Chapter 156: Little God of Wealth

Chapter 156 The Little God of Wealth

2 PM, Kowloon, Queen Mary Hospital.

Doctors pushed a portable gurney, its wheels emitting a nerve-wracking squeal against the tiles, rushing straight to the emergency room.

Doctor: "...Excessive blood loss. Get an epinephrine shot in him now!"

He glanced at Jian Ruochen's wound, "Blood pressure is too low; he'll need blood. What's his blood type?"

Guan Yingjun stood outside the emergency room, his hands and feet cold, "RH... RH negative."

The attending doctor's expression darkened sharply, "We don't have that here."

In the 1990s, apart from the wealthy, most poor people didn't get regular checkups, let alone pay to know their blood type.

Blood banks ran low, and information was incomplete; sometimes even common blood types were unavailable, not to mention RH negative.

Although Queen Mary Hospital was the police's designated emergency hospital with better facilities than others, obtaining RH negative blood was still a tall order.

"Administer lactated Ringer's solution first to buy time," the doctor said decisively.

As he spoke, he cut open Jian Ruochen's blood-stained shirt to prepare for suturing, "Fortunately, it's a clean through-and-through wound, only needs debridement; no need to go digging for the bullet. With this blood type, he should stay off the front lines in the future. You—"

He cut off mid-sentence as the doctor used surgical scissors to lift the stack of papers hidden in Jian Ruochen's abdomen. He pinched a corner, pulled it out, and handed it to Guan Yingjun.

Guan Yingjun took it and remained silent for a long while.

So when he picked up Jian Ruochen earlier, he wasn't protecting his stomach but the evidence.

The two men exchanged a look.

The doctor felt his heart clench.

He had saved many police officers—those shot, those with excessive blood loss, those with bullets through their lungs, those who dragged themselves back with a busted leg.

Jian Ruochen was the youngest among them.

Young enough to be the doctor's son.

Still so young.

The doctor turned his face away, "The casino's legal firearms; the diameter of handgun bullets is half that of service weapons, so lactated Ringer's solution can buy him at least one to three days."

He closed his eyes, "He needs a blood transfusion. Detective Guan, go get the bullet graze on your arm sutured, then work something out."

After saying this, the doctor pushed Jian Ruochen into the emergency room.

Just as the red light above the door lit up, Luo Binwen arrived.

He had just come from a social finance banquet, still wearing a light tan notch lapel suit, an exquisite pocket watch fastened to the second button from the bottom of his jacket, a chain extending and disappearing into the side pocket.

It was chosen by Jian Ruochen.

Luo Binwen's hair was messed up from running, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath. He spotted Guan Yingjun sitting outside the operating room, "How is he?"

Being a police officer was undoubtedly dangerous, especially in the Major Crimes Unit, but he never expected Jian Ruochen—a Criminal Psychological Consultant, a paper pusher!—to wind up in emergency surgery.

Luo Binwen didn't want to blame Guan Yingjun, as it must have been Jian Ruochen's own choice, but he couldn't help but resent Guan Yingjun in his heart.

Why do you trust Jian Ruochen so much? Why don’t you rein him in?

"He needs a blood transfusion," Guan Yingjun said quietly. "Queen Mary Hospital is out."

If even Queen Mary Hospital is out, that means Hong Kong’s blood banks are temporarily depleted.

He held the evidence Jian Ruochen had gathered but had no intention of reviewing it. Lowering his gaze, he said, "Have STN report the news: Jian Ruochen has been shot and urgently needs blood. A reward of 15 million HKD for anyone whose blood type matches and donates within 24 hours."

As he spoke, Guan Yingjun looked at Luo Binwen. "My savings are in his care. This is all I can offer."

Luo Binwen: "So that money was yours."

No wonder he wondered where the young master got that much money.

"It’s grown to 58 million HKD now," Luo Binwen said, unable to fathom how 58 million could support the young master in Hong Kong.

"Then make the reward 58 million HKD," Guan Yingjun said.

Luo Binwen watched him quietly for a few seconds before saying, "You two can’t legally marry."

Guan Yingjun remained silent.

"Lu Qian and Jiang Hanyu can go public with their relationship, get married, and hold an engagement ceremony because they have no political ties."

Luo Binwen laid out the harsh reality, spelling it out plainly for Guan Yingjun. "The mainland is stricter than Hong Kong. Now that he has close ties with the mainland and might even join the Communist Party, you won’t be able to marry overseas. Without a marriage certificate or children, it’ll be hard for your love to last a lifetime."

"As an elder, I’m moved that you’d give all your savings for him. But have you considered what will happen if your relationship doesn’t work out? You still have a life to live."

Guan Yingjun said, "You don’t have to test me. Even if it’s just for a moment, I’m willing to give him everything."

Luo Binwen: …

This… this Senior Inspector has completely lost his mind!

It’s like he’s high on Preludin!

He was certain that if it were Jian Ruochen, he would never speak so absolutely.

The young master would always leave something for himself, to make a comeback easier.

So it turns out the lovestruck fool of this generation isn’t from the Connaught family.

That’s a relief.

Luo Binwen: "Alright, this plan is feasible. 58 million it is. As for the others who verify their blood type and successfully donate to save him, they’ll receive a 500 HKD reward and a red bean pastry. I’ll cover that."

·

STN, now the leading news outlet in Hong Kong, spread the word at lightning speed.

Within an hour, Hong Kong’s blood donation centers were swamped.

Blood tests and donations. As long as there was no history of drug use and the donor was healthy, they’d get 500 dollars and a free health check—it was like money falling from the sky.

Blood banks across hospitals were more stocked than ever. Hospitals funded by Connaught, with their faster reward process, were especially packed.

That day, the family of a type-A mother suffering from massive bleeding didn’t even hear the usual excuse of "blood shortage" and immediately received fresh blood.

Thanks to the quick response, both mother and child were safe.

·

Rh-negative blood is rare in the population, but with this screening, more than a dozen people were actually found within 24 hours.

After disease screening, eight people remained eligible. These eight nearly came to blows at the hospital entrance over who would donate.

The staff at Queen Mary Hospital were stunned by this operation.

24 hours, 1.9 billion Hong Kong dollars poured into saving a life.

Although the intention was to save Jian Ruochen, this move actually ended up saving at least a hundred people and even made future blood donations easier.

Who besides Connaught has the capital to pull off something like this?

It’s said that Jiang Hanyu, who is already in prison, also has this blood type. He had a blood disorder, urgently needing a transfusion and bone marrow transplant, but no match was ever found, leading him to resort to an illegal procedure.

Both are wealthy, but look at the foresight of the Connaught family.

Not only did they save their young master, but they also filled all of Hong Kong’s blood banks, helping other patients in need of transfusions.

When the doctor hung the blood bag for Jian Ruochen’s transfusion, a nurse nearby said, “This whole situation is just too absurd.”

The doctors said he had 1–3 days, but deep down, they all thought it was hopeless.

Rh-negative blood is so rare, and Hong Kong is such a big city—how could they possibly find a match?

But these past 24 hours felt like a dream.

“It’s like the Siege of Bright Peak by the six major sects,” she remarked.

Except the six major sects were there to kill, while these people “crowded” the hospitals to save a life.

The nurse glanced at the person lying on the bed.

Jian Ruochen’s complexion was much better than when he first arrived. The corners of his lips had just been moistened with a cotton swab, and Detective Guan, known for his stern demeanor, had carefully applied lip balm. His Cupid’s bow looked glossy and exceptionally beautiful.

Thinking about what they meant to each other, the nurse smiled faintly and looked away, casually asking, “Who ended up donating the blood?”

“A girl who flew in from the mainland,” the doctor replied, filling out the medical chart. “She was the most physically suitable donor, and she’d donated stem cells to someone else before.”

Actually, her previous donation wasn’t voluntary—she’d been forcibly taken and made to donate.

The beneficiary was none other than Jiang Hanyu, now serving time in prison.

The girl was later rescued by the West Kowloon Major Crimes Unit, who found her parents and sent her back to the mainland. It’s said her family had been frantic with worry. She was a red second-generation, the apple of her family’s eye, who had run away from home to avoid military service and ended up trafficked.

This time, after seeing the STN news, she took a helicopter directly to Hong Kong to donate blood. Now fully recovered, she’d somehow changed her mind about military service and had become a spirited soldier.

“Those who love others are always loved in return,” the doctor said.

Jian Ruochen is such a good person—many can’t bear to see him go.

“What’s West Kowloon been up to lately? They’ve been making quite a stir,” the nurse chattered on.

The doctor glanced down. “What I shouldn’t know, I usually don’t.”

·

West Kowloon was busy sorting through the evidence Jian Ruochen had brought back.

That hard drive, those documents—any one of them could expose British Hong Kong’s deepest secrets.

Moreover, the bloodstained, seemingly ordinary paper used to protect the hard drive was covered with the names of officials who had laundered money through casinos.

Not only that, it also contained receipts and transaction records showing how Moer Kelin had invested his money-laundering commissions into several elementary schools in Hong Kong.

Such a large sum of money funneled into elementary schools was highly suspicious.

Elementary schools don’t need that much funding.

The West Kowloon Major Crimes Unit knew that if they handled this well, they might not only take down Lu Rong but also overhaul a layer of Hong Kong’s officials.

And that was just the small stuff.

Even bigger was the possibility that, through this evidence, they could uncover the MI6 spy intelligence agency’s base in Hong Kong and potentially round them all up for deportation.

Chen Jincai, holding a stack of evidence and tasks assigned to him, walked to the small shrine in the corner of the Major Crimes Unit’s hall. He lit three incense sticks, raised them to eyebrow level, and bowed devoutly to Guan Yu: “Lord Guan, as the Martial God of Wealth, please bless our Little God of Wealth in West Kowloon. He must stay healthy and safe.”

“Please… please don’t let anything else go wrong.”

Lately, no one dared to provoke Guan Yingjun.

He had a calm yet unhinged aura. If anything else happened to Jian Ruochen, Chen Jincai feared Detective Guan might just start shooting people.

Recalling how Guan Yingjun, covered in blood, had held Jian Ruochen in the back seat of his Jeep, ordering him to drive to the hospital…

Chen Jincai shivered silently, inserted the three incense sticks into the censer before Guan Yu, clasped his hands, and bowed again, muttering, “Little God of Wealth has accomplished so much this time—he deserves a Bauhinia Medal. With so many deities up there, please save this one for us.”

Less than two hours after he said this,

Jian Ruochen woke up.

At the same time,

Two medals, a commendation letter, and a note from the mainland arrived at the West Kowloon Regional Police Headquarters.

The note read: “The Public Relations Section will handle this. Read it as is.”