The lounge returned to silence, and it seemed like even breathing could be heard.
Nan Wan bit her lip, took a step forward, and leaned closer to the hospital bed. "Mr. Mu, please take off your clothes yourself."
Her voice was calm and without a ripple.
Yes, just like that, Nan Wan, he was just an ordinary patient; there was no need to be nervous.
It wasn't some life-threatening major surgery; dealing with such minor wounds would be over soon. In the future, he'd be his big CEO, and she'd be her little doctor, each minding their own business.
Just think of it as... for that coat that blocked the wind last night.
The man showed no intention of moving, his thin lips softly parting to say four words, "I am a patient."
The meaning was clear.
"I know," Nan Wan maintained a polite smile on the surface, but in her heart, she was sharpening her knives, "but your hands can still move freely."
It's not like he was crippled or paralyzed in bed, unable to move. How much effort does it take to take off a shirt? Clearly, he was just giving her a hard time.
Mu Jin Huan gazed with interest at that face carrying a stiff smile, his dark eyes lazy and relaxed, "No can do."
If it weren't for the identical name, he really couldn't match last night's disheveled little wildcat with the elegant person before him.
Pretty faces are a dime a dozen, interesting souls are one in a million, and someone who has both is even rarer.
Hearing those three words, Nan Wan closed her eyes briefly, and the smile of a lady with impeccable manners on her face was even more flawless, "Sir, there are many patients in the hospital every day, doctors are very busy."
"So you should hurry up."
Nan Wan: "..."
Alright then, isn't it just taking off a shirt? There's nothing she can't do.
Nan Wan pursed her lips, leaned forward slightly, and her slender neck curved into a beautiful arc.
Just as her hand reached out, before her fingertips could touch the man's expensive fabric, the phone in her pocket rang.
It was Lu Li's manager, Song Ming.
"Sorry, I need to take this call."
Without waiting for the man's response, she took the phone out of the room, closing the door behind her, and answered the call, "What's up?"
"Nan Wan, Lu Li has a fever; can you come to the apartment?"
Minor illnesses of a celebrity shouldn't cause too much commotion; going to the hospital would definitely make waves. Every time Lu Li was injured, Nan Wan would handle it.
Nan Wan was taken aback for a moment, then her expression returned to normal, as if that moment of worry never existed.
She said lightly, "He has Shen Zhimei's number in his phone. Call her and say I asked her to go."
The implication was she wouldn't go.
Song Ming was a bit surprised. At times like this, she usually went over without a word, "Are you very busy?"
"Not busy," in the hallway without air-conditioning, the chill crept up from the soles of her feet, "but I need to avoid suspicion."
It's just a fever, not life-threatening.
After hanging up the phone, Nan Wan leaned against the cold wall, eyes closed gently, with one hand on her face, allowing the chill to seep inch by inch into her body.