Chapter 51: He Lost His Memory

After a brief hesitation, Zhong Xiao did not rush to the military hospital to check on the situation there. She was not familiar with those people yet, and going there would only result in awkward silence; it was better to focus on her own tasks first. Later, depending on their needs, she would prepare medicine or other items nourished with spiritual spring water, to see if she could be of any help.

Thus, Zhong Xiao returned to her space and chose to use spiritual spring water to nurture all the current crops and fruits, then began concocting medicine. While Zhong Xiao was busy searching for each item on Zuo Lan's list, the doctors and nurses at the Taizhou Island Military District Hospital were already overwhelmed with work.

The rescue team, along with the soldiers previously trapped at the front lines, had returned to Taizhou Island, and upon arrival, immediately brought everyone to the hospital. Commander Song, leading the group, stepped off the plane and gave his first orders: "Set up a temporary conference room in the hospital, I have something to say. Also, prioritize treatment for the most severely injured soldiers, and arrange for a neurologist... to examine Colonel Song."

Commander Song Qingfeng’s expression was grave, his brows furrowed with worry. He was tall and robust, nearly six feet three, his military jacket draped over his shoulders, radiating authority without anger. A scar marked his face, but he refused treatment, insisting it was only a superficial wound and that medical resources should be used for others first.

Emerging slowly behind him was Song Ting Shen, whose presence contrasted sharply with the Commander. Song Ting Shen bore little resemblance to him; his features had wholly inherited Zuo Lan’s beauty: sharp brows, bright eyes, a high-bridged nose, and a strong, chiseled jaw. His thin lips heightened his severe aura, and years of outdoor training, missions, and time at the front lines had given his skin a bronze hue, making his features even more striking.

His entire bearing exuded masculinity—broad shoulders, a narrow waist, a nearly perfect head-to-shoulder ratio. Even clad in a battered uniform with several prominent scars on his face, he could not hide his innate charisma and unforgettable handsome appearance. Yet, there was something amiss in his gaze.

Within those sharp eyes, a trace of coldness lingered; he looked at everyone with indifference. As he stepped off the plane, Song Ting Shen silently and coolly regarded his surroundings. The eyes of others held complex emotions when they looked at him, but his gaze toward them was nearly identical—aloof and distant, detached yet piercing.

They rode a jeep back to the Taizhou Island Military District Hospital, and someone opened the door, guiding Song Ting Shen out. The hospital was overcrowded, and Song Ting Shen stood quietly beside the corridor. He neither urged nor questioned, his sharp eyes calmly surveying everything before him.

There were too many wounded; the beds were all occupied, and many soldiers lay directly in the corridor on makeshift stretchers. Despite their injuries, the corridor was eerily quiet, with hardly a cry of pain. Even those gravely wounded bit their lips and endured silently as medicine was applied. Everything was orderly, except for Song Ting Shen’s silent presence in the corner, which seemed oddly out of place.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps approached from not far away, evidently heading toward Song Ting Shen. In that instant, his previously calm and sharp gaze turned vigilant, and he turned toward the sound, his eyes steely.

He saw a woman with twin braids rushing over, her brows furrowed in anxiety; her eyes reddened slightly upon seeing Song Ting Shen, her manner full of concern. “Ting Shen—” Hou Manling reached out, trying to grasp his arm.

Song Ting Shen, however, was wary, swiftly sidestepping. Though one arm was injured and bent across his chest, he nimbly seized Hou Manling’s wrist with his other hand, twisting it behind her.

Hou Manling was instantly subdued, crying out in pain, “Ah! It hurts—it hurts...”

Her voice startled the wounded in the corridor, who looked up to see Song Ting Shen coldly restraining Hou Manling with one hand. Perhaps seeing she was dressed as a nurse, Song Ting Shen did not use excessive force. Once he ensured she could not touch him, he slowly released her, stepped back, and maintained a one-foot distance.

“Who are you?” Song Ting Shen asked, looking at Hou Manling. His voice was low and slightly hoarse, devoid of emotion, calm and sharp.

Hou Manling’s eyes widened, oblivious to the pain in her wrist. She covered her mouth, staring at him in disbelief. Until she met his eyes—eyes devoid of emotion, dark and bottomless.

Only then did Hou Manling realize—he truly did not recognize her.

Song Ting Shen... had lost his memory.