Quick Transmigration: God of Slaughter? But He Calls Me Baby! - Chapter 44

The old man squinted his eyes toward the sea. “What are those two black dots out there…”

Brian didn’t take it seriously. “Ocean trash. Lately we’ve been hauling up plastic bottles all the time. Stop being so paranoid.”

He rolled his eyes. “What, you think you’re gonna fish up people?”

“No, wait! They are people!” The old man quickly adjusted the sail and tossed him an oar.

“Damn, really! Hurry, save them!”

The two of them rowed hard, soon approaching the figures drifting on the water.

Strictly speaking, only one of them seemed alive. On his back floated another, pale-faced, motionless, eyes closed.

“Here, easy, easy.”

Gu Sheng pushed Qian Zhou up first, lifting him onto the boat, then hauled himself up by gripping the mast.

He was covered in Qian Zhou’s bl00d, but thanks to the warm summer waters, not too cold, he had managed to drag Qian Zhou along until now.

When the old man handed him some water, Gu Sheng pushed it away, his voice hoarse and dry: “…Check him first. He’s got a wound on his shoulder.”

“Soaked in seawater like this, it’s bound to get infected. Old Tor, bring the med kit. We’ll treat him quick and head back to the city—get them to a hospital.”

Qian Zhou’s head lolled to the side, his body swaying with the rocking fishing boat. His shoulder wound was still seeping bl00d.

There was a ring of red bruising on his arm from being tied up, and a discarded tie lay to one side.

Gu Sheng’s own arm bore the same kind of mark.

He had tied Qian Zhou to himself with that tie and drifted nearly an hour in open water, clutching him with one hand and a life ring with the other.

All the while enduring the crashing waves, his muscles nearly numb from the strain.

“Eh?! What’s with that bird on your back?”

“I’m gonna die! I’m gonna die! I’m gonna die!” squawked the green-winged macaw at the top of its lungs.

Its claws dug tight into the back of Gu Sheng’s clothes, beak biting his collar to keep from falling, tearing the fabric to shreds.

Old Tor tugged at his beard. “Youth really is fierce… That parrot’s gotta weigh at least three kilos.”

He set down the med kit, cut open Qian Zhou’s collar, and gave the wound a quick treatment.

Then checked his breathing. “Still alive. You two are lucky—today’s winds are the strongest we’ve had, waves big enough to flip small boats.”

Hearing that Qian Zhou was alive, Gu Sheng’s shoulders slackened, and he collapsed against the railing, coughing hard.

His arm wouldn’t obey him, and it took several tries before he managed to pry the parrot off his back.

“What are you doing! What are you doing!”

Gu Sheng’s eyes were icy cold. The bird instantly shut up, shuffling across the deck to Qian Zhou’s side.

It spread its wide wings to shield him from the sea breeze, as if that alone could wake him up.

“How is he?” Gu Sheng asked.

Brian replied, “Low bl00d pressure, fever, likely some infection. But don’t worry—the hospital’s close, just on shore.”

The engine roared as Old Tor reeled in the sail and pushed the motor to full power.

Gu Sheng, still in his evening suit from the banquet, sat by Qian Zhou’s side, gently clutching his hand.

“Your hand’s too cold…” He threaded his fingers between Qian Zhou’s, passing his own warmth into them.

He held on like that until the boat docked and Qian Zhou was carried off on a stretcher.

Gu Sheng struggled to his feet and followed slowly.

Brian caught his arm. “Brother, you look pale as death. Come with me, get some food and rest first.”

“No need…”

Just as the ambulance doors were about to shut, Brian grabbed him again.

Gu Sheng frowned and turned, only to see Brian holding up the parrot by the head. “Your bird.”

“…” Gu Sheng hauled it into the ambulance too.

The parrot, terrified of being abandoned, rolled its eyes nervously and stayed silent.

Gu Sheng gave it a glance and clamped its beak shut with his hand.

If the stupid bird hadn’t saved Qian Zhou’s life, he’d have tossed it into the sea already.

At the hospital, Qian Zhou was wheeled into the emergency room while Gu Sheng sat on the iron bench in the corridor.

Because of its size, the macaw had been stuffed into a cage.

It peeked out through the bars, scratching Gu Sheng’s sleeve with a claw.

Tilting its head, it croaked in its comical voice, “Thank you.”

“Shut it,” Gu Sheng muttered, raking a hand through his hair as he pulled out his wallet.

He took a stack of white slips to the counter to pay Qian Zhou’s surgery fees.

The operation didn’t cost much, and even the best single room was only four hundred a night.

He stared at the surgery lamp as it changed from red to green, then at Qian Zhou being pushed out—alone, small, lying on the bed with an oxygen mask.

“Family member, please sign here.”

Gu Sheng took the form, scrawling his name crookedly.

“…Sir? Sir?” The doctor called him several times.

Gu Sheng blinked back to himself. “Sorry.”

“I just wanted to tell you—the patient’s condition has stabilized. Bl00d pressure’s back to normal. He’s still unconscious from bl00d loss, but nothing critical.”

“Keep him under observation. If he wakes in the next couple of days, there shouldn’t be any major problems.”

Gu Sheng asked, “…And if he doesn’t wake up?”

The doctor hesitated, then said, “Chances are very high he will. No arteries were hit, but the wound is infected. Keep close watch on his temperature—if it goes over 39, press the call button.”

“Alright. Thank you.”

Gu Sheng carried a thick stack of reports back to the room.

Thicker than his usual work files, packed with test data—three pages just for bl00d work. The doctor had even mentioned some malnutrition.

Inside the private ward, he set the papers down, gently brushing his hand across Qian Zhou’s cheek. “Eat so much, and still malnourished…”

The room was spotless, faintly scented with disinfectant.

He pushed the window open; warm wind drifted in, filtered sunlight through leaves casting a mild glow.

Qian Zhou had IVs in both arms, a pulse oximeter clipped to his finger. Gu Sheng sat beside him, staring blankly at the rise and fall of the heart monitor.

“Sir, your pet was on the chair. I dressed its wound—it’s lucky, no broken bones.”

Gu Sheng looked at the stupid bird being handed back, silent for a moment. “…Thanks.”

The young nurse smiled at him before leaving.

Maybe handsome men were rare in the small-town hospital, because over ten nurses had come in and out of the room in just the afternoon.

Bringing water, thermometers, bandages—even trying to drag Gu Sheng for his own checkup.

He barely got a moment of peace.

After his exam, the doctor told him he had minor muscle strain and just needed rest. With his constitution, a few days would do.

Back in the ward, he sat by the still-unconscious Qian Zhou, keeping vigil during his IV.

Five minutes later, Qian Zhou’s fingers twitched twice.

Slowly, he opened his eyes.