The IV drip ticks like a countdown in the quiet room. I adjust Old Master Shi’s blanket, careful not to wake him, when the door swings open and he walks in—tall, sharp-featured, eyes colder than the stethoscope around his neck. My breath catches. Three months since I felt those hands on my skin, since his voice broke in the dark, whispering things no one believed he could say. Now, he stares at me like I’m just another nurse. \n\n"You’re new," he says, tone clipped.\n\n"Caregiver, sir. Hired yesterday."\n\nHis gaze lingers a second too long. Does he recognize the curve of my wrist? The way I bite my lip when nervous? A flutter stirs low in my belly—the baby kicks, as if sensing him. I press a hand to my abdomen, hoping he doesn’t notice. But Shi Xuanshen notices everything.\n\n"Schedule a full panel," he tells the attending. "And have her run the bloodwork." He means me. My pulse spikes. Blood tests could reveal everything.