Wooing my Bodyguard Wife - Chapter 342 Injury!

Whatever niggling guilt Sun Haowei felt for destroying his wife’s precious garden had evaporated immediately when he entered his mansion.

If he was a lesser man, he would have walked out again, just to check if he had got the correct house. But since this was the only mansion for miles, and he wasn’t stupid enough to end up walking to another estate, he was absolutely sure that this was his house!

No matter how much it didn’t look like it!

“Are my eyes playing tricks on me? What is the meaning of this?” Sun Haowei asked rhetorically. The meaning was clear, it was another one of his wife’s petty tricks to get him to divorce her.

His butler didn’t reply; he was too busy gawking at the stairs.

“Young Master!” The maids chorused. Noticeably, they all remained on the second floor, refusing to take even a step downwards to greet him. They were on higher ground, but he supposed he could be lenient enough to forgive this lapse in protocol.

His wife was inconveniencing everyone, but he’ll prove that this was just a stupid tactic in the face of his resilience and intelligent.

(Besides, the handrail was still there. He could always grab it if necessary.)

He slowly walked up the stairs, so that he could seem more imposing and unbothered, and definitely not because the patterns were forming illusions in his mind. With every step, the gnawing pit in his stomach grew. It felt like he was walking up a skyscraper without any support.

‘Don’t look down’, he chastised himself. If he kept his eyes up and ahead, and remained focused, there was no way he could fall.

“Sun Haowei! You better explain yourself!” A woman screamed, storming into the hall.

Sun Haowei paused – that sounded a lot like his wife, even though he had never heard her scream his name before. He whirled around and that tiny moment of distraction was all that was needed for him to lose his balance.

He grabbed onto the railing for dear life, only for his hand to slide down – how the fuck was it so slippery?! His feet tangled together as he tried to right himself, and he instinctively looked down and experienced a sense of vertigo so strong it sent him stumbling down the stairs.

This, along with the slipping of the handrail, was just enough to send him off balance. Sun Haowei felt his body tilt forward, and shrieked.

“Fuck! Someone help me!”

“Sir!”

“Oh no!”

“Someone grab him!”

But it was too late. The maids stretched out their hands, but he was facing the wrong way and too far away from them to reach. His arms spun like windmill blades, and he screamed. His butler’s mouth had fallen open in shock, but he noticeably didn’t reach forward to save him.

He fell.

And that was how a houseful of servants were treated with the incredible, awe-inspiring, once in a lifetime view of Sun Haowei tumbling down the stairs. Sun Haowei felt pain lace through his right ankle and cursed even as his head knocked against every step on the way down.

“Sir! Someone call a doctor!” The servants panicked. If Sun Haowei could catch his breath, he’d tell them to save it. What’s the point of worrying about him now when they couldn’t even be arsed to help him?

But thankfully, before he could brain his skull on the cold marble floor one last time, there was a warm hand supporting the back of his head.

“My ankle hurts. My butt hurts,” He grumbled woozily to the blurry stranger, much like a child trying to stay awake, or him after a rough night.

“I know, I know, so sorry,” a voice said gently to him, petting his head. He closed his eyes, but they were forcefully opened by the stranger. He blinked again, and the blurry image focused – to form his wife!

“Are you alright? How many fingers am I holding?” Bi Yu asked worriedly, holding up two fingers with her other hand.

Sun Haowei snarled and wanted to get out of her hold, but his body felt strangely heavy and reluctant to move from its spot on the floor. His wife then pulled his head up so he was pillowed on her thigh, and Sun Haowei blinked, wondering if he was hallucinating her tenderness.

“You.” He growled out, staring woozily at his wife, torn between disgust and admiration. He thought this wife of his was a soft, tender-hearted woman. But instead she cooked up such a scheme to cause him brain injury!

She stared back down at him, looking incredibly apologetic. “You tried to kill me!”

“I did not!” Bi Yu protested hotly, even as a guilty flush crawled up her cheeks. She was angry at him, but now she was also angry at herself. This was what she had in mind, but it didn’t feel as good as she imagined. He could have died!

“I only wanted to injure you a bit! And answer my question, how many fingers am I holding?”

“How is that any better?” Sun Haowei complained.

“How many fingers am I holding?” Bi Yu repeated, ignoring his question.

“Two! I think,” Sun Haowei said, frowning. “And I can’t believe you tried to have me murdered. That’s cold-hearted of you.”

Bi Yu sighed. “I’m just going to assume you have brain damage since you keep assuming things that aren’t there.” She looked up and asked, “has anyone called a doctor?”

“Yes we have, he’ll be here shortly.” The butler said, his face pale with worry. “For now, we should get the Young Master to his room…”

His voice trailed off as he gazed at the staircase again. If they were to carry their young master, they might accidentally drop him!

“Okay, I’ll carry him. Ming Yan, help me.” Bi Yu said, and all the servants spluttered.

“Like hell you will! Butler Zhang, stop her” Sun Haowei choked out. Not only was it unseemly for his wife to be doing labour like this, she was the one that injured him! What if she took offence to something he said and tossed him back down again like a sack of garbage down the chute?

“Madame, surely you shouldn’t…” Butler Zhang tried to protest, but he quietened when she shot him a steely glare.

“If you’re worried I’ll kick him down, then you and the other maids can follow behind me to catch his fallen body!”

“Yes Madame!”

“No,” Sun Haowei protested, but it was futile, he found one of his arms draped around his wife’s shoulder, the other over her maid, and they dragged him up the stairs despite his best efforts to escape.

Admittedly, his best efforts were pretty lousy. He couldn’t even put his weight on his right ankle, his head and shoulders ached, and he was realising that his wife smelled very nice, even when he knew she was just outside working in the garden.

Bi Yu paused with alarm, feeling Sun Haowei shift in her hold. “Are you feeling alright? Do you want to vomit?”

“No,” Sun Haowei said as he continued to breathe deeply through his nose. Her scent continued to entice him.

Bi Yu frowned; he must be in more pain than she realised! Once again, Bi Yu mentally scolded herself for her actions. She wanted a divorce, but she didn’t want to hurt him. She wasn’t Yue Niang.

Meanwhile Ming Yan turned to stare at Sun Haowei, an incredulous expression on her face.

“Are you sniffing my lady?” Ming Yan demanded, too bothered to be polite.

“No, that’s preposterous.” Sun Haowei said primly, and proceeded to take a long drawn out sniff again, nearly burying his nose in her hair. Ming Yan caught Bi Yu’s eyes; her lady shook her head minutely, so Ming Yan decided to drop the issue.

Maybe Sun Haowei had a concussion.

They managed to get him tucked into his bed, and the doctor looked him over. The verdict?

A sprained ankle that was now in a cast, and a possible concussion. He gave strict instructions for his care that left Sun Haowei reeling – he wasn’t allowed to drink until he recovered fully, and he couldn’t even sleep for the first 24 hours! No one wanted him to pass her away in his sleep.

Well, he’s sure someone wanted him to die. His eyes darted to his wife listening attentively to the physician. He’s sure she’s going to do the exact opposite of his instructions.

“Do look after him carefully, Madame,” the physician said, peering at Bi Yu over his wire-rim glasses, as though he could guess why a man of Sun Haowei’s status could have ended up flat on his back. The skin around his eyes was wrinkled, but his gaze was piercing. “He is your husband and needs your care.”

“Yes Doctor,” Bi Yu said, nodding politely. “I’ll do as you say.”

A disbelieving snort escaped Sun Haowei’s mouth before he could stop it.

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