Qin Guan stood outside the hospital room door, his mind ringing with a deafening buzz. "Qi Min mentioned my father's death, my father..." At the mention of her recently deceased father, Xu Ruyi's voice dissolved into muffled sobs.
Qin Guan held his breath. His lungs seemed to freeze mid-inhalation, his heart stalling in his chest. He swallowed hard, craning his neck like a hooked fish, ears straining to catch every whisper through the door. But Xu Ruyi's voice grew fainter, fractured by grief: "She said... she knew... my father..." The rest faded beyond hearing.
Restless as a cat-scratched heart, Qin Guan leaned too eagerly forward. His forehead bumped the heavy old door, eliciting a creaky groan. The sound startled Xu Ruyi into silence.
Forced to act, Qin Guan pushed through the door with feigned casualness. "Are you hungry?" he asked, concern plastered across his face. "The nurse said you can eat now. There's a chicken soup place downstairs—"
Xu Ruyi's thin lips remained sealed, her gaze sharpening into icier daggers. The air thickened with frost.
"Ruyi, please," Qin Guan pressed, pain etching his features. "Your health comes first—"
Her glacial stare deepened, rejecting his manufactured concern.
"Uncle... Uncle..." Little Pear's sleepy murmur shattered the stalemate. The child rolled over in her cot, eyes still closed. "Uncle Xiaozhi... teach me to make pinwheels..."
Auntie Feng hurried to soothe the girl, humming a lullaby as she patted the child's back. "Good girl, Uncle Xiaozhi will visit for New Year..." The maternal melody briefly warmed the sterile room, yet Xu Ruyi's frost remained unbroken.
"You need nourishment." Qin Guan braved the icy blades of her gaze, grasping her IV-chilled hand. "Hit me, curse me, decide anything—I'll accept it all. Just recover quickly." His face hovered near hers, concern and remorse masking the frantic search in his eyes—probing for what secrets she'd uncovered.
Xu Ruyi's obsidian eyes revealed nothing. "Last warning," she hissed through clenched teeth, shaking off his touch. "Stay out of my room. Or else—"
"Sir," Auntie Feng intervened, steering Qin Guan out after settling Little Pear, "best you leave now." The nanny's changed demeanor stung—even servants judged the adulterer now.
The door clicked shut decisively. Through the glass panel, Qin Guan watched Xu Ruyi's animated conversation with Auntie Feng, her expressions vivid but silent. Each unheard word tightened the screws in his chest.
Pacing the corridor, he gnawed his index finger—a childhood tic from impoverished days, long abandoned since his urban ascent. Old fears resurrected old vices.
His polished shoes clicked rhythmically until a nurse snapped from her station: "Hey! Those loud shoes! Patients are sleeping!" She jerked a thumb at the opposite room. "That old man just had surgery. His daughters are real tigers—they'll call cops if you keep this up!"
Police. The word electrified him. What if Xu Ruyi filed a report? Officers had already come with the ambulance, dismissed it as "emotional dispute" after finding no accident evidence or theft. But deeper digging...
The thought ballooned in his throat, choking him. He loosened his tie, swiped sweat from his brow, and bolted for the stairs.
He needed Qi Min. Needed to extract every word exchanged with Xu Ruyi. Needed to control the narrative like courtroom strategies. Needed to seize the initiative.
He had to find Qi Min—now.