Chapter 1 (1/2)
June in Xia City meant the rainy season had fully descended.
Under a heavy, overcast sky, the drizzle worked like a massive loom,
weaving a rhythmic, relentless pattern until the dry earth was thoroughly
drenched. Across the damp pavement, the rubber wheels of gurneys spun rapidly,
splashing dirty water amidst the anxious shouts of families and the barked
orders of doctors.
Mu Wan navigated the chaos, an umbrella in one hand and a steaming box
of porridge in the other. The warmth radiating from the paper container was a
small comfort against the gloomy, air-conditioned chill of the hospital lobby.
“I’m here. What floor are you on?” she asked into her phone, snapping
her umbrella shut and weaving through the dense crowd toward the elevators.
Over the phone, Lin Wei rattled off the floor and room numbers. Mu Wan
acknowledged them, then looked up at the digital display. The elevator had just
reached the 12th floor. It would be a while.
Outside, the rain was coming down harder now. Rainy days always meant a
spike in traffic accidents. The newly wheeled-in gurneys carried a steady
stream of trauma patients, their clothes torn, skin scraped, and bodies smeared
with blood and road grime.
The groans of the injured, the wails of their relatives, and the sharp,
urgent commands of the medical staff blended into a chaotic, sorrowful din that
echoed off the high ceiling of the lobby.
The sharp tang of disinfectant stung Mu Wan’s nose, mixing with the
humid chill of the air conditioning. She responded softly to Lin Wei on the
phone, the squeak of her wet sneakers on the linoleum accompanying her as her
gaze drifted toward the noisy, crowded ward beside her.
The ward was massive. The thick iron doors were propped open, and people
bustled back and forth. Figures in white coats weaved through the crowd like
shooting stars.
The oppressive, heavy atmosphere made Mu Wan slightly uncomfortable. She
averted her gaze, turning back to wait for the elevator. But in that split
second of looking away, her eyes locked onto a specific spot.
Amidst the frantic chaos of the ward, one corner was unnervingly quiet.
A man and a woman, both heavily bandaged, stood before a hospital bed. On the
bed lay a boy covered in blood and mud. His eyes were tightly shut, his face
locked in a lifeless, bluish-gray pallor.
On the other side of the bed stood a doctor and a nurse. Neither was
administering treatment. The nurse had her head bowed, her eyes red and
swimming with tears. The male doctor beside her was bent over, gently holding
the boy’s hand, which was caked in dried blood and dirt.
The doctor’s appearance was striking. He had high brow ridges, clear and
bright eyes, a straight nose, and slightly pressed, thin lips. He looked like
rain-washed bamboo hidden deep in a lush forest—distinct, crisp, and entirely
out of place in the grime of the ER. He possessed an otherworldly aura, a focal
point frozen in time amidst the chaos, standing aloof from the worldly dust.
He held the boy’s hand. The cuffs of his white coat were stained with a
few drops of blood and rainwater, the dark spots slowly bleeding into the
pristine fabric. He paid it no mind. His long, slender fingers enveloped the
boy’s small hand. His eyes were lowered, his expression perfectly, almost
unnervingly, calm.
The oppressive feeling in Mu Wan’s chest eased slightly. She blinked,
reminded of a scene she had witnessed years ago.
At a train station, a passenger had suffered sudden cardiac death. A
passing monk had held the deceased man’s hand just like this, quietly chanting
prayers for his departed soul.
Death was no stranger to a hospital. But when the doctor finally let go
of the boy’s hand and pulled the white sheet over the child’s head—triggering
the agonizing, gut-wrenching wails of the parents—a sudden chill crept into Mu
Wan’s heart.
At that exact moment, the doctor seemed to sense her gaze. He looked up.
His eyes were calm and profound. With a slight, sweeping glance, it was
like a cool breeze rustling through a bamboo forest, brushing gently against
her heart. Mu Wan was briefly stunned before she quickly looked away.
Ding.
The elevator arrived. Mu Wan glanced up at the glowing red Emergency
Room sign above the ward doors.
“Is there an ER on your floor?” she asked Lin Wei.
“What emergency room? Which building are you in?” Lin Wei’s voice
crackled through the receiver.
“The one right across from the main hospital entrance.”
“That’s the Emergency Building! I’m in the Inpatient Department!”
Mu Wan fell silent, realizing her mistake.
When she finally reached Lin Wei’s room, she set her damp umbrella by
the door. Lin Wei had already set up the small over-bed table, eagerly waiting
for her meal. She was two days post-appendectomy and restricted to liquids.
While Mu Wan had been out of town filming, Lin Wei had constantly whined about
the bland hospital food. Now that Mu Wan was back in Xia City, she had dropped
her luggage and gone straight to Xu’s Porridge Shop.
“How are you feeling? Does it still hurt?” Mu Wan set up the bowls and
chopsticks, then pulled up a chair.
She had just taken the train back from Wencheng, where it was
still hot and dry. She was dressed simply in a black T-shirt and white shorts.
As she sat down, she crossed her long legs, her posture relaxed and languid.
The overhead light caught the sharp, elegant line of her jaw and the
delicate, palm-sized oval of her face. She possessed a wild, untamed glamour,
reminiscent of the striking, iconic beauties of 1980s Hong Kong cinema. Her
large, dark eyes were clear and captivating, exuding a charming allure that was
elegant yet entirely untouchable. At 1.7 meters tall, with a slender waist and
perfectly toned figure, she commanded a quiet, high-class sophistication that
demanded respect without asking for it.
“As long as I don’t pull the incision, it doesn’t hurt.” Lin Wei ate her
porridge, blowing on it gently.
After a few bites, she glanced at Mu Wan, who was staring out the
window, lost in thought.
“What are you thinking about?” Lin Wei waved her spoon in front of Mu
Wan’s face.
Outside, the rain had slowed. Large drops gathered on the windowsill and
rolled down the glass, leaving winding trails.
“I saw a doctor while waiting for the elevator,” Mu Wan said, pulling
her gaze back. “He seemed to be chanting prayers for a little boy who had just
passed away.”
Doctors were meant to save the living; chanting prayers was for the
dead. The concepts were contradictory. Yet, Lin Wei wasn’t surprised. Instead,
her eyes lit up, and she nearly dropped her spoon.
“Was Doctor Liu really handsome?”
Mu Wan paused, her chopsticks hovering.
“You know him? He is quite handsome.” She smiled, recalling his face. It
had been a plain, unbothered face, but that single, sweeping glance when he
looked up had left a deep impression.
“Doctor Liu Qianxiu from the Surgery Department. His nickname is ‘Daoist
Liu.’ He’s the emotional anchor for all the female staff at Tang’er Hospital.”
Lin Wei had been rushed to the ER by her studio colleagues a few days
ago, and Liu Qianxiu was the one who treated her. She had been in agonizing
pain, but one look at him, and it was love at first sight. After her surgery,
she had pestered the nurses until they spilled all the gossip.
“Daoist Liu.” Mu Wan leaned back in her chair, tracing the rim of her
water glass. “Why did they give him such a nickname?”
“He’s religious—Daoism, specifically. I heard he takes four days off
every month for silent retreats at a temple. If there’s a patient in the ER
they couldn’t save, he’ll chant prayers for the departed. But his personality
is incredibly cold. He barely interacts with anyone, completely detached from
worldly desires.”
Hearing this, Mu Wan’s impression of him solidified. No wonder he had
given off such an ethereal vibe.
“I guess all Daoist followers are like that, right? Clearing their
minds, abandoning desires.” She didn’t press further; gossiping wasn’t her
style. She had a good impression of him. He felt incredibly pure. As a doctor,
he fought for the living; as a cultivator, he chanted for the dead. It brought
peace to the grieving.
“Actually, the name Liu Qianxiu sounds a bit familiar,” Mu Wan mused.
“The head of the Liu family, one of the Four Young Masters of Xia City,
is also named Liu Qianxiu.” Lin Wei scooped up some porridge. “But it’s
probably just a coincidence. The head of the Liu family is busy managing his
empire; why would he work as a doctor? How much money can a doctor even make?”
“Maybe he doesn’t lack money and became a doctor to pursue spiritual
redemption?” Mu Wan teased.
Lin Wei rolled her eyes, giving her a look that clearly said, Use
your imagination.
Mu Wan just smiled.
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