Wacheng City People's Hospital.

Wei Song had just finished emergency surgery for his injuries. His forehead, arms, chest, and back were professionally bandaged and stitched up, especially his right hand, which was now in a cast.

Zhang Yang jogged to room 303 where Wei Song was staying. He peeked in through the glass on the door to make sure he was at the right place and then pushed the door open, rushing in.

"Wei, how are you feeling now?"

Zhang Yang took a good look at Wei Song as he entered. When he saw the bandages on Wei Song's body and head, his face turned ashen, and his eyes narrowed.

Those familiar with Zhang Yang knew that whether he was joking around or being serious, he rarely had that expression of narrowed eyes. When he did, it only meant one thing—he was really angry.

As mentioned before, the conflict with Qian Wenjun originated with Meng Fan, which was a matter within Zhang Yang's own team. It actually had little to do with Wei Song.

The last time they encountered Ma Weiqi at Zhang's Lobster Restaurant, Wei Song took Zhang Yang's side and got involved, which led to today's retaliation.

In the end, Wei Song's current state was rooted in Zhang Yang and his friends' issues.

Zhang Yang might not be a saint, but he absolutely stands by his friends. Now, because of him, a friend is severely injured, and anger surged from his heart, pushing him to the brink of losing control.

"Zhang Yang, you're here, find a place to sit... Xiao Na, wash some fruit for Zhang Yang and his friends."

Wei Song moved with difficulty but still used his left hand to gesture toward the small folding bed for Zhang Yang and the others to sit. He also directed his wife to take care of them.

"Sister-in-law, don't worry about it. Just take a rest. What's going on, Wei?" Zhang Yang continued to ask.

"Last night, I went to a local black hole to fish and played a little. By the time I was leaving, it was already past eleven in the evening. I hadn't had dinner, so I found a random barbecue stand with a friend to grab a bite!

The meat skewers had just been served when they came. About seven or eight people got out of a Changhe van, all wearing masks! Without a word, they rushed at me and started hitting!"

When talking about being beaten, Wei Song seemed rather calm, as if recounting something trivial.

"They all had their faces covered?"

"Yes, but I recognized Ma Weiqi! They came directly for me, didn't say a word after getting out of the car and just started swinging. My friend sitting opposite me was untouched!"

"Did you report it? How do you plan to handle this?"

Zhang Yang suppressed his anger, took a deep breath, and continued to ask about the situation.

"My right hand took several hits with an iron rod. I guess I won't be able to fish for the rest of my life! They did it on purpose!"

Wei Song didn't answer Zhang Yang's question about reporting the incident, instead replying with something seemingly unrelated.

Hearing this, Zhang Yang immediately looked down at Wei Song's right hand.

From forearm to hand, it was all wrapped up, covered in thick layers like a dumpling.

Seeing Zhang Yang remain silent, Wei Song added a few more words: "The doctor said the tendons in my hand suffered blunt trauma. Even if it heals well, I'll at best regain simple gripping function. Thinking about restoring normal strength and dexterity is practically impossible!"

"Damn it!"

Zhang Yang didn't speak, but Meng Fan couldn't contain himself any longer and burst out swearing aggressively.

Angry, Meng Fan's nostrils flared, his chest heaved violently, and his gaze darted around aimlessly, clearly agitated.

After training with Zhang Yang for so long, Meng Fan had at least entered the gateway of professional competitive angling.

Having come this far, he deeply understood how hard it was to achieve results in this industry. Financial investment was just the basic requirement, and anglers striving for this path had to endure immense pressure from all sides.

Now Wei Song had already earned enough points and ranking for a certification, just waiting until the end of the year to receive the Third-level Competitive Fishing Master certification. By then, whether signing as an angler with a tackle company or joining a competition team, the future looked promising—a case of triumph after hardship.

But now, with all the hard work paying off, his hand was ruined, meaning all previous investments were for naught.

As a fishing enthusiast, having his rod-wielding hand destroyed was tantamount to losing half his livelihood.

Meng Fan deeply understood the significance of all this, which was why he was so dismayed.

"Xiao Fan, calm down!" Zhang Yang tugged on Meng Fan's arm.

"Calm down about what?! This is not something you can calm down about! This happened because of me; Wei got caught up and harmed because of me. I'm definitely taking this all the way!

I'm arranging a transfer to Beijing right now, to handle his hand first!

Leave the rest to me! If I don't get these bastards jailed for a good ten, eight years to teach them a lesson, I won't be called Meng!!"

Meng Fan was furious, and the consequences were severe. He left the room, walked to the corridor, and made long phone calls.

In the beginning, his voice was relatively calm, but as disagreements seemed to arise, he became more agitated, eventually loudly arguing to the point where those inside the room could hear him having an intense argument with someone.

A dozen minutes later, Meng Fan returned to the room looking as composed as usual.

"Two things: First, we report the case, file the records, and get the injuries evaluated!

Second, after dealing with reporting the case, we directly transfer to the PLA General Hospital! I'll have my uncle contact experts for a new recovery plan!

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