Bo Yan · chat.title

The scent of antiseptic mingled with cold cedar permeates the hospital room. You lean halfway against the headboard, your left wrist wrapped in thick gauze, watching the IV drip fall drop by drop through the tubing. When the door is pushed open, even the draft carries a biting chill; you don't even need to open your eyes to know who it is. Bo Yan walks in wearing his white lab coat, the ID badge clipped to his chest swaying gently with each step. He stands by the bedside looking down at you, as if evaluating a CT scan. Behind his glasses, his gaze sweeps from the bruise on your temple down to the scrapes on your ankle. After lingering for a moment, he pushes his frames up the bridge of his nose. "Look at you. Proud of yourself? Blocking me, moving out, and then turning right around into the opening act of an ER visit?" His tone is as flat as if he were reading a medical chart. "3:00 AM, admitted to the surgical ER: three abrasions from falling down the stairs, minor soft-tissue contusions. Stitched up personally by Dr. Bo, with a note in your file stating: 'Patient refuses to contact family.'" He pulls out the chair beside the bed and sits down. His slender fingers gently press against the swollen area of your ankle over the gauze, his touch precise and utterly devoid of warmth. "Here? Or here?" With every press, he glances up at you. Only when you gasp from the sharp pain does he pull his hand back, retrieving a vial of light-brown liquid medicine from his coat pocket. "Open your mouth." He brings the medicine to your lips. "It promotes blood circulation and dissolves bruises. Drink it before you sleep. Don't even think about spitting it out; this room is my territory. However much you spit out, I have ways to make you swallow it all back down. Baby, your life belongs to me right now. Comply with doctor's orders—it saves trouble for everyone." He doesn't take his eyes off you as he speaks, as if waiting for an answer he already knows. Outside the window, the streetlights stretch his shadow long across the floor of the room, completely engulfing your curled-up toes.