Plunder-Chapter 53 - No Way to Die No Way to Live

Chapter 53: Chapter 53: No Way to Die, No Way to Live

Chapter 53 -53: No Way to Die, No Way to Live

Yaoyao was the illegitimate daughter of Nie Daojun, who had been fostered in Hong Kong, a fact he had never mentioned to anyone.

Now that Zhou Jin’an had found Yaoyao, the matter was no longer a secret.

That person would find out sooner or later.

Nie Daojun was unclear about Zhou Jin’an’s methods, but he had seen what that person was capable of.

So, even if it meant sacrificing his own wretched life, he had to keep his lips sealed.

Zhou Jin’an’s sleek face was tinged with intense cruelty; his thin lips pressed into a cold, merciless arc.

“If you can’t speak, then write.”

Once he spoke, he moved his slender legs toward the sofa and sat down in the shadows.

That overwhelming sense of oppression radiated outwards from him.

He sat there, legs crossed like a pair of scissors, stabbing straight into Nie Daojun’s heart and lungs.

Yet, he found neither the door to death nor the path to survival.

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Cheng Lu threw a pen and paper to Nie Daojun, loosening the bindings on his hands; he still gripped the back of Nie Daojun’s neck, his voice terrifyingly deep.

“Every debt has its debtor, Director Zhou is after that person. If you don’t know what’s good for you and want to be a scapegoat, do you think he would spare your daughter? Tell us who it is, and not only will Director Zhou ensure your daughter’s safety, but he can also reunite you and your daughter to enjoy familial bliss. To write or not to write, you’d better think it through. If you offend Director Zhou, you and your daughter can only meet on the road to the Yellow Springs.”

After Cheng Lu finished speaking, he let go, and Nie Daojun’s head plunged straight to the concrete floor.

The room was extremely quiet, with not a sound to be heard.

Zhou Jin’an leaned back on the sofa, his back straight, his expression somber. One hand rested on the armrest, with the veins on the back of his hand bulging, snaking down each finger.

Nie Daojun stuck out his butt like an ostrich, his entire face pressed against the ground, motionless as if petrified.

Cheng Lu’s fists clenched tightly, his sharp eyes fixed on Nie Daojun.

The waiting time was the most excruciating, a psychological battle was being fought.

One wrong move and all was lost.

Time ticked by, and about ten minutes later, Zhou Jin’an suddenly stood up.

The silence in the room was shattered.

He walked toward the door, his footsteps swift, stirring a whirlwind that swept through Nie Daojun’s heart.

Cheng Lu was cracking his knuckles, ready for action.

Nie Daojun jolted awake, suddenly raising his head.

“I’ll write, I’ll write, I’ll write!”

Zhou Jin’an halted at the doorway, not looking back.

In panic, Nie Daojun grabbed the pen and swiftly wrote a word on the paper: An.

“Director Zhou, you keep your word.”

Cheng Lu snatched the paper and handed it to Zhou Jin’an.

He looked at it briefly, his face showing no change as he walked away with heavy, reverberating footsteps, leaving a trail of alarming sounds.

…

The taxi carrying Qiao En broke down two kilometers from the hospital.

It was the peak of rush hour, and the road was clogged with traffic.

The driver was in a foul mood, cursing as he pounded the steering wheel.

Qiao En had a headache, unwilling to wait or to listen to the driver’s complaints.

She gave the driver an extra hundred yuan, pulled the car door open, and walked away.

That walk took nearly half an hour.

When she arrived at the inpatient department, it was almost 9:30 am.

Qiao En carried breakfast to Qiao De’s ward, but he wasn’t there.

The nurse reminded her that he had been taken for a CT scan of the lungs half an hour earlier.

Qiao En set down the breakfast and took the elevator up to deliver the rest of the breakfast to Qiao’s father.

However, just as the elevator doors opened, she froze in shock.

The hallway was bustling, crowded with people, each craning their necks to see what was happening.

“Excuse me, let me through, please.”

Qiao En squeezed through the crowd and moved forward, the sounds growing louder as she approached.

“If you don’t hand over the person today, none of you will live.”

A shrill female voice echoed from the ward where Qiao’s father was staying. Qiao En faintly heard crying as well, the voice all too familiar.

At the entrance of the ward, it was three layers inside and three layers outside of onlookers. Qiao En, carrying the breakfast, pushed her way through.

Someone shouted, “That bitch is here.”

Before Qiao En could react, a hand from behind gave her a forceful shove, and she stumbled forward.

She had bought porridge and dumplings for Qiao’s father, which fell to the ground, with the porridge and dumplings spilled all over.

“You slut, you won’t die a good death!”

Before Qiao En could stand up, a plump middle-aged woman grabbed her hair, hurling extremely nasty curses at her.

Qiao En’s knees hit the ground hard, and she couldn’t get up for a while.

She glared at the stranger, whose face was grotesquely transformed by plastic surgery, full of science and ruthless labor—she didn’t recognize her.

Qiao En was at a disadvantage, quite embarrassed, but her face still maintained a composed expression.

“Sister, is there some kind of misunderstanding between us?”

“Misunderstanding? You bitch seduced my husband and almost killed him, and you speak of a misunderstanding to me?”

The woman was crude, cursing wasn’t enough for her, so she swung out her hand to slap Qiao En.

Qiao En was caught off guard and got slapped.

She realized that this was Qiu Zeming’s wife, here to settle scores with her.

When she hit Qiao En, Qiao En’s mother was terrified.

She suddenly rushed over and tightly grasped the woman’s arm.

She was a frail person, not used to turbulence, always inclined to cry when confronted with problems.

At that moment, she knelt down with a “plop” in front of the woman, her face full of tears, pleading on behalf of Qiao En, “If you have to hit someone, hit me. I should die; it’s my fault for not raising my daughter well.”

“Mom, it’s not like she said, why are you kneeling for her? Get up!”

Qiao En was immobile; she sternly tried to stop her mother.

But Qiao En’s mother was already scared out of her wits; all she wanted was to calm the situation down.

“It’s my fault, I should die!”

She raised her hand and astonishingly started hitting her own face.

Qiao En’s father in the hospital bed, unable to control his agitation, kept hitting the bedboard with one hand, crying out in anger, his blood pressure skyrocketing.

No one stepped forward to stop it; the onlookers were mostly indifferent, and some even kicked her when she was down.

“Whore, you got what you deserved!”

“You filthy slut, death is too good for you!”

…

“Mom, stop it.”

Qiao En’s eyes were bloodshot as she struggled to stop her mother from hurting herself.

The woman, gripping Qiao En’s hair, forcefully dragged her out of the hospital room. She was strong, dragging Qiao En out the door.

“Everyone, take a good look, this is the vixen who seduced my husband, she wanted to climb upwards, and when she didn’t succeed, she schemed for wealth and attempted murder. My husband is still lying in the ICU, his life hanging by a thread, tell me, does she deserve to die or not?”

Qiao En had never been humiliated like this before; she faced up, with nowhere to hide, passively receiving hostility from all sides.

“Go die, you whore!”

Those people didn’t know her, nor did they know about her feud with Qiu Zeming; they were just emotionally stirred by this woman, blindly righteous in their indignation.

And just like that, Qiao En became a rat running across the street.

Just as the noise reached its peak, a clear and powerful voice echoed from the other end of the hallway.

“Let’s see who has the gall to make trouble on my turf?”

Before the echo faded, Ding Hao appeared in front of Qiao En, cutting through the crowd.

He was dressed in his white coat, looking tall and handsome, but his beguiling eyes hid a deadly intent.

He quickly walked over, reaching out and grabbing the woman’s wrist.

“Ouch, ouch, ouch…”

The woman’s face twisted in pain, her fingers loosened, and Qiao En was free.

She turned and ran into the hospital room without pause, embracing her mother in a tight hug.

“Mom.”

Qiao En’s mother cried, and Qiao En’s tears also started to flow.

Disaster should not reach family members, yet their opponent insisted on stabbing at her heart.

Outside the door, Ding Hao held the woman’s hand even tighter, his narrow eyes scanning the crowd of onlookers, his voice neither light nor heavy.

“So you like to watch the commotion? Don’t want to get treated anymore, do you?”

Ding Hao was a specialist the hospital recruited to tackle difficult and unusual diseases; these people were desperate to get an appointment with him. Who would dare offend him over someone else’s drama?

Then there were the sounds of one hospital door after another closing, and in an instant, the corridor was devoid of people.

Qiu Zeming’s wife came here to make a scene, intending to blow things up.

But Ding Hao’s arrival spoiled her plot.

Not knowing her place, she yelled at the top of her lungs, “The doctor’s hitting me! The doctor’s hitting me!”

She called out energetically, and Ding Hao didn’t stop her, letting her scream.

That was until the elevator doors opened, and four or five security guards rushed out.