Quick Transmigration: God of Slaughter? But He Calls Me Baby! - Chapter 47

The second time Qianzhou was pushed into the operating room, Gu Sheng felt like the surgery took even longer than the first.

The red light above the operating room seemed to glow for an entire century.

Gu Sheng braced his elbows on his knees, muscles in his arms throbbing, his face buried deeply in his palms.

The constant tension in his nerves was exhausting. He hadn’t properly rested since they came ashore.

He rubbed his brow, feeling like every time he heard the words “leave,” he lost control. He knew Qianzhou was still injured, burning with fever, yet they still fought.

The hospital hallway was dim and cold. Gu Sheng sat alone on an iron bench, guarding the one inside.

In his mind, Qianzhou’s last words echoed over and over—
“I already have no way of protecting myself.”

What did that mean?

What did he mean by “no more”? What were those “methods”?

Gu Sheng closed his eyes. Qianzhou always seemed to lack a sense of security around him. Many times he was obedient to the extreme.

But once he received a clear sign that he wouldn’t be hurt, he’d bare his claws and fangs—so alive, so bright, drawing him in from head to toe.

But the bloody scene just now had stabbed at Gu Sheng’s heart. Inside him was a locked gate, and that shock kept pounding against the cracks.

Fragments of memory leaked through. Every scene was tied to Qianzhou.

Ever since his bipolar episodes started to ease, the noisy voices in his head had vanished. Another “self” had disappeared—leaving behind only those memories, along with an illness that struck once every Thursday.

Gu Sheng had tried to dig deeper, but some force always stopped him.

Now, fueled by guilt and regret, that locked gate had been pried open just a crack.

The fragments flowed together, weaving into a continuous thread.

Gu Sheng remembered.

He had once desired someone for a long time, but hadn’t even had the right to speak to him.

The image was of an endless void of space-time rifts—he had fallen into it.

What came after, he already knew.

He watched those foolish “raiders” performing in front of him, flaunting themselves. Sometimes he grew impatient and killed them one by one.

His body was occasionally taken over by that other “self.”

That one recognized people more sharply, and his killing methods were crueler—even dismemberment.

Back then, Gu Sheng hadn’t yet remembered who Qianzhou was. The first time he saw him, he simply thought he was beautiful—so beautiful he couldn’t help but like him.

When Qianzhou wanted to be with him, he let it happen.

The operating room door clicked open.

The doctor walked out.
“The bleeding has been stopped. Don’t let the patient get too emotional—the wound tore badly. He’s just been given a painkiller.”

Gu Sheng answered quietly and looked up at the bed inside.

Qianzhou’s face was paler than ever, lips drained of bl00d.

The first surgery had only pulled him through with a bl00d transfusion. Now, just seeing his complexion gave Gu Sheng a chill of dread.

When had he ever cared for someone this much?

The doctor patted his shoulder.
“You don’t look like someone strapped for cash. There’s one VIP room available—private bath, sofa, TV. Go pay if you want to move him.”

He glanced at Gu Sheng’s torn shirt collar.
“Change your clothes, take a shower. It won’t delay your waiting. And remember to bring along that parrot you locked in the next room.”

“…Alright. Thank you.”

The doctor nodded and left.

Qianzhou was transferred again—from the best single room to the hospital’s only VIP ward.

The freshly prepared room still smelled faintly of disinfectant.

Unlike the other, its window wasn’t blocked by trees. It opened onto the seaside square, sunlight pouring in.

Gu Sheng bought a new phone and a few sets of clothes nearby. After showering in the ward, the stench of fish was finally gone.

With a towel in hand, he wiped Qianzhou’s face and arms.

When he reached the tear streaks on his face, his movements slowed.

…He was truly afraid of him.

That night, as Gu Sheng wiped his toes, Qianzhou’s foot suddenly slipped free.

He looked up—the boy was awake.

Setting down the damp towel, Gu Sheng lifted the bowl of hot porridge and held a spoonful to Qianzhou’s lips.

“…Don’t want it.” Qianzhou turned his head away.

He locked eyes with the parrot on the windowsill.

“…”

Then he turned the other way, ignoring them both.

“I’ll apologize. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that before.”

Qianzhou froze, staring in disbelief.
“…Have you been possessed?”

“No.” Gu Sheng said.

Qianzhou frowned. “Then take your temperature.”

Gu Sheng pulled a thermometer gun from the drawer, aimed it at his wrist—beep-beep.
“36.5°, normal. No fever.”

Qianzhou silently averted his eyes, then looked back at him suspiciously. Still, he opened his mouth and drank the porridge from the spoon.

…When had he ever been so obedient?

It felt strange.

“Then… go buy me some milk. Warm. Just enough for two gulps.”

Gu Sheng jerked his chin. “It’s right by your hand.”

Qianzhou looked down. Sure enough, a small warm bottle of milk sat there. Gu Sheng picked it up, opened it, and handed it to him.

With only one good arm, Qianzhou tilted his head back and drank, sneaking glances at Gu Sheng from the corner of his eye.

“You’re acting weird.”

“Am I?”

Gu Sheng smoothly took the empty bottle from his hand, frowning slightly at how natural it felt.

On the TV, a palace drama played. A little eunuch named Wang Deshun knelt on the floor, holding a hairpin in both hands.

He piped in a sharp voice: “Yes, ma’am~”

“Pfft—”

Qianzhou burst out laughing, his hair trembling, a bit of color returning to his pale face.

…Who could resist that.

Gu Sheng tossed the empty bottle into the trash and quietly went back to feeding him porridge.

The silly drama droned on. Sunlight streamed through half-open pink curtains. From the busy seaside square below came the hum of voices.

Gu Sheng sat in the sunlight.

Away from the black-and-white files of his past, he was just another man—someone who hungered, thirsted, breathed.

Qianzhou watched him wipe down his calves with a towel, silent for a while before asking:
“…What’s wrong with you?”

Could it be his injuries had rattled him too much?

Gu Sheng rolled up his pants, exposing smooth white legs still dusted with grains of sand.

He wiped them clean and said lightly, “I just remembered something from a long time ago.”

Qianzhou still found it unbelievable. This was the man who never spoke unless Qianzhou started first—domineering, unreasonable.

“…Hey.”

“Were you really a servant before?”

Smack—

The towel in Gu Sheng’s hand slipped to the floor.