The clatter of cutlery and low hum of chatter surrounded me, but I wasn't really there. Not in this small pastry shop where Dai Fei had dragged me after the debacle with the investors. Not with the smell of sugar and coffee seeping into my clothes.
I held the file open in my hands, eyes fixed on the black print. My fingers turned pages one after another as if they held secrets too important to miss. But I wasn't reading. Not a single word landed.
My mind kept drifting back—to the restaurant, the stares, the scoffs, and the wine exploding across that man's arrogant face.
Ironically, I hadn't eaten a single bite during lunch. I couldn't even remember if food was actually served. I just remembered his leering grin, the condescension in his voice, the way I had almost suffocated under my own disgust.
"Stop it already."
Dai Fei's voice broke through my trance. She sat across from me, chin propped in her hand, her cake untouched except for the fork stabbed into it like it had committed some grave offense.
"What?" I asked, eyes still on the file.
"Pretending." She tilted her head. "You did the same thing this morning. Staring at paper so no one notices how far gone your mind is."
I snapped the file shut. "I don't get you."
"Wu An…"
"Full-naming me now? What am I, a schoolchild waiting for her lecture?" I crossed my arms, leaning back against the chair. "Go on, then. What's the subject today?"
Her brows drew together. "Are you sick somewhere? Should we add that to the doctor's appointment reasons?"
My chest tightened. I laughed, dry, humorless. "Look, I know this is hard on you. It's hard on me too. I—"
The waiter arrived just then, setting down plates. Steam curled off warm pastries. The sweetness of strawberries, the richness of chocolate, the delicate cream—everything should have been comforting. Instead, it pressed against me, cloying, unwelcome.
Once the waiter left, Dai Fei picked up her fork and stabbed her cake again. I picked up mine and cut small, precise bites. I ate as though it were a boardroom task, not dessert.
Her silence spoke louder than words.
Two hours later, the hospital loomed over me.
The smell hit first—sharp antiseptic, too clean to feel alive, cut with something metallic beneath. A place drenched in death disguised as health.
I hated hospitals. Hated the memories they stirred—memories I had buried beneath layers of iron discipline. Yet here I was, dragged to one because Dai Fei had insisted, "It's good for you."
The receptionist bowed and ushered us into the VIP wing. A title meant to honor, but all it did was suffocate.
VIP. Very Important Person.
The phrase was acid on my tongue. It was what I had clawed, bled, and nearly died to become. And yet, in rooms like this, it felt like a mockery.
I turned to Dai Fei. She met my eyes, then looked away too quickly. An apologetic glance. That flicker was enough.
"You booked this?" My voice was flat, dangerous.
She lowered her head.
"Fei-Fei." I forced calm into my voice, though heat burned under my skin. "What is this? A VIP room?"
She didn't answer. That silence told me something worse than any words could.
Her shoulders shook. Her lips trembled. Red rimmed her eyes.
"I'm sorry, An. I know you hate it, but I had no choice."
"Tell me." My tone sharpened. "What happened?"
"In the car. I'll tell you maybe… maybe when we get home."
Before I could press her further, the door swung open.
A young woman stepped in. Slim, glowing, radiant in the way someone fresh out of school glows—confidence with no weight behind it. Her smile blazed too brightly, practiced to charm.
My instincts split her into two possibilities:
First—her smile was a tool, a trick to coax patients into speaking.
Second—she was here for herself, angling for some rich benefactor to sink his fortune into her empty hands.
Judging from her smug expression, I knew which one it was.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, voice sharp.
"We?" I replied coolly. "We're here for an appointment. With the doctor."
"Patient, sure. But not this ward." She looked me up and down, sneer curling. "Go back to your cliques. You don't deserve to be here."
Familiar. Too familiar. That arrogant smirk, that cocky tilt of the chin—I had seen it before, in different faces, at different times. It always made my blood turn to fire.
"What clique would that be?" I asked, keeping my tone calm.
She laughed under her breath. "Isn't it obvious?"
Behind me, Dai Fei shifted uneasily. "No. No, this will be a disaster. She should leave. An will—"
But before she could finish, the woman sneered again.
"You should leave. Beggars like you don't belong in a VIP ward."
The word struck like a slap.
"Beggars?" Dai Fei asked, her voice tightening.
"Yup." The woman's eyes gleamed. "That's what I said. And what can you do about it?"
"You have no idea who you're talking to," Dai Fei snapped. "You'll regret this."
I sat on the edge of the bed, breathing shallow, fighting the storm inside me. Old memories stirred—memories I had fought to bury under my empire, under my name.
"An, are you okay?" Dai Fei whispered.
"Get me out of here. I want to see the supervisor," I murmured.
The woman laughed. "What are you going to do, complain? Grow up, beggars. People like you will always be beggars. Sluts, even. Trying to claw for notice where you don't belong."
That smile. That mocking smile.
It unraveled me.
She couldn't see it—no one could, except Dai Fei—but inside, I was shattering.
My clothes, my bag, the quiet wealth I carried without flaunting—one look at me should have been enough. My watch alone could pay her rent for years. Yet here I was, sinking under her words like I was seventeen again, like I was nothing.
I slumped back on the bed, trying to steady myself. My chest heaved.
"Get out of there, pauper," she hissed, and shoved me down.
The sound of fabric tearing echoed in my skull, even if my clothes didn't rip. My body registered every push, every humiliating jolt.
"Get lost." She kicked at me, sharp, deliberate.
"Stop!" Dai Fei shouted. She moved fast, shielding me, pulling me up.
But it was too late. I was already gone.
My vision blurred. My chest squeezed. My breath came in ragged bursts.
The hospital room vanished.
In its place—darkness. Chains dragging. Metal slamming shut. Fire licking iron bars. Blood. Always the smell of blood.
And voices.
Laughter. Insults. Men and women, jeering.
I clawed at the air, at the invisible bars caging me in. My nails scraped nothing. My teeth sank into empty space. Tears burned hot trails down my face.
"Let me go!" I screamed.
I kicked. I thrashed. My body betrayed me, small against invisible weight.
Somewhere distant, I heard Dai Fei. "I'm here. Nothing is wrong with you. I'm here."
But layered over it, her mocking voice: Beggar. Pauper. Attention-seeker. Unbelievable.
And then another voice, male this time, sharp and commanding: "Enough! Stop this."
I couldn't tell which was real. I only knew I was drowning.
"Let me go!!!" My voice cracked, raw, unrecognizable even to me.
Tears blurred everything. My body shook with sobs that tore me apart.
Then came the blood. Not real, not here—but in the nightmare it was everywhere. Metallic. Warm. Too familiar.
It broke me.
"Don't leave me," I gasped through tears. "Don't go. You're the only one I have."
I didn't even know who I was speaking to—Dai Fei? Myself? Someone long gone?
A sharp pain sliced through me—sharp enough to anchor me, almost comforting compared to the chaos.
Darkness surged in.
And just before it claimed me, I heard them.
"Guards! Take her. Wu An must wake to take care of her."
A chorus of deep voices answered: "Yes!"
Then a cry, shrill, desperate: "No! Please, I didn't know. I didn't know—"
The world fell silent. And I sank into black.