Chapter 15

Peng Xiaoshuai had been hunkered down in the hallway for a full hour, waiting patiently for his target to appear.

Dean Zhang finally swept in from outside, looking windswept and weary, dressed in a sharp three-piece suit with his hair meticulously styled—not a strand out of place.

Peng Xiaoshuai nearly stumbled right off the stairs in his excitement. He fumbled for his phone, aimed it squarely at the man, and hammered the shutter button like his life depended on it.

Only when Dean Zhang stepped into the elevator did Peng Xiaoshuai pocket his phone again. He fired off a message to his buddy on WeChat, who’d been riding shotgun with him the whole time: 【The guy showed up—dressed to the nines, too. Wonder what his wife will think when she sees this.】

The replies came flooding back almost instantly:

-【Holy shit, he actually came.】

-【This spot for their little rendezvous is ballsy as hell. Safest place is the most dangerous one, huh?】

-【But pics of them heading upstairs don’t prove jack. Plenty of other people went up too.】

-【The building’s pushing three hundred floors—who the hell started this rumor? Now everyone’s hounding you for hard evidence.】

Peng Xiaoshuai tapped into the link. His supporters and detractors were dead even now, split right down the middle. The haters were vicious, calling him a creep, a brain-dead loser, scum of the earth—claiming his twisted heart turned everything he saw pitch-black.

Every insult he read stoked the fire in his chest higher.

He wasn’t doing this for himself. It was for Little Moon. For every patient who’d come to Lin Qimian for help and walked away wronged.

Little Moon’s story was just the tip of the iceberg. Once he exposed the dirt between Lin Qimian and Dean Zhang, stripped away her powerful protector, all the other skeletons would come crawling out of the woodwork.

It was dangerous work, the kind that threw personal safety straight out the window. But those vicious comments were a constant reminder: this was something he had to do.

To clear his name. To bring a sliver of justice back to this rotten world!

The thought filled Peng Xiaoshuai with a surge of heroic fervor. Setbacks only fueled his resolve.

-【There’ll be proof. Ironclad, undeniable proof.】

He shot back at his friend.

Message sent, he sauntered over to the nurses’ station. A bit of lighthearted banter later, he’d smoothly pocketed the elevator card sitting right there on her desk.

By this hour, the hospital had emptied out. The New Building was dead silent.

Peng Xiaoshuai started his search on the fifth floor and worked his way up. Sure enough, it wasn’t until the top floor that he spotted light spilling from a room.

A single room aglow, faint voices murmuring inside.

He clipped his phone to the pocket over his chest, making sure the camera had a clear shot to record everything he was about to witness.

He strode toward the door, the wind in his mind howling like the chill gales at Easy Water, his heart swelling with unyielding ambition. He seized the doorknob and shoved it down.

To his shock, the door wasn’t locked.

He’d planned to catch them off guard anyway. Now it felt like the gods themselves were on his side. As the door swung open, a grin split his face—he couldn’t hold it back, his muscles twitching with glee.

Sticking to the script, Peng Xiaoshuai feigned surprise at stumbling in. “Ah! Someone’s in here!”

The room was brightly lit. Clothes and odds and ends were strewn across the table and sofa. The bedcovers were pulled back, and there was clearly someone huddled beneath them.

The figure by the bedside had just been leaning over but now straightened up—tall, slender, poised. It was Lin Qimian, no doubt about it.

Peng Xiaoshuai’s mouth hung open as he played up the shock. “Ah, Doctor Lin!”

He seized the moment to press his advantage. “What are you doing up here? I didn’t hear about any patients…”

Lin Qimian turned to look at him.

A mask and glasses obscured her face, leaving only her eyebrows and a flicker of inscrutable emotion in her eyes to betray her thoughts.

She seemed stunned, maybe a touch confused. But she stood there steady as a rock, hands tucked into the pockets of her white coat, posture impeccable—no hint of panic.

Peng Xiaoshuai took a step inside, angling his chest so the phone’s lens pointed straight at the bed. He wanted that face in frame. “It’s so late… You haven’t clocked out yet?”

Lin Qimian finally spoke, cutting him off clean. “What are you doing?”

The camera wouldn’t catch his face from this angle, so Peng Xiaoshuai stopped caring how he looked to her. He barreled straight for the bed. One more step—just one—and all the filth would be laid bare for the world.

But right as that step was about to land, Lin Qimian blocked his path. Her hand clamped onto his shoulder—slender fingers like an eagle’s talons, digging straight into the gaps between his bones.

Pain exploded through him. Peng Xiaoshuai let out a howl.

Lin Qimian kept her grip on his shoulder blade and flung him backward like a rag doll.

“You’re scared!” Peng Xiaoshuai bellowed. “You think you can stop me now?

“You think you’ll still be Doctor Lin once this gets out?

“What about that oath you swore when you became a doctor? What about your parents who raised you?

“I respected you—looked up to you like a teacher—and this is how you repay it…”

“It’s pretty bad.” Lin Qimian murmured softly, her face twisted in an expression too complex to put into words.

She scooted toward the head of the bed, trying to block Xu Yueliang’s line of sight and spare her this distressing scene. But Xu Yueliang suddenly thrust out her arm, shoving Lin Qimian aside.

She nearly tumbled right off the bed, heedless of the IV needle still jabbed into the back of her hand, and yelled at Peng Xiaoshuai, “That’s not how it is! I won’t let you talk about Doctor Lin like that!”

Lin Qimian: “…”

At last, the figure on the bed came fully into Peng Xiaoshuai’s view—and into the frame of his phone camera.

Peng Xiaoshuai stood frozen, utterly unable to fathom that the person furtively carrying on with Lin Qimian was none other than his cherished Little Moon.

When he’d called earlier to check on Xu Yueliang’s post-op recovery, she’d branded him a liar and hung up on him in a fury—clearly, she’d lost all faith in Youhai Stomatology and every doctor inside it.

So why was she still here? With an IV dripping into her vein?

Inspiration struck Peng Xiaoshuai like a bolt, and only one explanation fit. He blurted out to Xu Yueliang in agitation, “Moon, how are you doing? Did you get an infection? Was something wrong with the surgery? Don’t worry—tell me everything. I know tons of top doctors; I’ll sort this out for you. Don’t let her fool you anymore. She—”

Xu Yueliang’s brows knitted together as she gritted her teeth against the lingering ache in her wound. She enunciated every word clearly: “Doctor Lin is a top doctor.

“I didn’t get an infection. The surgery went perfectly. It’s just my constitution—I’m prone to a little inflammation.

“Doctor Lin’s a good person. I’m basically fine now. I switched to this ward because the other building was too crowded and noisy.

“It’s the VIP Ward. I paid for it myself! This has nothing to do with Doctor Lin!”

Peng Xiaoshuai: “…”

Lin Qimian: “Pfft.”

She glanced down at Xu Yueliang’s arm. “Baby, your needle’s crooked.”

Xu Yueliang’s face flushed crimson in an instant.

Peng Xiaoshuai: “…”

Lin Qimian had zero interest in entertaining the fool. She hauled Xu Yueliang back into place. “Sit.”

Xu Yueliang puffed like a landed fish, her body obediently sinking back onto the bed while her mouth kept running: “I want you to stop spreading lies. Doctor Lin’s an incredibly dedicated doctor. She’s wonderful to everyone! No… selfish motives whatsoever!”

Her voice faltered on that last bit, confidence waning.

Xu Yueliang stole a quick peek at Lin Qimian. The doctor was focused on fixing the wayward needle in the back of her hand, her touch swift yet feather-light. Xu Yueliang felt no pain at all.

Emboldened, she sat up straighter, brimming with assurance. “I’m her patient. I can vouch for her!”

“Enough.” Lin Qimian readjusted the IV line and gave Xu Yueliang’s shoulder a pat. “Be good and sit still. Just a little more medicine—finish the bag properly.”

Xu Yueliang bobbed her head vigorously. “Mm! Whatever Doctor Lin says, I do!”

“Good.” Lin Qimian flashed her a smile.

Peng Xiaoshuai remained rooted to the spot, his entire body rigid.

Lin Qimian wheeled on him, clamped a hand around his arm, and dragged him toward the door.

He offered no resistance, letting her haul him bodily out of the ward.

Once the door clicked shut behind them, she marched him all the way to the stairwell before releasing her grip.

She plucked the phone from his chest pocket. He lunged for it on reflex, but she sidestepped with practiced ease.

The screen still showed the recording in progress—nearly ten minutes already.

Lin Qimian kept it rolling, aiming the camera squarely at Peng Xiaoshuai’s face. “Well? Anything else you want to accuse me of?”

Every trace of his confusion, mortification, and discomfort was laid bare under the lens.

The exposed skin peeking from his collar burned red. His features contorted as he made another desperate grab for the phone.

Lin Qimian lifted her hand and wagged a single index finger at him.

Peng Xiaoshuai went still as a statue, like a well-trained dog fixated on the command, all motion ceasing.

It was a gesture Fang Huizhen used often—deployed to hush him, halt his missteps, and compel him to buckle down and study.

Fang Huizhen was his teacher. Lin Qimian held the same rank; she was his teacher too.

Patients from their school rarely addressed doctors by title in the hospital. They stuck to “Teacher,” just like back in class.

It was fondness. It was respect.

He’d always held his teachers in the highest regard. How had things spiraled into this?

Peng Xiaoshuai hunched over, the blaze in his chest doused like a fire plunged into the sea. A chill seeped through him.

Rack his brains as he might, he couldn’t make sense of it. At last, he mumbled, “Why won’t you let me be your assistant? You promised me…”

Lin Qimian said, “Because you have a soft spot for Xu Yueliang. You weren’t calm at all when you saw her. I’m not sure you could stay level-headed during the surgery.”

Peng Xiaoshuai squatted down, plunging his hands into his hair and yanking viciously. “Then why didn’t you let me see Xu Yueliang? That was after hours…”

Lin Qimian replied, “You were so wrapped up in your own thoughts that you probably didn’t notice—Xu Yueliang doesn’t want anyone at the hospital recognizing her as a streamer. She showed up without makeup, without any special effort on her appearance, and not even a friend by her side.

“She never let slip a word about her job during our conversations. But you? You’ve already spread it all over the hospital that a famous internet streamer is getting a tooth pulled at Youhai…”

Lin Qimian arched an eyebrow and let out a sigh. “And you made a point of stressing it to me, over and over.”

Peng Xiaoshuai froze completely. He looked up at Lin Qimian, his eyes threaded with red veins. “Why didn’t you tell me before, when I asked?”

Her tone was even, utterly serene. “Because I’m not your mom.”

She minimized the phone’s camera to the background, pulled up Peng Xiaoshuai’s browsing history, and navigated to that medical forum.

She scrolled through the post records, took screenshots, then opened WeChat and found her own contact.

Lin Qimian’s main account handled her work and the little personal life she had; for simplicity, she’d named it after herself.

But Peng Xiaoshuai had renamed her in his contacts: 【Female Demon Lin】.

Lin Qimian sent the screenshot. “Thanks.”

Once she was done, she tossed the phone back to him. “I don’t need the video. Deal with it however you see fit. Watch it a couple more times when you’ve got nothing better to do.

“That forum thread’s already a mile high, packed with personal attacks on me and privacy violations. I’ll pass it along to my lawyer.

“If you’ve got any lingering questions about Xu Yueliang’s treatment here, gather your evidence and submit it to the Hospital Administration Office.”

Lin Qimian paused, then broke into a sudden smile. “And if you’re worried I’ve got some cozy connection to the office, feel free to go over their heads—file a complaint straight with the Dean.

“Dean Zhang will handle it fairly.”