“Dr. Qiao, how is Shen Yi?”

The moment Qiao Junche finished his examination and straightened up, Rong Qian, who had been waiting anxiously beside them, pressed forward with the question.

Qiao Junche removed the stethoscope from around his neck. “Overall, nothing too serious — he just needs proper rest. He hasn’t been sleeping much lately, has he?”

Rong Qian thought back over Shen Yi’s state these past few days. He had clearly been caught in a relentless spiral of thought, never once allowing his mind to rest.

Still, knowing he was all right, Rong Qian let out a long breath of relief. She turned to Qiao Junche with an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry to have troubled you at such a late hour.”

“Think nothing of it — I’m used to it by now.” Qiao Junche smiled, gathered his things, and snapped his medical bag shut. Then he looked at Rong Qian and said, “Though I must say, Miss Rong — when did you arrive?”

He was quite curious about her. Six years had passed, and she’d barely changed.

Not just in appearance — even her manner toward him was exactly as it had been six years ago. There was no awkwardness, no distance.

“Just a couple of days ago,” Rong Qian said with a dry laugh.

Qiao Junche studied her for a moment, then, after a brief pause, said, “Miss Rong — would you like to talk for a bit?”

“Sure.” Rong Qian had things she wanted to ask him too.

And so, at four in the morning, the two of them sat in the living room. Rong Qian brewed a pot of tea and poured him a cup.

“Thank you.” Qiao Junche accepted it with polite appreciation.

Rong Qian took a sip of her own tea, gathered herself, and asked, “Dr. Qiao, I’d like to know — what injuries, large and small, has Shen Yi sustained over the years? You’ve practically become his personal physician. I imagine you know them all.”

“I do.” Qiao Junche had wanted to discuss this very subject with her. “I don’t know where you’ve been these past six years, or how you’ve come to reappear like this — but from what I can see, you truly have no idea what Shen Yi has been through.”

“Would you be willing to tell me what you know?” There was a quiet plea beneath Rong Qian’s words.

Qiao Junche was willing. Over the years, Shen Yi had sustained several external injuries — all of which Qiao Junche remembered clearly. Among them, a shooting incident stood out as particularly severe.

“He was shot?” Rong Qian’s eyes widened.

Qiao Junche nodded. “In the abdomen. He kept the whole thing concealed — the press never knew a thing.”

“Who fired the shot?” Rong Qian’s expression darkened.

Qiao Junche didn’t answer immediately. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. After a long pause, he said, “You understand — in recent years, Shen Yi’s influence has expanded considerably. In this particular corner of the world, he has carved out a significant position for himself.”

“As the market evolved, those with capital found that if they wanted to keep making money, they needed to cooperate.”

“You have to understand — across every industry, there runs an invisible undercurrent. Everyone within it operates by an unspoken understanding: to preserve the balance, to keep it from breaking, they all have to stand on the same side. Even if it means breaking the law — as long as they implicate one another and cover for each other from within, the day of reckoning will never come. The point is to make money. Everything else is secondary.”

Rong Qian’s brow furrowed as she listened. “Are you saying — Shen Yi refused to go along with them, and so they came after him?”

A glimmer of approval crossed Qiao Junche’s eyes. “Miss Rong — you’re sharp. One word and you have it.”

“So the one who attacked Shen Yi — was someone from his own world?” Rong Qian’s expression dropped to its darkest shade yet. As a police officer, she genuinely could not tolerate this kind of thing.

Qiao Junche shook his head. “That can’t be confirmed yet. But it’s almost certain this is tied to vested interests. Those people pressured Shen Yi from one side while sabotaging him from the other. The message they laid in front of him was plain: two options only.”

“Either fall in line — or get out.”

“What did Shen Yi decide?” Rong Qian didn’t fully understand the dealings of the business world, but she understood the weight of it. The pressure involved was not something an ordinary person could bear.

Qiao Junche told her plainly: “Shen Yi chose to stand firm. To uphold and defend the nation’s interests. He would not yield to those with malicious power.”

Hearing Qiao Junche say those words so resolutely, Rong Qian was momentarily stunned. If those words had come directly from Shen Yi’s own lips, the impact would likely have been even greater.

“Miss Rong — Shen Yi carries a sense of duty to his country in his heart. He would never agree to any course of action that would harm the nation’s interests. To my knowledge, in recent years he has maintained contact with the mainland police.”

“The mainland police?” Rong Qian felt on the verge of grasping something — yet it kept slipping just out of reach.

Qiao Junche took a slow sip of tea and said with quiet gravity, “Shen Yi is doing something that could very well cost him his life — and he has not stopped.”

Rong Qian understood the darkness that existed in this world. In the places sunlight never reached, terrible and corrupt things unfolded every single day.

And yet, despite that, there were people who chose to step willingly into the darkness. Who submerged themselves in filth, who searched for light in the shadows — or who carried light into them.

Shen Yi was that kind of person.

Afterward, once she had seen Qiao Junche out, Rong Qian kept vigil at Shen Yi’s bedside through the rest of the night, never leaving his side.

Fortunately, Shen Yi didn’t remain unconscious for long. By six in the morning, he was awake.

He was weak, nothing more. Once Rong Qian confirmed he was in no serious danger, she finally let herself breathe.

Shen Yi had only rested briefly before he needed to leave — there was still business at the company demanding his attention.

This time, Rong Qian was the one who brought it up. “Can I come with you?”

She hadn’t felt this way before. But this time, she wanted to be involved.

Shen Yi didn’t refuse. He agreed, and so Rong Qian got into the car with him and went to the company.

When Sheng Wanqing saw Rong Qian arriving with Shen Yi, her expression soured — but she forced a smile anyway, and when she came around with tea, she made sure to include a cup for Rong Qian.

That afternoon, an unexpected visitor came to Shen Yi’s office — one that surprised Rong Qian considerably.

A teenage boy in a school uniform, backpack slung over his shoulders. The moment he walked in, he claimed the sofa for himself as though it were his rightful territory.

This was Shen Shuhuai.

When Shen Shuhuai noticed there was a woman in Shen Yi’s office, his expression turned odd. She was dressed sharp and carried herself with a crisp, capable ease — less like a newly hired secretary, more like a bodyguard.

But his older cousin had told him she wasn’t a bodyguard, and had asked him to call her “Sister Rong.”

Shen Shuhuai wasn’t keen on the idea, but he was an obedient boy, and so he called her by it anyway.

“You’d better just call me Miss Rong,” Rong Qian said. “Sister feels weird.”

Mostly because every time she heard it, her mind conjured the image of the middle-aged man Shen Shuhuai would eventually become, and the whole thing felt deeply wrong.

Later, once she’d grown more at ease around Shen Shuhuai, Rong Qian smiled at him and said with a cheerful lilt: “Shen Shuhuai — when you see me again in a few decades, you’d better not have forgotten me.”

Shen Shuhuai found this baffling. Why on earth would he remember her? He certainly wasn’t going to!