Transmigrated Into an Ancient Famine Novel as a Scumbag Alpha (ABO, GL) - Chapter 75

Chapter 75

Song Zhao’s face bore several bruises. She clearly gained no advantage against the black-clad man.

The black-clad man clashed with Song Zhao. Ye Qing attacked from behind. She slashed his neck with her sword.

The man’s neck was half-severed. Bl00d gushed out instantly. Song Zhao struck him again from the front cautiously. All the black-clad men around them died completely.

Ye Qing dropped her sword. She knelt on the ground exhaustedly. Her arm hurt too much to lift. Sweat dripped from her forehead profusely. Her face paled like paper.

Jiang Jinhuang rushed over. She ignored her own tears. She checked Ye Qing’s condition urgently. “How are you? You’re bleeding a lot,” she said.

Jiang Jinhuang’s tears fell like broken strings. They dropped continuously. Ye Qing could have avoided the strike. She took it to save her.

Jiang Jinhuang’s tears flowed uncontrollably.

Ye Qing looked at Jiang Jinhuang palely. She forced a smile weakly. “Good thing they sent few men. More would’ve killed us all today,” she said.

“Don’t talk. Where’s the medical kit? We’ll stop the bleeding first,” Jiang Jinhuang said. She pressed her handkerchief on Ye Qing’s wound while crying. The thin fabric soaked with bl00d quickly.

Ye Qing breathed heavily. Her right hand conjured a medical kit suddenly.

Ye Qing placed the kit on the ground. Her chest heaved violently. Her left side numbed. The shoulder pain made her sweat profusely.

“Master, I’ll get a blanket. Sitting on it will be more comfortable,” Song Zhao said. Her eyes reddened. She wiped tears behind Ye Qing secretly. She blamed her uselessness. She couldn’t defeat one black-clad man. Her master had to save her.

Song Zhao hurried to fetch a blanket. She saw the little one crouched by a tree. The little one hugged her head with both hands. She dared not look up. Her body trembled noticeably. The recent events scared her greatly.

Song Zhao picked up the little one quickly. She comforted her softly. “Don’t be afraid, Yangyang. The bad men are gone. Don’t be scared,” she said.

The little one opened her eyes timidly. She saw Song Zhao holding her. She cried in Song Zhao’s arms. “Where are my sister and Sister Ye?” she asked.

“They’re over there. Let’s go,” Song Zhao said. She carried the little one over hurriedly.

The little one saw Ye Qing’s bloodied shoulder. Her big eyes shed tears rapidly. “Sister Ye was hurt by bad men,” she sobbed.

The little one cried sadly. She struggled to see Ye Qing.

Ye Qing’s condition worsened. She bit her tongue to stay alert. “We can’t treat the wound here. Song Zhao, hitch the cart. We must leave now. More black-clad men might come,” she said.

“Okay,” Song Zhao said. She looked at the little one in her arms. “Yangyang, stand still. Don’t bother Ye Qing. She’s hurt. Wait quietly, okay?” she asked.

“Okay,” the little one said. She wiped tears and nodded.

Jiang Jinhuang opened the medical kit. She used scissors to cut the fabric near Ye Qing’s wound. The deep gash appeared clearly.

The black-clad man had struck hard. The wound stretched from Ye Qing’s shoulder to her chest. It measured about ten centimeters. The deep cut bled heavily.

Jiang Jinhuang bit her lip to stay calm. She mimicked Ye Qing’s treatment of Song Zhao’s wound. She planned to disinfect with iodine first.

Ye Qing stopped her. “No rush. Use gauze to stop the bleeding first. Disinfect and stitch on the cart,” she said.

“Okay,” Jiang Jinhuang said. Her voice trembled with tears. She wrapped bandages around Ye Qing’s wound carefully. She tied a knot at the shoulder, treating it urgently.

Song Zhao hitched the cart. She packed blankets inside. She rushed out. “Master, everything’s ready. We can go,” she said.

Ye Qing struggled to breathe. She nodded faintly. Song Zhao helped her up.

Song Zhao avoided Ye Qing’s left side. She lifted Ye Qing’s right arm. Ye Qing draped it around her neck. Song Zhao supported Ye Qing firmly.

Jiang Jinhuang wanted to help. She knew her strength was less than Song Zhao’s. She feared hurting Ye Qing.

Jiang Jinhuang held the little one’s hand. She carried the medical kit with the other. She followed them closely.

At the cart, Ye Qing’s steps faltered. She nearly fainted. Song Zhao cried while lifting Ye Qing. “Master, hold on. We’ll treat your wound on the cart. You must stay strong,” she said. She turned away. She avoided wetting Ye Qing’s clothes with tears. She sobbed and placed Ye Qing inside.

Jiang Jinhuang followed. Her tears fell like a broken kite. She placed the medical kit inside first. She lifted the crying little one next.

Jiang Jinhuang climbed in. She spoke to the little one. “Yangyang, Sister Ye is hurt. I might not watch you. Stay quietly by yourself, okay?” she said.

“Okay,” the little one said. She sniffled and cried.

Jiang Jinhuang placed the little one at the cart’s far end. She prevented her from falling. She supported Ye Qing’s body carefully. “Song Zhao, drive steadily. She’s injured and can’t handle jolts,” she said.

“I know,” Song Zhao said. She lifted the curtain and left the cart. She gathered torches nearby. She drove the cart to the main road slowly.

Inside, Jiang Jinhuang placed thick blankets behind Ye Qing. Ye Qing leaned on them comfortably.

Jiang Jinhuang opened the medical kit again. She mimicked Ye Qing’s method. She wore gloves. She took out a sealed bag of threaded needles.

The thread was ready to use. Jiang Jinhuang looked at Ye Qing. She saw her eyes closing. She shouted urgently. “Ye Qing, hold on. Just a bit longer. I’ll treat your wound. You must stay strong,” she said.

Ye Qing’s mind blurred. She saw Jiang Jinhuang crying. She forced a smile weakly. “I’m fine. It’s just a shoulder injury, not like I’m…” she said.

“Don’t say those words,” Jiang Jinhuang said. She choked with tears. They fell rapidly.

Ye Qing saw her cry sadly. She felt uneasy. She endured her shoulder pain. She spoke lightly. “Really, I’m fine. My body’s always strong. A nap, and I’ll be okay. Don’t cry. Your tears make my heart ache,” she said.

Ye Qing paused to breathe. She continued speaking. “Earlier, against the black-clad men, I didn’t mean to yell. I was scared you’d get hurt,” she said.

“I know. Don’t talk. Save your strength. Don’t fall asleep,” Jiang Jinhuang said. Their conditions were poor. She feared Ye Qing wouldn’t wake if she slept.

Jiang Jinhuang couldn’t bear the thought of Ye Qing dying. She took this strike for her.

Jiang Jinhuang wiped her tears with her sleeve. She steeled herself. She took iodine and cotton swabs from the kit. She began disinfecting Ye Qing’s wound.

Iodine didn’t sting. The long wound hurt when touched. Most people couldn’t endure it.

Ye Qing hid her pain to spare Jiang Jinhuang. She breathed rapidly. Sweat covered her forehead and neck.

After one round of iodine, Ye Qing looked drenched.

“Next, use disinfectant again,” Ye Qing said. She thought and added, “Got a handkerchief? Lend me one.”

Jiang Jinhuang thought Ye Qing needed to wipe sweat. She took out her spare handkerchief quickly. She had used one to press Ye Qing’s wound. This one was unused.

Jiang Jinhuang reached to wipe Ye Qing’s face. Ye Qing stopped her. “Not for sweat,” she said.

Ye Qing took the handkerchief with her right hand. She balled it up. She stuffed it in her mouth.

Ye Qing checked her system panel. She had 77 exchange points unused. No anesthetics or sedatives were available. She would endure stitching without pain relief.

She faced this in the apocalypse once. That time, her abdominal wound needed four or five stitches. Without anesthesia, she endured. She knew the pain. She gagged herself to avoid distressing Jiang Jinhuang.

Ye Qing pointed at the disinfectant. She pointed at her wound. She nodded at Jiang Jinhuang.

Jiang Jinhuang wiped her tears. She took the disinfectant. She recalled using it on Song Zhao. Song Zhao writhed in pain. Now, Ye Qing would face it.

Jiang Jinhuang dipped a cotton swab in disinfectant carefully. She applied it to Ye Qing’s wound slowly.

Ye Qing tensed completely. She trembled uncontrollably. She bit the handkerchief tightly. Muffled groans escaped her throat. The disinfectant felt like a knife tearing her wound. Sweat dripped from her forehead like rain.

Ye Qing was stubborn. Despite the pain, she shed no tears. She endured it stoically.

Jiang Jinhuang avoided Ye Qing’s face. She focused on the long wound. She disinfected it thoroughly.

After finishing, she looked at Ye Qing. Her face paled further. Jiang Jinhuang spoke through red eyes. “Don’t sleep, Ye Qing. I’ll stitch your wound soon. How do I do it? How do I do it?” she asked.

Jiang Jinhuang was a noble lady. She excelled in poetry and embroidery. She had never stitched human flesh, especially not Ye Qing’s.