The hum of Henan Central Hospital was a low, constant thrum, the quiet beeping of machines, the soft padding of nurses' shoes against linoleum, the occasional voice crackling over the intercom. But Naya heard none of it. Not really.
Her mind was still back in the hallway. Still wrapped in the scent of antiseptic and hospital soap. Still vibrating with the sound of his voice.
Nian.
God help her.
She'd barely slept the night before, and it wasn't the new bed or the difference in time zone. It was him. His stare, his words, his presence burned into her skin like a fever she didn't want to break.
It was her second day of internship, and already she was walking the halls like a woman possessed. Her badge was finally on straight, her scrubs clean and modest, her clipboard neatly tucked under her arm. She had every intention of keeping things professional today.
Until she rounded the corner and nearly crashed into him.
"Morning, sunshine."
His voice wrapped around her like warm silk. Her eyes snapped up to meet his, and there he was again, standing too close in that infuriating way, one hand casually tucked into the pocket of his white coat, the other holding a black coffee.
"You should come with a warning sign," she muttered.
He grinned. "Too late for that, don't you think?"
She tried to walk past him, but Nian shifted just enough to keep her attention. "So. Did you dream about me?"
"You wish."
"Oh, I don't have to wish." His eyes sparkled as they drifted over her. "I already know."
Naya felt the blush crawl up her neck before she could stop it. She hated how smug he looked when he noticed.
He leaned in slightly, just enough to let her smell the coffee on his breath. "Do you always get flustered this easily, or am I special?"
"You're cocky," she snapped, trying to wrest back control.
"I'm accurate," he countered. "There's a difference."
She exhaled sharply. "Shouldn't you be doing rounds?"
"I am," he said, finally stepping aside. "I'm rounding my way into your good graces."
God, he was impossible.
By lunchtime, Naya had successfully buried herself in paperwork, assisted two minor procedures, and only glanced at the surgery board twice to see if his name was posted. Once, she caught a glimpse of him through the window of the operating room. Masked, focused, a scalpel in hand, steady and sure. A first-class general surgeon. The way he moved was like art. Efficient. Controlled.
And yet, the man she saw last night, smirking, teasing, tempting—was no less dangerous than the one holding a scalpel now.
When her shift ended, Naya lingered outside, the hospital's entrance bathed in the fading hues of evening light. She hadn't even made it five steps before she heard him behind her.
"Leaving without saying goodbye?"
She turned, unsurprised. Nian leaned against a pillar near the ambulance bay, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly tousled like he'd run a hand through it too many times.
"Didn't know we were doing goodbyes."
He shrugged. "We could skip straight to good nights. Or better yet, to that drink I owe you."
"You owe me nothing," she said, but her voice had softened.
He pushed off the wall, closing the distance slowly. He smelled like mint and soap and adrenaline. Like danger on the edge of calm.
"I'll be honest with you, Naya," he said, stopping in front of her. "I like how you look when you're trying not to like me."
"Who says I'm trying not to?" she teased back, lifting a brow.
His eyes darkened with something delicious. "Then let's not pretend."
His fingers brushed her wrist. Just a touch. Just a test. Her skin lit up like he'd struck a match.
"Ever been to the rooftop?" he asked.
She blinked. "Of the hospital?"
He nodded. "Best view in the city. Most people don't know how to get up there."
"Do you?"
He leaned in, whispering against her ear. "I have all the keys, princess."
Damn him.
He held out his hand. Just like that. No pressure. No promises. Only possibility.
And something inside her. Something reckless, something curious reached out and took it.
They climbed the stairwell in silence, his grip warm and steady. She should've been nervous. But all she felt was heat.
The rooftop was quiet, the city sprawled out beneath them in a sea of twinkling lights. A breeze tugged at her curls as she stepped toward the edge. Nian stood behind her, hands in his pockets.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" he said.
"The view?"
He stepped closer. "You."
She turned, and he was already there, too close, always too close.
"I still don't know what you want from me," she said softly.
He smiled faintly. "Maybe I just want to see how deep your curiosity goes."
"You think I'm curious?"
"I think you're burning."
And then he kissed her.
It was soft at first testing, tasting but quickly grew into something hotter. His hands slid around her waist, hers into his hair, and the world tilted. Her body pressed into his, spine arching as his lips devoured her name in silence.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, she could still feel his mouth lingering on her skin.
"What now?" she whispered.
Nian rested his forehead against hers. "Now?" he murmured. "We fall. Slow… or fast. But we fall."
Naya's heart beat against his chest, matching the rhythm she'd felt that first day.
Beneath his pulse.
And she knew, this was no ordinary attraction.
This was gravity.
This was fate, wrapped in hospital whites and a cocky smile.
This was how it began.