Xuyan's POV
Night shift always feels heavier than it should.
The hospital never truly sleeps, but at night it pretends to be peaceful. The overhead lights burn too white, too sharp, like they're trying to peel the exhaustion straight out of your skull. The halls stretch endlessly, quiet enough that every footstep echoes, every monitor beep feels louder than it should.
Time moves strangely after midnight.
Too slow.
Too deliberate.
I was halfway through checking vitals—chart in one hand, pen tapping absently against the clipboard—when the ER doors burst open.
"Trauma incoming!"
The word trauma barely registered anymore. Night shift never gives you the luxury of panic. Your body moves before your brain catches up. I sighed, already snapping on gloves, heart settling into that familiar, detached rhythm.
They rolled him in fast.Blood stained the sheets, dark and sticky under the harsh lights. His jaw was clenched, teeth grinding together like he was holding something back. His eyes were open—fully alert, focused in a way that didn't belong to someone bleeding out on a gurney.
My stomach dropped.
Lu Chen.
Again.Of course it was him.
"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered as I stepped closer. "Do you have a reservation here or something? Frequent patient card? Because I swear, you're here with more than half the staff."
No response.
He never screams.
Never begs.
Never even flinch the way normal people do.
That alone always sets my nerves on edge.
"BP's dropping," the doctor said sharply.
"I've got it," I replied, already pressing gauze against his side. The wound was deep—too clean, too precise. Not the messy kind you see from accidents or carelessness.
This was intentional.
Controlled.
Violent.
Just like the others.
"You should really stop doing whatever it is you keep doing," I snapped without thinking, fingers moving quickly as I assessed the damage. "One of these nights, I won't be able to patch you up."
His eyes shifted to mine.Dark. Calm. Too steady.
There was no fear in them. No anger either. Just… acceptance.
"Not your problem," he said quietly.
I scoffed.
"You bleed on my floor, it's my problem."
I stitched him up in silence after that. My movements were sharp, efficient—professional. If I pressed harder than necessary, that was his fault for showing up like this again. And again. And again.
I hated patients like him.
People who treated their bodies like they were disposable. Like pain was nothing more than an inconvenience.
And yet—
When the bleeding slowed, I checked his vitals again. When his breathing faltered for just a second, my hand was already there, steadying him. When the doctor finally walked away, satisfied, I stayed.
I told myself it was routine.
Protocol.
Responsibility.
Hours passed.
Machines hummed softly in the background, their steady rhythm blending with the distant sounds of the hospital—muffled voices, hurried footsteps, someone crying somewhere down the hall. Lu Chen lay still now, eyes closed, chest rising and falling in a slow, even pattern.
The tight knot in my stomach eased.
I didn't realize I was watching him until I caught myself.
His face looked different when he slept. Less sharp. Less guarded. The lines of tension smoothed out, leaving him almost… peaceful.
It unsettled me.
I frowned and turned away.
Don't be stupid, Xuyan.
I leaned back in the chair beside his bed, arms crossed, eyes burning from lack of sleep. Dawn crept closer, pale light bleeding through the narrow window like a quiet warning that the night was ending.
That was when I felt it.
The room felt… wrong.
Too quiet.
Too empty.
I stood up slowly, heart beating just a little faster than it should.
"Lu Chen?" I called.
No answer.
I turned back to bed.It was empty.
Sheets folded neatly. IV disconnected with practiced precision. No blood trail. No signs of struggle. No chaos.Just gone.
Again.
My chest tightened in a way I refused to acknowledge.
"Unbelievable," I muttered, dragging a hand through my hair. "One of these days, you're not walking out of here."
But even as the words left my mouth, I knew the truth.
Night after night, he vanished before dawn.
And night after night, I waited for him to come back.
I told myself it was irritating.Professional responsibility.
Nothing more.
Still, as the sun rose outside the hospital windows, washing the halls in soft gold, I found myself staring at the empty bed—uneasy, restless, and far too aware of the hollow space he left behind.
I didn't know who Lu Chen really was.
I didn't know where he went before morning.
But something deep in my chest whispered the same thought every time:
If one night he doesn't come back…
I'm not sure I'll survive the waiting.