"Sir, may I buy you a drink?"
A woman, radiant and intoxicating as fire, approached him, arms winding around his shoulders from behind, moving as if they were long-time friends. Her confidence and allure were laid bare, unapologetically offered to him.
Her voluptuous figure radiated temptation, but this was not what Guan Xing sought. He did not care whether a woman had a husband or whether she was a virgin—but he cared deeply that a woman's body must not outshine her heart in debauchery. Only then could he truly respect her.
Her hand was about to graze his face, but he blocked it, his expression cold and proud. "You are not my type," he said lightly.
In a place like this, consensual indulgence and fleeting affairs were hardly unusual. But from the moment he smelled her aura, he knew she had been claimed by countless men before—her body, however tempting, held no appeal for him.
"Hmph!" The woman huffed in indignation, perhaps sensing his indifference. She retreated, understanding at once that this was a man she could not manipulate—a rarity in her world of fleeting conquests.
The bar's chaos swirled around him. A glass of strong liquor slid down his throat, but with his exceptional tolerance and mastery over alcohol's effects, he remained perfectly sober.
Then a figure walked past him—a woman, silent and familiar. His attention sharpened instantly.
It was the same woman he had carried to a room just last night: the intoxicatingly beautiful, drunken goddess. Her elegance, now encased in a form-fitting gown, exuded an almost hypnotic sensuality. Even her slightest movement hinted at allure, as if the wind carried her spring-like essence straight into his mind.
A man in his forties followed closely, wearing thick black glasses that obscured his eyes but did nothing to hide the passion radiating from him. Two bodyguards flanked him, dutifully opening his car door.
"Alright, you may leave," the man instructed.
"Yes, sir. Enjoy your evening," the bodyguards replied, their eyes betraying desire, revealing that the woman had been intoxicated and exploited.
Guan Xing waved them off with mild impatience. The man's facade of civility crumbled, revealing the raw, predatory hunger beneath. Facing a semi-conscious woman like this, few men could remain composed.
"You little slut! I invested a billion in Qingfeng Pharmaceuticals for you! A billion! Your worth is high enough—how dare you resist me tonight!" The man drew three pills of Iron Gall Courage from his pocket, swallowing them immediately. Pain shot up his neck with a snap, and his last moments of awareness ended in unconsciousness.
Guan Xing did not strike him; he simply checked the man's neck pulse, ensuring he rested safely. He then carefully placed the unconscious woman back in the car, having discreetly removed the man's clothes—three pills of Iron Gall Courage were more than enough for self-inflicted punishment.
The woman remained in a deep, peaceful sleep. Her name, identity, and circumstances were unknown, yet Guan Xing had already rescued her twice. Even he found the situation extraordinary.
The bed remained hers; he took the sofa. Guan Xing considered the string of luck in his recent encounters and mused whether he should buy another bed for such unforeseen situations.
By morning, the mysterious woman still slept. Guan Xing had planned to wait for her to wake before heading to work, but Director Zhang from the hospital called abruptly, urging him to come immediately without explanation.
Assuming it was an emergency with the patient, he left the woman in his apartment and rushed to the hospital. On the way, he phoned Fang Jie, letting her know he would be delayed.
Director Zhang was anxious in his office, accompanied by two other seniors—the two professors who had observed the surgery firsthand: Old Huang and Old Su, both experts from the China Cancer Association.
Before Guan Xing could speak, Zhang handed him a copy of the City Evening News, the headline blaring: "Doctor's Conscience on the Edge of Oblivion?"
The breakthrough surgery—a precedent in dual-organ cancer operations—was twisted into a tale of indifference toward the patient. Guan Xing's professionalism was questioned, all because someone filed a complaint with the reporters, claiming the "unknown doctor" was a mere low-level hospital staff.
Guan Xing skimmed it and felt nothing. He never cared for fame; his cold temperament made him impervious to public opinion.
"This was my fault in handling things," Zhang said. "Some words spoken left the reporters room for imagination. I have already formally lodged a protest with the newspaper. As for your reputation, Doctor Guan, I will see it cleared."
Guan Xing's detached response contrasted with Zhang's concern. The director treasured the glory of this prodigious talent and did not want misinformation to upset him.
Old Huang added, "Doctor Guan, we understand you don't care, but this misreporting caused a stir. The National Health Commission has set up a special investigation team. Even I cannot suppress it. Someone may be attempting to cause trouble—or it could just be routine. Just be prepared."
Old Su continued, "You were perfect in the surgery. This is clearly driven by jealousy. It's better to know in advance than be surprised."
Zhang nodded in agreement. "Yes, Doctor Guan, young as you are, your skills provoke envy. Clearly, someone tried to stir trouble in vain."
Guan Xing sighed lightly. "Truly tedious. Thank you all for your concern. Let them investigate—just don't create extra trouble for the hospital."
Returning to the office past ten, he was surprised. His operation had opened a precedent for dual-organ cancer surgery in China. Such news was normal, but the smear from the Evening News clearly had direction.
Who would be so petty?
Memories flickered—Guan Xing thought of Liu Xinyun, the hospital's first surgeon. Jealousy had been evident after the surgery, though Liu only sought to rival his position. Could he truly orchestrate this?
Not long after, Hua Rubing burst in, holding the same newspaper, angrily slamming it on the desk. "Doctor Guan, look at this! How vile some people can be—turning a good deed into nonsense!"
Guan Xing glanced at her once. He didn't understand her anger; considering their current rapport, she refraining from ridicule was already magnanimous.
Fang Jie, standing nearby, laughed softly. "Manager Hua, don't worry. Doctor Guan is already aware. He just came from discussing it with Director Zhang."
Hua Rubing's eyes widened. "Doctor Guan, really—there won't be any trouble?"
Faced with such genuine concern, Guan Xing felt a touch of warmth. Even after his occasional rudeness, this young woman not only did not scold him, she worried for him. Rare indeed.
He smiled faintly, teasing, "With a beautiful lady like Manager Hua looking out for me, what trouble could there be? Alas, I can't handle such tenderness… I might accidentally fall for you."
Hua Rubing's cheeks flushed crimson. She had rushed to the office after seeing the report, simply to ensure he was alright—yet unintentionally, her concern revealed more than she intended.
"I don't care about you! Hmph. I just didn't want you tarnishing Feiyang's reputation. Seems I worried for nothing—you're no better than the journalist who wrote this article."