novelraw Chapter 25 How Can I Lead You Away?
Chapter 25 How Can I Lead You Away?
A black minivan sped along the elevated highway late at night.
The lights in the carriage were off.
The dim streetlights streaked across the windshield, illuminating the beads of sweat on Zhang Juan's forehead.
She stared ahead, her breathing heavy.
You need to think about it again.
A slow car was blocking her way, so she honked her horn to stop it.
"Zhang Yilin has severe paranoid personality disorder and is holding broken glass. If you go over there, she might hurt you, or if you don't stop her from harming herself, all the resources the company has invested in the past two weeks will be wasted."
She paused, then presented the penalty for breach of contract and the brand endorsement she had just secured.
"Turn back. The hospital has special police and negotiation experts. If something goes wrong, it's an act of God."
Song Ze sat in the passenger seat, his elbows resting on the window, watching the silhouettes of the tall buildings recede into the distance.
force majeure.
If someone dies in a hospital, there will be a hundred press releases overnight.
He could guess which punctuation mark to use in the title.
The scumbag boyfriend seduced and then abandoned her, causing the female fan to suffer a mental breakdown and commit suicide in her hospital room.
The plan to withdraw from the crypto world and enter the cryptocurrency world with a breach of contract penalty of 80 million yuan a year is not something to be taken responsibility for.
He had to go. He had to rescue them safely.
"She won't hurt anyone," Song Ze said.
Zhang Juan turned her head away.
"She took a utility knife during the stand-up comedy show and cut her own arm. Just now, when she broke the glass of the medicine cart on the phone, she only pushed the nurse."
He looked at the endless asphalt road ahead.
"She's only hurting herself. In the end, she just likes me."
Zhang Juan opened her mouth. In this industry where people climb to the top by stepping on others' bones, she had never seen an artist empathize with a sasaeng fan who threatened to kill them.
Half an hour later, at the Seventh Ward of the Municipal Mental Health Center.
Red and blue police lights flashed alternately in the corridor.
The incandescent light shone on the pure white wall, reflecting a layer of light that made people feel anxious.
Outside the special care ward at the end of Ward 7, special police officers stood in front with tactical shields, while doctors and nurses stood against the wall, no one daring to make a sound.
Song Ze pushed aside the police tape and went inside. Zhang Juan followed closely behind.
"How is the situation?" Zhang Juan stopped a man in a white coat.
"The door was blocked by a stainless steel medicine cabinet and an iron bed."
The SWAT team leader walked over, his face taut beneath his protective helmet.
"A forced entry would take at least ten seconds. The suspect held a long strip of broken glass to her carotid artery; ten seconds would have been enough time for her to slit her trachea and blood vessels. A forced entry would have a very high fatality rate."
The corridor quieted down, with only the static of walkie-talkies breaking the silence.
A cell phone suddenly rang.
Everyone turned their heads at the same time. Zhang Juan frantically pulled out her phone and pressed speakerphone.
"Why haven't we arrived yet?"
A distorted, anxious voice burst from the speaker, accompanied by heavy breathing.
"Zhang Yilin, calm down, we've arrived at the ward," Zhang Juan quickly replied.
"Liar." Her breathing grew increasingly rapid. "Thirty seconds. If Brother Song doesn't appear in thirty seconds, I'll cut it off. Thirty. Twenty-nine."
Song Ze stepped over and took the phone from Zhang Juan's hand.
"Little sister Yilin, I'm here."
He hung up the phone.
The SWAT captain's eyes widened.
The doctors in white coats collectively gasped – he had actually hung up on a mentally ill patient on the verge of a breakdown.
Song Ze walked straight toward the tightly closed white fire door.
"Stop him," the SWAT team leader ordered.
Two riot police officers stepped forward, blocking his path with tactical shields on either side, and aimed their lockable riot forks at his waist.
"A provoked paranoid patient can be very aggressive; you'll only cause trouble if you go there," the SWAT team captain said sternly.
Song Ze stopped and tossed his phone to Zhang Juan.
He slowly raised his hands.
His black coat was open, revealing a white T-shirt underneath; there was nowhere on his body to hide a weapon.
"I'll handle it."
His voice was flat.
The air seemed to freeze for a moment.
The doctor looked at the casually dressed celebrity and thought he was crazy.
Faced with an armed mentally ill patient, even the most experienced negotiator would need several hours of back-and-forth.
Does this person think they're filming a movie?
Can knocking twice make someone drop their weapon?
Song Ze bypassed the riot control fork and walked to the heavy white iron gate.
Raise your right hand, bending your index and middle fingers.
Deduct. Deduct.
Two soft sounds.
"Eileen, open the door. I'm here."
one second.
two seconds.
A dull rustling sound came from inside the door.
Click, the hidden lock popped open.
The fire door was opened a crack a few centimeters wide.
The SWAT officers in the corridor instantly lowered their center of gravity and put their fingers on the triggers of the stun guns.
A pale arm emerged from the crack in the door, its wrist stained with dried, dark red blood.
They had no weapons.
The hand slipped through the crack in the door and gently grasped Song Ze's shirt sleeve.
The force was very light, carrying an eerie gentleness.
He pulled his arm back.
Following the force, Song Ze turned sideways and squeezed into the narrow gap that could only accommodate one person.
boom.
The door slammed shut.
The snapping sound of the latch returning to its slot echoed through the corridor.
Zhang Juan's legs went weak, and she had to brace herself against the wall to avoid sliding down.
Two special police officers pressed themselves against the door panel and attached miniature listening earpieces.
In the ward.
The light bulbs were all broken, and glass shards were scattered all over the floor.
The only light came from a beam of white light coming in through the skylight, which shone directly on half of Zhang Yilin's face.
She was wearing a hospital gown.
His eyes were bloodshot, his right hand was clutching a triangular shard of glass, and his left hand was gripping Song Ze's arm.
The smell of blood and disinfectant mixed together, making my nostrils tingle.
Her chest heaved violently, and her left hand moved up Song Ze's arm inch by inch, tentatively trying to hug him.
Bloodstains left several dark red fingerprints on the white T-shirt.
Song Ze didn't move or dodge.
His demeanor changed in an instant.
With his back straight and shoulders relaxed, an aura of profound experience and unspoken emotion silently unfolded.
He took on the role of Zhang Yilin's imagined boyfriend, who was forced to separate from her but loved her deeply yet could not express it.
He took a step forward, his leather shoes making a soft sound as they stepped on the broken glass.
Zhang Yilin flinched.
Her defensive instincts made her instantly turn the glass shard around, pressing its sharp edge against her neck.
The skin had been broken, and a very thin line of blood was seeping out.
Any negotiation expert or police officer in this situation would raise their hands and persuade the other party to put down the weapon.
Song Ze did not back down.
He took another step forward.
The two were less than ten centimeters apart.
He didn't look at the broken glass.
He straightened his chest and pressed the sharp shard of glass directly against his chest.
The sharp point pierced through the pure cotton fabric, pressing harshly against the pectoralis major muscle.
Zhang Yilin's hand trembled suddenly, and she froze.
"Didn't you say you'd wait for me?"
Song Ze lowered his head and spoke in a low voice.
The tone was reproachful, yet filled with helpless indulgence.
"How can I take you away in this state?"
The moment those words were spoken, Zhang Yilin's defenses, which were covered in sharp spikes, were shattered.
A morbid ecstasy and extreme grievance welled up from his bloodshot eyes.
She was trembling violently, and the glass shard pressed against Song Ze's chest slid down due to her weakened grip, leaving its fatal position.
A tear fell onto the back of Song Ze's hand.
You lied to me.
She started shivering and crying, grabbing Song Ze's shirt hem with her left hand and crumpling the white fabric into a ball.
In the corridor outside the door.
The SWAT captain, wearing a listening earpiece, suddenly turned his head and stared at Zhang Juan.
He pulled off his headphones and took two steps back.
There were no screams.
There was no hysterical confrontation.
No attack.
The sound coming through the earphones was a girl sobbing as she cried to her boyfriend after suffering a great injustice.
The paranoid man who had just threatened the entire police force with his life fell silent.
The doctor pushed up his glasses and leaned closer.
The SWAT captain shook his head blankly.
The scene inside the door completely overturned his ten years of experience in handling cases.
"You were talking about them on stage... talking about that medical student, talking about those women's names..."
Inside the ward, Zhang Yilin was sobbing, her teeth chattering.
"You even recorded a song with Lin Shishi..."