The sterile scent of antiseptic stung Lin Shuyin's nose as her lashes fluttered open.
White.
Ceiling lights too bright. Sheets too soft. An IV drip humming faintly beside her.
Where was she?
She tried to sit up, but a dull ache pulsed in her limbs. Her throat was dry, and her mind hazy, like she had been dragged through a nightmare that still clung to her skin.
A soft sound made her head turn.
He was there.
Lu Yanzhou.
Seated by her bedside, impeccably dressed in a sharp black suit, the top button undone, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal the tension in his forearms. A sleek tablet rested in his hands, but he wasn't reading. He hadn't turned the page for minutes.
He was watching her.
His eyes were like frozen obsidian—cold, unreadable, and sharp enough to pierce.
Lin Shuyin stiffened.
A shiver crawled down her spine. Her fingers clutched at the sheets, suddenly feeling far too exposed under his gaze. Her breath hitched.
Her mind raced. Hospital? How did she get here?
Then it clicked.
The airport. The dizziness. The darkness.
She must have fainted.
"You're awake," he said, voice even, smooth, too calm.
She looked away. Her lips parted, but no words came for a moment. Her mind was still reeling.
She nodded hesitantly.
He closed the tab, setting it silently on the table beside him. "How are you feeling?"
"I… I'm okay," she murmured.
That was a lie. Everything hurt.
The silence that followed was unbearable.
He didn't ask what had happened. He didn't explain why he was there. He just watched her like she was some kind of equation he was trying to solve. And failing.
Silence settled between them like a dense fog. The air felt too thick, too heavy with things unsaid.
"You were unconscious for a full day."
She flinched, eyes snapping up.
Lu Yanzhou leaned back on the chair, arms folded, watching her.
"Your body's not in a condition to move. You try to leave again, you'll collapse all over."
His tone wasn't kind. It wasn't cruel either.
It was a verdict—a silent warning not to leave without informing him.
Lin Shuyin stared at him, her throat tight. Her mind was too messed up to register his words.
A full day.
She had lost a whole day.
For a long moment, she sat frozen, the soft beeping of the heart monitor the only sound in the room.
The walls felt too close.
The air too still.
Her mind buzzed with the weight of everything she couldn't remember—and everything she now feared.
By now, she should have left.
But now, she was trapped.
Meanwhile, Lu Yanzhou observed her silently—watching her every subtle movement, every little expression she wore.
Before she could summon the courage to ask anything, the door opened.
Ji Wen stepped in, a folder in hand, composed as always, but with a glint of caution in his eyes.
"President Lu," he said. "The bills have been settled. The attending physician says Miss Lin can be discharged in a day or two, pending her vitals."
Lu Yanzhou nodded without taking his eyes off her.
Ji Wen offered a glance to Lin Shuyin and then stepped back, retreating into silence.
Lin Shuyin's heart pounded. This wasn't right. This room—it wasn't an ordinary hospital room. This was the VIP suite. The kind reserved for people who mattered. And she? She didn't belong here.
Her voice came out soft, uncertain. "Did you bring me here?"
Lu Yanzhou didn't answer immediately. His gaze lingered.
"Don't worry about the arrangements. Everything has been taken care of."
She swallowed, forcing herself to meet his eyes. "I… thank you. But I'll pay for it. I can manage."
He raised an eyebrow. Not mockingly, but with something unreadable beneath it. "You fainted in an international airport and were brought here unconscious. You think I'd let you check into a public ward?"
"Still," she said, more firmly this time. "I'll return it. Whatever it costs."
For a beat, he said nothing. Then, with a barely-there nod, he stood.
"Do what you want."
His voice was low. Controlled.
But something flashed in his eyes as he turned and walked toward the door. Something she couldn't name.
When the door clicked shut behind him, Ji Wen followed him down the hallway.
"President Lu," Ji Wen ventured cautiously, voice low, "what should I tell the doctor about her condition? Should I arrange for follow-up care at her residence or—"
"Make sure she's monitored until she fully recovers," Lu Yanzhou said coldly. "Discreetly. No one should know about this."
Ji Wen nodded. But his hands trembled just slightly as he adjusted his glasses.
Because what he knew—what he had pieced together from last night's CCTV footage, the digital logs, and the silent expression on his boss's face when he first saw Lin Shuyin's hospital file—was enough to shake him.
The heir of the Lu family.
Dragged into a scandal waiting to explode.
But more than that—
It was the way Lu Yanzhou's fury, once blazing, had simmered into a deadly calm the moment he saw her name, her file.
Ji Wen had seen his boss livid before.
But this silence?
This terrifying, icy silence?
It was the kind of stillness before an earthquake.
A storm was coming. And Lin Shuyin—whether knowingly or not—was at the very center of it.
Back in the hospital room, Lin Shuyin lay back on the pillows, her mind a whirlwind of questions.
How had Lu Yanzhou found her?
Why was he here?
Did he remember what happened last night?
Her fists clenched the sheets.
And to make it worse, all her plans were now ruined.
Her fingers closed around her phone with trembling urgency.
It was hot in her palm.
Notifications flooded the screen—dozens of missed calls and unread messages. Some from unknown numbers. Most from Song Liying.
[Shuyin, I'm sorry. I didn't think it'd go like this.][I shouldn't have acted on my own and sent Senior Lu to your room… I just thought it'd help.][Hopefully nothing bad happened. I'll atone after coming back. Please don't be mad.]
Lin Shuyin's lips parted. The words hit like ice.
Then—
One locked message.
Its preview flashed cold, sterile letters:
"Lay low. No contact."
Her blood ran cold.
She tapped it, but a passcode blocked her. Whoever had sent it didn't want just anyone seeing it.
Her grip tightened around the phone, knuckles pale. Teeth gritted. Fear clouded her already dazed eyes.
Things had gone wrong. Terribly wrong.
Twenty-four hours gone.
Wasted.
Her escape plan—shattered.
The airport. The ticket. The chance to disappear.
Gone.
Her mind buzzed, a low, feverish panic swirling in her chest. She had to leave the city—had to—but fate had stitched her down with IV lines and hospital sheets.
She was trapped.
And now… she had nowhere to go.
***