Don't Touch Me

Meanwhile, Tang Qiao retraced her steps, following her memory on the way back home.

The alley she walked into was dimly lit and exceedingly narrow. The wind whispered, carrying with it a faint tinge of a blood scent.

Upon sensing an unsettling presence, Tang Qiao paused and turned on the flashlight on her phone. The beam of white light pierced through the darkness, revealing the surroundings in sharp clarity.

Tang Qiao squinted her eyes and looked ahead. Not far away, a figure lay on the ground, motionless.

After a brief hesitation, Tang Qiao moved forward with cautious steps. The figure turned out to be a young boy, roughly eight years old.

His fragile frame bore the marks of a bruised face, yet his facial features remained remarkably delicate and endearing.

Tang Qiao furrowed her brow and used her phone's light to examine the situation. "His face is pale, and his lips turn black. The initial assessment suggests he's been unconscious for over an hour, possibly due to poisoning," she murmured. Her gaze shifted to the boy's legs as she continued softly, "The right leg appears intact, but the left one... there are signs of injury.

There's also evidence of external wounds, indicated by the traces of blood around him."

Her medical intuition guided her assessment of the boy's condition. She reached for her phone to call for emergency assistance, but the device emitted a beep and the screen went dark.

The phone had run out of battery and automatically shut down.

Tang Qiao's expression darkened as she pressed the power button repeatedly, but it remained unresponsive. She sighed in frustration and decided to carry the boy back home.

The previous host lived in a modest rented space apartment, cramped at less than 30 square meters, featuring a single bedroom and living area. The decor was simple and unadorned. With the boy in her arms, the place felt even more confined.

Tang Qiao carefully laid the boy on the bed and took out her charger to recharge her phone.

Three minutes later, the device powered up successfully. Before she could dial for help, a text message notification regarding her phone bill payment appeared. Tang Qiao, unfazed, opened the payment app to refill her phone bill.

However, the next prompt read, 'Insufficient balance.'

Tang Qiao was at a loss for words as she checked her bank account balance, which amounted to a measly 36.80 yuan. What a poor girl.

In light of financial constraints, Tang Qiao reluctantly abandoned the idea of calling an ambulance. She simply couldn't afford the medical expenses.

Tang Qiao heated some water to clean her hands. She brushed her thick bangs aside and tied them up, then settled on the bed to examine the boy. She turned his wrist over and placed her fingers on his pulse.

Moments later, Tang Qiao withdrew her hand and gazed at the boy's tightly shut eyes. She muttered in disbelief, "Which doctor treated him? He was aware of the poisoning but took no steps to detoxify it. Instead, he deliberately directed the poison into the patient's eyes, clearly with the intention of blinding him! However..."

As Tang Qiao contemplated reevaluating the boy's pulse, she suddenly sensed a presence around her wrist.

"What are you doing?" The boy, who had regained consciousness at some point, inquired with a cold but tender voice.

Tang Qiao turned to see the boy on the bed, eyeing her warily. His black pupils glistened, and his expression was tight. Despite being just eight years old, he exuded an aura of intimidation.

The boy held onto Tang Qiao's wrist firmly, preventing her from breaking free. She explained, "My name is Tang Qiao. I found you unconscious in the alley and brought you here."

The boy's vision seemed obscured, as if enveloped in a mist, making Tang Qiao's features appear hazy and indistinct. Jiang You furrowed his brows and released her wrist. It seemed she was Tang Qiao gently rubbed her wrist and inquired, "Which family do you belong to? Do you remember your parents' contact information? I can help you get in touch with them."

Jiang You pursed his lips. His thin face was well-defined. He attempted to rise from the bed, but Tang Qiao quickly stopped him.

"Don't touch me!" Jiang You waved his hand, but as soon as he did, he lost his balance and tumbled to the ground, beads of cold sweat forming on his forehead.

Tang Qiao's heart clenched with concern. Upon disregarding his earlier warning about not touching him, she rushed forward to lift him.

"You!" Jiang You's body tensed instantly, his voice filled with irritation.

"What?" Tang Qiao placed him back on the bed and gently pressed his shoulders. He was blind and crippled, but he still wanted to behave recklessly.

Once she was sure he was stable, Tang Qiao released her grip and stood upright, adopting a commanding tone. "Stay put. Lie down properly. I'll take a look at your wound."

Jiang You turned his face, clearly unwilling to cooperate.

Tang Qiao's patience was tested, and she fought the urge to scold him. She recited the mantra "he's just a child, he's just a child" three times in her mind, then she turned to search for a first aid kit. Instead, she found a roll of gauze, iodophor, and an unexpected discovery—a stash of 800 yuan in cash.