with Yan Han was kept under the tightest secrecy. Not a single word leaked outside. The Rot production crew had already been through a storm of upheaval.
After the accountability process, many people were dismissed, and the crew underwent a complete reshuffle.
Pei Lang remained unconscious on the hospital bed for a full week, showing no signs of waking up. Once he was moved to a general ward, Yan Han stayed by his side constantly. Most matters were handled by Su Jia, while Qi Shaoheng held down the fort at the company, ensuring that operations were unaffected.
Pei Lang regained consciousness on the tenth day.
It was an overcast morning with poor weather. Autumn had arrived, and the sky was thick with clouds. At 9 a.m., it was still so dark that it gave the illusion of early dawn.
A faint pain throbbed from his wound and his limbs felt stiff and numb. The nurse had likely already been in, as a fresh IV was attached to his veins. Pei Lang’s eyelids felt heavy, but he managed to open them with effort. The first thing he saw was a pure white ceiling. Looking around confirmed that he was in a hospital.
Fragments of what had happened before he lost consciousness gradually came back to him. Pei Lang tugged at the corners of his mouth in a faint smile and thought, So, I survived.
Outside the door, someone was on the phone. Pei Lang couldn’t make out the details of the conversation, but he immediately recognized the voice—it was Yan Han. Relief at having survived was quickly replaced by an ache in his chest. His nose stung with the urge to cry upon hearing Yan Han’s voice.
The door opened, and Yan Han stepped in. His steps faltered when he saw Pei Lang’s dark, clear eyes staring back at him. Then, exhaustion and weariness gave way to a smile on his haggard face as he hurried to Pei Lang’s side. “Lang Lang.”
“Husband…” Pei Lang’s voice was weak. Yan Han’s heart ached as he immediately called for the doctor. Only after the doctor had checked Pei Lang’s condition and reassured him did Yan Han finally sit down.
“The doctor said now that you’re awake, you can start eating normally. What would you like?” Yan Han adjusted the bed so Pei Lang could sit up, helping him into a more comfortable position.
Yan Han’s eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles etched beneath them. His face was covered in stubble. He looked completely different from his usual polished self. It was clear he had endured both physical and emotional torment these past days.
Although Pei Lang’s body felt uncomfortable, he tried his best to comfort Yan Han. He forced a smile and spoke in a lighthearted tone. “I want to eat everything. I’ll listen to you. Husband… you haven’t shaved your stubble. Come closer so I can touch it and see if it’s prickly.”
His smile was like a knife to Yan Han’s heart. Yan Han guided Pei Lang’s hand to touch his face and jaw. He could tell Pei Lang was only trying to keep him from worrying. Even lying in a hospital bed, his wife was thinking about how to make him happy. How could Yan Han not be moved? “Still such a foodie. I’ll have Aunt Lin come over today—she knows your tastes best.”
“Okay~” Pei Lang nodded obediently, his hand playfully rubbing against Yan Han’s face. The stubble was indeed prickly, scratching his palm slightly. But he loved the sensation.
His fingers unintentionally brushed against the corner of Yan Han’s eyes, feeling a warm, damp sensation. The touch made Pei Lang pause. As he tried to look closer, Yan Han lowered his head and buried his face in Pei Lang’s palm, hiding from view.
Yan Han was crying, silently, but the tears had undoubtedly reddened and soaked his eyes.
Pei Lang’s heart clenched painfully at the sight.
He let Yan Han bury his face in his palm, allowing the tears to dampen his hand. During the days Pei Lang had been unconscious, Yan Han’s nerves had been stretched taut. He had stayed by Pei Lang’s bedside constantly, not daring to sleep at night for fear that Pei Lang might wake up and feel scared if he didn’t see him there. It wasn’t until this moment that the heavy weight in Yan Han’s heart finally lifted. Though Pei Lang was the one injured, Yan Han felt as if he had narrowly escaped death himself, as if he had experienced his own rebirth.
“It’s okay now, isn’t it? I’m awake. They say great misfortunes lead to blessings—I’m sure we’ll get to grow old happily together from now on.”
Yan Han: … (continues crying)
“You probably haven’t slept well these past few days, have you? The bed’s big enough. Let me scoot over a bit and you can lie down and rest for a while.”
Yan Han hesitated, forcing himself to speak through his tears. “I’m too big. I might crowd you.”
“You won’t, you won’t. I can sleep in your arms, and then we won’t have to worry about being crowded,” Pei Lang replied in a tone as if coaxing a child. Yan Han stopped crying but raised his head with red-rimmed eyes, visibly conflicted.
Seeing this, Pei Lang deliberately put on a pitiful expression. “Husband, I miss you. I miss sleeping in your arms. My wound is on my chest, just avoid it. It’s really fine.”
Yan Han couldn’t resist when Pei Lang spoke to him like this. He was already exhausted, worried, and filled with longing. After only a brief hesitation, he took off his shoes, climbed onto the bed, and carefully lay down beside Pei Lang, wrapping him gently in his arms.
Yan Han fell asleep shortly after, utterly drained. Pei Lang lay with his back to him, feeling Yan Han’s warm breath tickling the back of his neck. It was a little itchy, but also comforting. A sense of happiness slowly filled his heart, as if the bullet hole in his chest was gradually being healed.
Having slept for so long, Pei Lang couldn’t fall asleep again. Worried about disturbing Yan Han’s rest, he remained completely still, staring ahead as he fell into deep thought. When the nurse came in to replace his IV drip, she noticed the scene on the bed and moved quietly, careful not to make any noise.
Meanwhile, Su Jia had proven his efficiency. He had tracked down the suspicious individual who had appeared on set.
It was a man diagnosed with uremia not long ago—a condition that had drained his savings entirely. The illness cost him his job. In desperation to continue treatment, he accepted someone’s offer to commit murder.
Without money, the man was left to await death. Taking such a risk was, in his view, worth it for a slim chance at life and a kidney transplant. When apprehended, the man showed no signs of panic, readily confessing his actions but refusing to reveal who had hired him.
The nature of his illness required frequent dialysis to sustain his life. Until the mastermind was caught, the man couldn’t be allowed to die. His stubborn silence left Su Jia frustrated, and he reported the situation to Yan Han. However, since Pei Lang hadn’t yet woken up, Yan Han couldn’t personally intervene at the time.
What was certain, though, was that the person behind this was no ordinary figure. They clearly harbored an intense hatred for Pei Lang. Although many disliked Pei Lang, only a select few would go so far as to plot his death. Yan Han had a good idea of who it might be, but solid evidence was needed—only with irrefutable proof could he ensure the culprit could never recover from this.
Yan Han slept deeply, only waking in the afternoon.
When he opened his eyes, he saw Pei Lang fiddling with his fingers out of boredom. His obedient yet frail appearance could melt anyone’s heart. Yan Han covered Pei Lang’s hand with his own. “Have you taken your medicine?”
“Mm~ After you fell asleep, the nurse finished the IV and made me take it. It was bitter.”
“When you’ve recovered, I’ll accompany you to eat whatever you want.”
“…” Pei Lang shifted slightly, turning to face Yan Han. “Did the doctor say when I can leave the hospital? When will I be fully recovered? Is the film still being shot?”
The eager look in Pei Lang’s eyes clearly showed he was desperate to get discharged and return to filming.
Yan Han felt both helpless and heartbroken. “The filming has been paused. It will only resume once you’re fully recovered.”
“Okay, then.”
“Your job now is to focus on recovering. You need to heal properly to avoid any long-term complications. Otherwise, you won’t be able to do any physically demanding scenes in the future.”
Though he had narrowly escaped death, Pei Lang’s chest injury remained serious. If complications arose, strenuous activities might become impossible. Yan Han’s words were meant to encourage Pei Lang to rest and recover obediently.
The thought of not being able to perform action scenes felt like a death sentence to Pei Lang. His expression turned serious. “I’ll make sure to rest well.”
“I’ve already told Aunt Lin to bring over some meals.”
“Okay~”
