Chapter 26: Su Qingyue

“Snick—”

Slender fingers flicked open a lighter’s lid; after a faint hiss of escaping air, a flame leapt up, swayed twice, and burned steady.

Sang Ling held the lighter toward the sink before her in her right hand, while her left upended a bottle of accelerant—the kind common in the interstellar era—glugging it down.

In the pristine white ceramic sink lay a soaked baseball cap, a shoulder bag, and a jacket.

Once the entire 500ml bottle was empty, Sang Ling tossed the flaming lighter into the sink. Fire roared up in an instant, nearly licking the ceiling.

The water in the soaked clothes evaporated rapidly, and soon they caught fire too.

Wearing nothing but a black athletic tank, the Alpha watched expressionlessly, staring as the flames burned and danced, watching them die down until the clothes were nothing but a pile of black ash.

She turned on the faucet and the clear water carried the ashes down the drain, leaving no trace.

She had dug these things out of the Omega restroom on the hospital’s seventh floor. Deep in the night, with no one around, she had searched the stalls one by one until she found them beneath a tank.

Only when she was certain everything had burned clean, every trace erased, did Sang Ling walk out of the bathroom with the same indifferent face, pulling the door shut behind her.

She was now living in the hospital’s Alpha duty quarters.

In theory, those quarters were shared by all the Alpha doctors; in practice, she was the only combat medic at this hospital doing training, so she had the place to herself.

It was a suite: a small living room, a bathroom, and a bedroom.

Sang Ling figured it would be more than enough for her time undercover at the hospital.

She opened the mini-fridge in the living room and took out a can of ice-cold cola; the moment the aluminum met the air, countless fine droplets began to condense across it.

“Knock knock knock.”

Before she could pull the tab, a knock sounded at the door.

Sang Ling opened it to find her supervising physician, Cheng Hong, standing outside with an armful of medical textbooks.

“These books are for you…” Doctor Cheng began, looking up.

She froze.

“You…”

Sang Ling was in a sleeveless black tank, the clean lines of her arms fully on display. She seemed to have just showered—her hair was still damp, and the gray-white Suppressant Patch on her nape had been dotted with water.

Doctor Cheng quickly collected herself and handed over the books. “These textbooks should cover everything you need.”

“Thank you.” Sang Ling took them and hugged them to her chest. Seeing that Doctor Cheng hadn’t left, she asked, “Was there something else?”

Doctor Cheng reminded her, “You still haven’t returned the three work badges you took from us today.”

Sang Ling had taken their badges to keep anyone from entering Li Zhi’s room and harming her, and had simply kept forgetting to return them.

“One moment.”

She set the textbooks on the coffee table and produced the three badges. “I should tell you—this afternoon I already had Security Section deactivate them. None of these three badges can open Li Zhi’s room anymore.”

“Right now I’m the only person with access to Li Zhi’s room. If you need to administer any treatment, just call for me. I’ll accompany you the entire time.”

Doctor Cheng took the badges, was silent a moment, then asked anyway, “May I know why?”

The Alpha who had seemed so friendly in daylight was apparently not in the best mood now. Her brow arched.

“Doctor Cheng, there are things in this world you should want to know—like the knowledge in these textbooks you just gave me. That’s the kind of knowledge worth dying for at sunset once you’ve grasped it at dawn.”

“But as for some other things, it’s better not to be so curious.”

“Not knowing, perhaps, is the greater happiness.”

Her words carried, quite naturally, the unmistakable tone of an Alpha soldier.

Doctor Cheng asked nothing further and withdrew with good grace. “Then I’ll be off. Oh—right. The Dean asked me to tell you that the hospital’s President is coming to inspect in a couple of days.”

“Thank you. Understood.” Sang Ling nodded.

Doctor Cheng turned to leave. In her soft-soled shoes she made almost no sound in the corridor, but after nearly ten meters she suddenly looked back and asked:

“And you? Are there things even an Alpha is better off not knowing?”

The corner of Sang Ling’s mouth lifted slightly. “That has nothing to do with secondary sex.”

“I don’t know how other Alphas are. But there are things I genuinely wish I didn’t know.”

Early the next morning, Sang Ling reported to the Intensive Care Unit.

The unit occupied the ninth floor, with a nurses’ station in the middle; behind it stood several desks, a microwave, a coffee machine, and the like, where the day-shift staff could do light work.

Li Zhi’s Room 902 sat near the station, visible from where Sang Ling stood.

She flipped open one of the textbooks Doctor Cheng had given her, glanced at the emergency protocols for the respiratory system, and decided she could barely breathe herself.

Medicine is terrifying.

In no mood to study, she picked at her fingers, then fished out her light brain to play with—and found herself, without thinking, opening her chat with Lin Jinxu.

The last two messages were Lin Jinxu’s replies.

After Sang Ling had asked whether she was okay, the Omega had sent two lines.

“I’m fine.”

“No need to concern yourself.”

Utterly cold, rejection dripping from every word.

Sang Ling had been at a loss when she first read them; now she felt faintly aggrieved.

But what was there to be aggrieved about? What was Lin Jinxu to her, that she owed her any explanation?

Looking at the screen, Sang Ling sighed, closed the light brain, and tossed it aside.

Well. Now there truly was nothing to do but study.

She reopened the textbook and set upon the respiratory system with grim determination.

Three or four days passed in this dull, tedious study. Li Zhi still showed no sign of waking.

Sang Ling understood that this mission probably wouldn’t be ending anytime soon.

In that case, she might as well actually learn some useful medical knowledge—it would serve on a battlefield someday too.

By now she had also grown used to being treated like a giant panda by all the Betas at the hospital—had even, without any guilt whatsoever, begun accepting the snacks the nurses kept pressing on her.

It couldn’t be helped. Alphas really did get hungry far too easily.

That morning she sat at the station as usual, brewed three coffees, lined them up at her elbow, and worked up the courage to begin the nervous system.

But today all the other medical staff were hurrying about, and an undercurrent of anxiety ran through the hospital.

After asking around, Sang Ling remembered: today was the day the hospital’s President was coming to inspect.

Doctor Cheng swept past the station on a gust of momentum and told her to come downstairs to greet the visitor too.

Sang Ling agreed with studied indifference, checked once more that Li Zhi’s door was locked, and only then went downstairs to watch the spectacle.

The hospital’s main doors stood open, and a broad red carpet already unrolled through the vast lobby.

Both sides of the hall were packed with medical staff in white uniforms.

The Dean led a crowd of department directors waiting anxiously at the entrance.

Hiding in the crowd, Sang Ling thought, Just how much pomp does this President need?

After a long wait, a black stretch limousine finally came speeding up, its sleek lines gleaming with metallic luster.

The driver was clearly a master of the craft: fast yet perfectly smooth, stopping precisely at the carpet’s edge. Wearing white gloves, she stepped out and respectfully opened the rear door.

A pair of black stiletto heels touched down first, a long, slender, glossy calf emerging after. The newcomer wore an expensive skirt suit and sunglasses, and stepped out of the car without a flicker of expression.

Her secretaries swarmed up instantly. The poor old Dean, with her crowd of aging department directors, simply couldn’t push through.

Even in the crowd, Sang Ling’s excellent eyesight picked out the President at a glance.

Isn’t that Su Qingyue?

She clicked her tongue softly. She’d known Su Qingyue was the richest person alive, and that owning a hospital was perfectly normal for someone like her—but she still found it a nuisance.

That capitalist who just won’t die.

The moment Su Qingyue stepped out, several secretaries fell into step beside her, murmuring the day’s agenda into her ear while pressing stacks of documents toward her. She never stopped walking; from their reports and an occasional glance alone, she reached her conclusions.

“Kill this project.”

“Pull out of this investment.”

“Tell the current CEO of Su Entertainment that if she uses my money one more time to prop up some talent-show star with zero chance of turning a profit, she can clear her desk.”

…

She strode forward, the stilettos doing nothing at all to slow her, and the moment she crossed the hospital’s threshold she told the secretaries, “You’re all dismissed.”

The secretaries bowed slightly and melted away, quiet and quick.

Only then did the old Dean step forward with her directors.

“President Su.”

Faced with the venerable old Dean, Su Qingyue finally reined in a little of her arrogance and showed some respect, removing her sunglasses with a slight nod. “Dean.”

“Today I’ll show you around our hospital personally.” The old Dean extended a hand. “Please, follow me.”

The crowd drifted along after the Dean and Su Qingyue’s party, but Sang Ling had already lost interest. She left on her own and returned to her station to read.

Two hours later.

“This year we completed a comprehensive renovation of our inpatient wing and upgraded all our equipment. Beyond clinic hours, our doctors also rotate through inpatient duty.”

The old Dean led Su Qingyue into the inpatient building. “If you could stay a few more days, you’d see just how much this renovation has improved our efficiency in treating patients.”

Su Qingyue refused. “No. I’m only touring today. I have matters to attend to afterward.”

“Miss Su, our hospital’s changes this year really have been remarkable, and our results speak for themselves. I think you should look a while longer—especially at the Intensive Care Unit and general surgery…”

Su Qingyue raised her right hand, cutting the old Dean off. Two hours of touring had exhausted her patience.

“Dean, if you need additional funding this year, you’ll submit a request and the paperwork per the group’s regulations.”

“My time is too valuable to waste on repeated, meaningless tours.”

The old Dean was visibly taken aback by her coldness, and could only say helplessly, “Very well. There’s one last stop on today’s tour: our Intensive Care Unit.”

Su Qingyue frowned, having little interest, but kept silent and followed the old Dean up to the ninth floor of the inpatient building.

The unit wasn’t crowded—only a few nurses checking patients’ vital signs.

The Dean waved the nurses over and asked them to brief Su Qingyue on the unit’s current protocols. Su Qingyue nodded along, a faint smile on her face, meeting the nurses’ eyes.

“My thanks to you all. Having such dedicated medical staff is this hospital’s honor.”

She said it with sincerity, then turned to the old Dean. “That’ll be all for today’s tour. I’ll be leaving now.”

The Dean said, “I’ll see you out.”

Just as Su Qingyue was about to turn, she caught sight of a tall figure flashing past—quick as a ghost.

She stopped abruptly and walked toward where the figure had gone. Rounding a corner, she found the Alpha filling a cup at the water dispenser.

Sang Ling wore the white doctor’s coat, her medium-length hair pressed beneath its collar. Her expression was loose and relaxed as she watched the water stream into her cup.

In profile, her forehead was full, the bridge of her nose straight—a sculpture of clean, flowing lines.

Su Qingyue narrowed her eyes.

The white doctor’s uniform suited her.

The old Dean finally caught up, panting. “Miss Su…”

Su Qingyue cut her off, tilting her chin toward Sang Ling. “Why is she here?”

The Dean, of course, knew Sang Ling—the hospital’s only combat medic this year—and answered, “She’s the combat medic Alpha who came for training this year.”

Whatever else the Dean said, Su Qingyue didn’t hear a word of it. She simply gazed in Sang Ling’s direction, and the corners of her eyes curved.

“Dean, you invited me just now to stay a few more days for the tour, didn’t you.”

A genuine smile bloomed across her face. “I accept.”

It was eight in the evening when Sang Ling finally returned from the Intensive Care Unit.

She walked back with a group of nurses coming off shift, reached the Alpha duty quarters first, and gripped the door handle as she said her goodbyes.

“See you tomorrow.”

She pushed open her door—and saw at a glance the woman sitting on the sofa in the darkness.

The woman wore only the thin gown given to chemotherapy patients, a loose suit jacket draped carelessly over her shoulders, her legs bare from mid-thigh down. Her skin was so white it dazzled, startling in the gloom.

Su Qingyue tilted her head, utterly at ease. “Doctor, you’re finally here.”

A curse rose to Sang Ling’s lips.

She shot a quick glance at the nurses outside who hadn’t yet gone far; certain they’d noticed nothing, she spun inside and slammed the door.

“What’s wrong with you, dressing like that? Where are your clothes? I’ll find you some—you’ll freeze to death.”

Su Qingyue rose from the sofa and walked toward her barefoot, her gait beautiful, light as an orchid spirit.

She reached the stiff Sang Ling in a few steps and tapped a finger—jade-pale—against her chest.

President Su’s smile was radiant. “Remember our five dates?”

She leaned in close, her breath sweet against Sang Ling’s ear. “The first one’s theme was doctor and patient.“

She straightened, her eyes glistening as she looked at Sang Ling. “Doctor, will you save me?”