Chapter 12
But no one could have expected this.
Curled up at the stairway of the emergency exit, sitting under the cold, flickering white light, was Qin Jinnan.
He wore a black shirt and suit pants, his broad shoulders and back giving off an imposing presence.
Yet, there was something rare and fragile about him in that moment.
As I pushed open the door to the stairwell, he had already, instinctively, turned his head toward me.
Sweat beaded at the corners of his forehead, born from the intense pain he was clearly enduring.
But the gaze he directed at me was cold, wary—almost accusing.
It felt as if I had intruded on a scene I wasn't meant to witness.
My feet froze in place.
Under his piercing stare, I found myself saying stiffly, "... Do you need me to call a doctor?"
Qin Jinnan didn't respond, his eyes still locked on me.
I could feel the weight of his gaze as if it were trying to strip away every layer of my composure.
I raised a hand to adjust the white mask on my face.
I always wore it when I went out, not only to hide the scar on my face but to avoid scaring children or customers.
His gaze was suffocating.
I wanted to back away, to turn around and disappear from this uncomfortable encounter.
But then, I saw the blue veins pulsing at the corners of his forehead, the strain of the pain visible in his clenched jaw, and the pallor of his lips.
Something in me shifted.
I couldn't walk away, not when he was suffering like that.
So, with an uneasy breath, I stepped forward and reached into my pocket for the painkillers I always carried with me.
I had never been to a proper hospital to treat my own injuries.
When the pain became too much to bear, I simply chewed painkillers, hoping they would dull the ache.
Now, they had a purpose.
And for some reason, I felt compelled to offer them to him.