Chapter 632: Chapter 632: Possibly Being Watched
My King: This bat is different; it spies.
From the moment just now that sounded like the "ha ha ha" of geese, the group chat suddenly went quiet. It took quite a while before a message popped up.
Lord: Then you might be under surveillance.
Eve: I once heard that bats with spiritual nature are equivalent to their master’s eyes. You think the bat is watching you, but maybe it’s actually the person behind you who’s watching.
Seeing these two sentences, Little Dumpling furrowed his brow and asked again: Do people actually keep bats?
Lord Spade: Forget about bats; these days people even keep venomous snakes by their side. Isn’t that right, Eve?
Eve: Shut up! How can those tacky creatures compare to my Little Silver! Quit your babbling!
Ghostly Messenger: ...Why did I have to meet you two idiots?
Kenny looked at these usually fearsome bigshots, who were now arguing like kindergarten kids due to differing opinions, and felt a bit humiliated.
At this moment, several private messages popped up.
They were sent by Lord and Lord Spade.
Lord: There aren’t many places capable of raising bats with spiritual qualities. I asked a friend to check, and one is the Michelle Family in K Country, the other is the Gothasen Royal Family, crown prince Warren Vance.
Lord: The bats they raise have numbers. If you find gold engravings on their wings, you can be certain.
Kenny propped his chin as he read Lord’s message. Upon seeing the word "Gothasen," his expression turned solemn.
It’s that Gothasen crown prince again...
Raising bats, what kind of weird hobby is this?
After thanking Lord, Kenny exited and clicked into Lord Spade’s chat interface.
Lord Spade: Do you need the only first-rate handsome man in the world, Lord Spade, to help butcher the bat for your meal?
Kenny: "..." This narcissist.
"Cough! Cough cough!" A sudden itch arose in his throat, and Kenny quickly covered his little mouth, coughing several times, trying to suppress that itch.
That cute little face went as pale as a fading painting, instantly losing all color.
Kenny jumped down from the chair, suppressing the urge to cough hard, and ran into the bathroom.
"Cough, cough cough cough—"
The door muffled his coughing sound inside the bathroom, and soon the sound of running water started, rinsing away the blood-red stains on the white ceramic.
Little Dumpling stood on tiptoe, taking the clean towel beside him to cover his mouth, took a breath, then walked out of the bathroom to find the usual medicine he drinks in the cabinet and drank it down.
Finally, he suppressed the itch in his throat.
After shutting down the computer, Kenny immediately burrowed back into the warm blanket, pursing his bloodless lips, while a rare dim light shone in his big eyes.
If Mommy knew his condition is this severe now, she would be heartbroken again.
Over the years, Mommy has worked hard enough to find matching bone marrow to heal him.
This little matter, he better not mention to add to Mommy’s troubles.
...
The next morning.
Inside First Hospital.
The sky was overcast, with light rain drizzling down, enveloping the whole world in a misty veil, making everything indistinct.
After the check-up, Bella Hawthorne was wheeled into the operating room by the nurses.
The entire floor was securely protected by now, not even a small insect could fly in.
Ann Vaughn was communicating with the doctors in the medical team about the surgery; fortunately, Cyrus Hawthorne had briefed them in advance, so those doctors were just listening quietly.
Even though their expressions looked foul enough to seem like they wrote "What nonsense are you spouting?" across their faces.
Surgical abortion without anesthesia?
This isn’t a surgery; it’s a death gamble!
And what is Chinese medicine supposed to be? They hadn’t even heard of it!
Ann Vaughn didn’t know what these doctors were thinking. She was somewhat appreciating their reasonableness.
Back when this combination of Western and Chinese surgical methods was not common abroad, before surgery, those doctors always had to criticize and reprimand her thoroughly.
The more irritable ones would even point directly at Ann Vaughn’s nose, telling her to get lost, stop embarrassing herself here.
Ann Vaughn had a fiery temper too. After that surgery, the doctor who pointed at her had a hand so numb it couldn’t hold anything for half a year.
"Alright, you all go in and prepare." Ann Vaughn glanced at the clock on the wall. After saying this to the doctors, she took her phone and left.
A few doctors silently rolled their eyes behind her and unconcernedly entered the operating room.
Ann Vaughn walked to the window, just about to dial Cyrus Hawthorne’s phone, when Mark Joyce’s voice suddenly came from behind: "Miss Vaughn."
"President Hawthorne got tied up by a meeting temporarily and will come later, so he sent me here to keep an eye. President Hawthorne asked me to tell you, don’t stress too much; whatever the outcome, he’ll handle all the problems."
Upon hearing this, Ann Vaughn paused slightly, unconsciously squeezing her slightly sweaty hand, suddenly feeling like there was something supporting her back, letting her lean on it with relief.
How did he know... she was anxious?
"I know." Ann Vaughn’s heart gradually calmed, and a faint smile graced her lips.
At eight o’clock sharp, the red light in the operating room came on.
Bella Hawthorne lay on the operating table, her hands tightly clenched against her clothes, her eyes brimming with fear, her corners slightly wet.
Until she saw Ann Vaughn come in, the huge stone weighing on her heart showed signs of being moved.
"Sis..." Bella Hawthorne was trembling uncontrollably, desperately wanting to grasp Ann Vaughn’s hand.
Ann Vaughn walked quickly to her and grasped her cold fingers, soothing in a low voice: "Don’t be afraid, I’ll be here with you all the time. Close your eyes and have a good sleep; when you wake up, everything will be fine."
Her words seemed to have a kind of magic; no matter how chaotic or fearful the thoughts, they would become peaceful with her voice.
Bella Hawthorne nodded slightly and closed her eyes.
At the same time, Ann Vaughn took out the Golden Needle, smeared with extracted potion, and successively inserted it into Bella Hawthorne’s Xuehai acupoint and other major acupoints.
Bella Hawthorne’s tightly-strung body suddenly relaxed as if she had fallen into a deep sleep.
A moment later, Ann Vaughn turned to the nearby doctors who were ready and waiting, saying earnestly: "I’ll leave it to you from here."
"It’s our duty." The head surgeon nodded.
This surgery lasted nearly two hours and had not yet finished.
Inhaling the thick scent of blood in the air, Ann Vaughn, resting with her eyes closed against the wall, her face pale, hugging her arms ever tighter.
Her mind flashed with a montage of images.
A cold operating table, the sharp surgical knives glinting with cold light, as the anesthetic was pushed into the veins, her limbs growing increasingly numb and weak...
She had thought she had long forgotten about the nightmare of life and death from four years ago.
But as she stood in this operating room, memories surged like ocean waves, instantly sweeping her into turmoil.