Yan Chuan couldn’t help but struggle with his hands as he peeled off the damp shirt. The script had set the scene in summer, leaving him with very few clothes on. With only a thin, translucent shirt left, all that remained were his pants.
He felt averse to completely undressing in front of so many people.
The overhead incandescent light flickered, and Yan Chuan noticed his vision beginning to blur. He felt a bit dizzy, along with a nagging headache.
“Didn’t we ask you to strip? Hurry up!” a prison guard urged from the sidelines, cursing under their breath. “Faster!”
This moment had already dragged on for too long. The prison guard checked the time and realized they wouldn’t make it before the prison gates closed if they waited any longer.
The thought of what awaited outside sent a chill down his spine, all because of this hesitant “Eastern beauty.”
The prison guard, now impatient, shoved his way through the throng of inmates surrounding the beauty. Just as he was about to take matters into his own hands, he heard,
“Is he unconscious?!”
“Someone’s coming!”
“It’s the guard…”
Heavy footsteps echoed, the sound of boots striking the solid floor was loud and clear as they approached from the corridor.
In the moment when Yan Chuan lost consciousness, he only felt the world spinning around him.
His head throbbed, and his shoulders ached. His head felt heavy, slightly feverish too.
He didn’t know if it was because he had been soaked and standing for too long, or if his weak physical condition had become more apparent in this situation.
All he knew was that his head hurt terribly, and he could no longer maintain his balance.
Just a second before he collapsed, he thought he saw a sturdy arm reaching out, as if to catch him.
But it wasn’t that person who caught him.
Yan Chuan fell into a broad, warm embrace.
Something pressed against his shoulder, poking him through the soft touch of skin, causing him to frown in displeasure.
“My head hurts…”
The person who caught him seemed to be a very tall man. He lowered his head slightly, murmuring something in Yan Chuan’s ear, but Yan Chuan couldn’t catch what was said.
The man’s lips moved, his voice barely audible. With delicate brows furrowed, he wore a distinctly uncomfortable expression.
His long black hair fell, obscuring half his face, with thick eyelashes making his face seem even smaller.
He looked quite pitiful.
“I’ll take him to see a doctor…” An unknown figure lifted the unconscious Yan Chuan, draping their coat over him. “I’ll handle it…”
The onlookers in the room watched as he took Yan Chuan away.
The prison guard opened his mouth in shock, left speechless, and could only angrily grip the water gun and shout, “Everyone, follow me!”
Amidst the crowd, a young man with green eyes glanced at his empty palm and clicked his tongue heavily.
***
“Are you alright? … Did you wake up?”
Yan Chuan regained consciousness to the pungent smell of disinfectant.
His vision remained a bit blurry, and as the light momentarily glared at him, he frowned. In that moment, a hand reached over to shield his eyes.
“Are you still feeling dizzy? Don’t open your eyes yet.” A gentle and steady voice sounded.
A warm hand rested on him, and when Yan Chuan blinked, his eyelashes brushed against the palm.
He could still detect the sharp scent of disinfectant in his nose.
Slowly, Yan Chuan opened his eyes.
Where was he… and who brought him here?
He didn’t know the answers to those questions, nor did he know who was currently covering his eyes.
“I’m feeling better…” he murmured, pressing his lips together, trying to gauge that it had been about ten seconds, “My head doesn’t hurt much anymore.”
Upon hearing him speak, the owner of the hand withdrew it, allowing Yan Chuan to see the entire room.
It was a spacious, modern examination room, decorated with cabinets in the corners that held various labeled medications, each marked with strings of letters.
The faint scent of disinfectant lingered.
Yan Chuan found himself lying on the only hospital bed in the room.
Before him stood a young doctor in a white coat, a stethoscope resting in his chest pocket. The doctor had blond hair and blue eyes, a typical handsome white man with high cheekbones and deep-set eyes that radiated warmth.
The doctor leaned in, his curled golden hair falling toward Yan Chuan, focused intently on him.
“Are there any other areas that feel uncomfortable?” The doctor smiled at Yan Chuan, “My name is Navi, and I’m the doctor here. Feel free to tell me anything.”
“You seem to have a slight fever, likely due to inadequate food intake combined with your poor health,” the doctor continued, even as Yan Chuan remained bewildered. “I’ve prepared some medication for you. Take it and sleep a bit more, and you’ll be fine.”
“Are you hungry now? Do you want to eat something?”
The words poured into Yan Chuan’s ears, making his still-dizzy mind feel even more overwhelmed, and he could only answer the doctor’s questions one by one.
This doctor seemed a bit… overly enthusiastic?
If he didn’t know he was in the script, Yan Chuan might have thought he had returned to a sanatorium.
He propped himself up to sit.
“I’m okay, just a little dizzy.” Yan Chuan pushed his hair behind his ear, his voice weak due to his physical state, “I’m not hungry.”
He watched the doctor, identifying himself as Navi, as he prepared the medication and hesitated to pose his most pressing question, “Can I know who brought me back here?”
Had he not been in the room, ordered by the prison guard to strip, and collapsed halfway through?
Yan Chuan hadn’t seen who had picked him up.
Moreover, wasn’t he already… undressed?
“It was Leo,” Navi said, approaching with a cup. “Drink this… He’s a guard, and when you came over, you had his coat draped over you—it’s right there.”
He smiled slightly, his aquamarine eyes appearing incredibly gentle. “The clothes you’re wearing were ones I found; I removed your coat because it seemed uncomfortable.”
Yan Chuan spotted his clothes on the chair and instinctively nodded.
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