Sweet But Jealous

Chapter 9: Collision Course (9)

Bo Siyan frowned. "The blade may have been coated with something," he stated grimly.

Qu Yan nestled against him, her voice trembling slightly from pain. "Poison? Am I going to die?"

"We'll know after the hospital runs tests. Afraid?" His tone was cool.

"Terrified," she admitted, burying her face against his shirt. "Who isn't?"

Bo Siyan's finger traced the curve of her lower lip, a detached gesture. "Finally, a shred of honesty."

Qu Yan stayed silent, her face pressed against him. She was afraid of death, though she couldn't truly die within the Multiverse Agency's parameters until her mission was complete. The pain, however, was brutally real.

"If you fear death," Bo Siyan looked down at her, her sweat-dampened hair clinging to her ashen cheeks, "why gamble with it? What do you hope to gain from me?"

Qu Yan lifted her gaze, meeting his fathomless, inscrutable eyes. "Your love," she answered plainly. The original host's wish wasn't solely Fu Tingchuan's regret; she craved genuine love. Since she hadn't specified who, Qu Yan would choose the superior candidate.

"My... love?" Bo Siyan's laugh was cold, devoid of humor. "You'd be wiser to ask for money. Property."

"No," Qu Yan insisted, her gaze steady and intense. "I don't want your money. Not a cent." A flicker of mischief touched her eyes. "If you need it, I could support you. But you'd have to be frugal. I'm not exactly wealthy."

"Support me?" Bo Siyan arched a dark brow, incredulous.

"Mhm. How much for a year?" Her question was earnest.

A low rumble of laughter escaped Bo Siyan, vibrating his chest where she rested.

Qu Yan winced. "What's so funny? Are you expensive? Name your price. I'll see if I can afford it."

Before Bo Siyan could respond – likely with something scathing – the car screeched to a halt outside the nearest hospital's ER entrance. The driver, Lao Chen, jumped out to open the door.

"Young Master Bo, shall I carry the lady?"

"Unnecessary." Bo Siyan scooped Qu Yan into his arms, carrying her inside himself.

Lao Chen stared, stunned. In all his years serving Young Master Bo, he'd never seen him carry a woman like this.

The hospital happened to be run by Bo Siyan's close friend, Tang Ze. Qu Yan was swiftly admitted to an exam room.

The knife wound itself wasn't severe. The blade was extracted, the wound cleaned, dressed, and bandaged – no surgery required. However, the dark, almost black, color of her blood confirmed contamination. A tox screen was urgent.

Thirty minutes later, bandaged and pale, Qu Yan was settled in a private hospital room. Leaning back against the pillows, she overheard the conversation just outside her door:

"Our famously ice-cold Young Master Bo, carrying a woman into the ER? Do you realize the hearts you'll break if this gets out, Siyan?"

"Spare me the theatrics, Tang Ze. The tox report?"

"Soon. Seriously, Bo, I'm dying of curiosity. What spell did this woman cast? What made you break character?" Tang Ze, the picture of handsome nonchalance, slung an arm over Bo Siyan's shoulder. "Give me the scoop. I won't tell your legion of admirers."

Bo Siyan shrugged him off. "She offered to support me financially," he replied, his tone deceptively bland. "What spell do you imagine that requires?"

"...What?!" Tang Ze choked on the coffee he'd just sipped. Did he hear correctly? A woman dared offer to pay the man who commanded both the city's legitimate wealth and its shadowy underworld?