Incurable Chapter 1 Part 2

A few days ago, when Lin Wei had been rushed into the emergency by her studio coworkers, Liu Qianxiu had been the one who saw her.

At the time, she was in pain—but one look had lasted a lifetime. After the surgery, she almost grabbed a nurse’s hand and asked her every question she could think of.

“Daoist Liu” really was an unusual nickname. Leaning back in her chair, Mu Wan asked, “Why do they call him that?”

“He’s religious. Taoist. I heard he takes four days off every month for a quiet retreat at a Taoist temple. And if a patient in the emergency room doesn’t make it, he performs rites for them. But he’s personally very cold and distant. He barely interacts with anyone, almost like he has no worldly desires at all. Like some immortal.”

Only then did Mu Wan feel that her impression of Liu Qianxiu had become truly solid.

No wonder he seemed to carry that detached, transcendent air around him. So he really was religious.

“I guess Taoists are all like that—calm-hearted, free of desire, devoted to cultivation and immortality.” Mu Wan let the topic drop there. Talking about someone behind their back didn’t feel right. Besides, she had a good impression of Liu Qianxiu. He seemed like a person who had been cleansed somehow, especially pure. And as a doctor, he fought to save lives, and as a cultivator, he performed rites for the dead. Whether those rites had any real effect or not, they at least brought comfort and peace to the grieving family.

“Still, the name Liu Qianxiu sounds kind of familiar,” Mu Wan said, looking at Lin Wei.

“The head of the Liu family—one of the Four Great Young Masters of Xiacheng—is also called Liu Qianxiu,” Lin Wei said, ever well-informed, scooping up another spoonful of porridge. “But it’s probably just the same name. The head of the Liu family must be insanely busy. Why would someone like that come work as a doctor in a hospital? How much money could a doctor even make?”

“Maybe he doesn’t need the money. Maybe he’s here to heal people and seek spiritual redemption,” Mu Wan said.

Lin Wei rolled her eyes at her, as if to say, “Believe it if you want.” Mu Wan laughed.

She stayed with Lin Wei at the hospital until the rain stopped. Then, carrying her umbrella, she walked out of the inpatient building.

This rain had already lasted two full days, soaking the warm summer humidity through and through. The moment she stepped outside, the cool breeze after the rain brushed over her skin, carrying an unexpected chill.

Evening shadows had already begun to settle. The hospital buildings were all brightly lit, and the puddles on the ground reflected the lights in wavering patterns. Mu Wan stepped through one, shattering the reflection, then found her car and got in.

The instant she sat down, her phone chimed.

The screen lit up her face. After unlocking it, Mu Wan saw a transfer notification—her payment for the drama she had just finished filming.

She had chosen to attend film school for one simple reason: acting paid quickly.

Even if she never fought for attention and only played minor roles with little screen time, it was still enough to support herself.

She had grown up without a father, living with her mother in the Mu household. Later, after her mother passed away, Mu Wan moved out after finishing high school. Now she was truly alone in the world. She had signed with a small agency and played insignificant roles that no one noticed. Alone, but free. If she could feed herself, that was enough.

Actually, life like this wasn’t bad at all.

Not every drama revolved around the leads. Supporting roles were the reality for most actors.

She was probably the least ambitious actress in the entertainment industry.

After replying to the company accountant with a thank-you, Mu Wan set her phone aside and prepared to start the car. Her foot pressed the clutch, but before she could hit the ignition, she heard a dull knock against the window.

Someone was standing outside the dark glass.

His reflection on the window showed only a lean, tall silhouette; his features couldn’t be made out. Mu Wan stopped what she was doing and lowered the window.

As the black window slid down, it was like the curtain slowly rising on a stage play.

Outside stood the man.

He had already taken off his white coat, and without it, the polished, elite air of a doctor had faded, leaving behind an even stronger sense of something ethereal. He wore a linen shirt, loose and comfortable, yet somehow impeccably stylish on him. In one hand, he held a long black umbrella, folded shut, his fingers slim and his knuckles distinct around the handle.

The evening was cloaked in a thin layer of darkness, and beneath it his cool, pale skin almost seemed to glow.

Up close, his features were even more exquisite than they had looked from a distance—especially his eyes.

Dark, clear, and luminous, they looked transparent, yet their depth could not be seen through, like a still, bottomless pool.

When he saw that Mu Wan had opened the window, his expression remained quiet and gentle. He pointed beneath her car.

“Please wait. There’s a cat under your car.”

His voice was like clear spring water—low and cool.

It was Daoist Liu.

As Liu Qianxiu spoke, he had already moved to the rear of the car. A faint rustling sound followed. Resting her wrist on the window frame, Mu Wan tilted her eyes toward the rearview mirror.

In the small mirror, the man bent down, folding his long legs into a half-crouch. In his right hand, he held something that looked like a biscuit or a little snack. In the dim shadow, the outline of his profile was both blurred and distinct, like an unfinished watercolour.

Watching the space beneath the rear tyre, Liu Qianxiu called out in a calm, steady, gentle voice.

“Come here.”

In the narrow frame of the mirror, a cat emerged from beneath the car.

Mu Wan’s eyes flickered.

It was a calico cat, plump-bodied with a round belly, its fur grimy and dull with dust. The moment it came out, it lifted its head and meowed at Liu Qianxiu, soft and sweet, as though it knew him.

As soon as it was fully out, Liu Qianxiu did not hesitate. He bent down and picked it up in his arms.

The ground was still covered in puddles, and the cat’s paws were muddy. The instant it landed against Liu Qianxiu’s chest, it dirtied his shirt. Plum-blossom-shaped paw prints stamped themselves onto the linen fabric, but he did not seem to mind at all.

Lin Wei had said he barely interacted with people, yet with the cat, he was unexpectedly gentle.

Watching Liu Qianxiu holding the animal in his arms, his tall figure straight and elegant, Mu Wan suddenly felt as though she were looking at some immortal being half-hidden in misty heavens—vague, unreal, almost untouchable.

For one brief moment, she truly thought she might be looking at a god.

“Is that your cat?” Mu Wan asked, lifting her chin as she leaned both elbows on the window frame and looked at the man and the cat.

Liu Qianxiu turned back. The calico in his arms looked over, too. Inside the car, the woman was bright and vivid as flame, smiling at him with curved eyes and clear, sparkling pupils.

“No. It’s a stray.”

“It seems pretty close to you.” Mu Wan glanced at the cat. Its pupils had already dilated into dark round pools.

“I feed it sometimes,” Liu Qianxiu said.

Their conversation was simple.

She asked one question; he answered with one sentence. Never more than necessary.

He really was as detached as a chrysanthemum in clear water.

“You like cats?” Mu Wan asked with a faint smile.

“Mm.”

Again, just one brief reply.

After hearing it, Mu Wan lifted her shoulders slightly, her face scrunching up with a grin.

“Meow~”

The sound was light and short, neither too loud nor too soft. The sweetness in her voice mixed with her smile, like a marshmallow wrapped in chocolate sauce—soft, rich, and irresistibly charming.

The calico was startled by her imitation and twitched its ears, opening its eyes to look at her.

Behind the cat, the man’s lashes lifted slightly.

He looked at her with those eyes—silent and unruffled, vast and boundless.

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