Chapter 14: A Dangerous Thought
1103 Words
The thought came out of nowhere, unsettling and sharp.
Qi Bo quickly looked away, realizing his gaze had lingered too long on Cai Yun’s lower abdomen. Embarrassed, he clenched his jaw and tried to snap himself out of it. After spending the whole day assisting gynecological procedures, his mind was clearly overloaded.
He wasn’t proud of it.
Working in the gynecology department had changed something in him. Where most would see a woman’s smile, style, or expression, Qi Bo found his mind reflexively analyzing clinical details—an instinct born from too many hours in the operating room. It wasn’t attraction, not really. It was habit. Professionally detached, but personally confusing.
And now Cai Yun stood before him—bright-eyed, stylish, unaware. She had just thanked him for retrieving her stolen handbag earlier that evening. He’d chased down the thief on instinct, barely dodging a blade in the scuffle, his shirt torn in the process. Now, standing in front of her, heart still pounding from the earlier adrenaline, Qi Bo felt awkward and strangely vulnerable.
“You work nearby, right?” Cai Yun asked, her tone casual and friendly. “Just got off your shift? Have you had dinner yet?”
Qi Bo blinked, forcing a polite smile. “Just got off… Haven’t eaten yet.”
He was only half-present. His mind stubbornly replayed the next day’s training schedule: a live demonstration session with medical volunteers. Cai Yun, as luck would have it, had agreed to participate without yet knowing who the trainees were. And Qi Bo… would be one of them.
It felt strange—almost intrusive. How was he supposed to maintain professional detachment tomorrow when he’d just seen her like this: grateful, warm, a little too close?
No, this wasn’t right. He shook his head internally. This line of thinking needed to stop. Now.
There had always been a part of Qi Bo that struggled with boundaries—not in action, but in thought. He remembered being a curious teenager, easily tempted, dangerously close to behaviors he later despised. He’d outgrown most of it through self-discipline and education, but occasionally, shadows of the past returned in moments like this.
He clenched his fists slightly, forcing himself back to reality.
“Let me treat you to dinner,” Cai Yun offered suddenly, her smile bright. “You saved my bag, and probably saved me from hours of stress. I owe you.”
Qi Bo hesitated. He knew better than to get too close to someone he’d be working with so intimately—even in a strictly medical context. But saying no would come off rude, and she was clearly just trying to show gratitude.
“I… well, okay. But let’s keep it simple. That little diner over there’s fine,” he said, pointing to a small, humble spot by the roadside.
“You’re such a nice guy,” she laughed. “But come on, don’t be so modest. What about barbecue? There’s this place in the alley—Phoenix Claw Beauty. Amazing food, and the owner’s famous.”
Qi Bo raised an eyebrow. “Phoenix Claw… Beauty?”
“Yeah! Haven’t you heard of it? The owner used to be a campus queen. There was a whole newspaper article about her,” Cai Yun explained. “The place is usually packed, but I know her. She’ll get us a seat.”
Qi Bo chuckled softly. “Alright. Lead the way.”
As they walked together, Qi Bo found himself relaxing. Cai Yun was easy to talk to, with a cheerful personality that made the evening air feel lighter. Still, he reminded himself to stay careful. Friendly distance. Professionalism. He couldn’t afford another mistake.
He’d already made one too many.
Back at People’s Hospital, a series of misunderstandings and cold politics had nearly cost him his career. No one had stood up for him—not even the colleagues he thought were close. Director Zheng had used a minor lapse in protocol as an excuse to force him out. Qi Bo knew it wasn’t just about one mistake. It was about connections, alliances, reputations.
At Good Women’s Hospital, he had a second chance. And this time, he was determined not to mess it up.
Cai Yun led him down a narrow alley lit with red lanterns. The aroma of grilled meats wafted through the air. The Phoenix Claw Beauty barbecue shop was bustling, with almost every table full. A tall, elegant woman with striking features stood at the entrance, greeting customers.
“That’s her,” Cai Yun whispered. “The famous boss lady.”
The owner spotted Cai Yun and waved with enthusiasm. “You’re back! Come in. We’ll find you a seat.”
Soon, a small corner table was cleared for them. Qi Bo sat across from Cai Yun, feeling the warmth of the grill and the buzz of nearby conversations.
Over the course of dinner, he let himself enjoy the moment. Cai Yun was curious about his work and asked questions that weren’t overly invasive. She talked about her experiences as a nurse, how she ended up at Good Women’s Hospital, and even shared a few embarrassing stories from her early training days.
Qi Bo laughed more than he expected. For the first time that day, his thoughts weren’t clouded by clinical imagery or self-doubt.
Still, that lingering fear sat quietly at the back of his mind. He couldn’t let what happened earlier repeat itself. Not tomorrow. Not ever.
He knew there was a line between being a medical professional and becoming something darker. That line was drawn not just in actions, but in thoughts. And the more he caught himself straying from it, the more determined he became to step back.
He looked at Cai Yun, who was busy flipping skewers on the grill. She had no idea of the inner storm he’d been wrestling with.
And maybe that was for the best.
“I’m really glad you caught that thief,” she said suddenly. “There’s not many people who’d take that kind of risk these days.”
Qi Bo smiled, humbled. “It wasn’t anything special. I just did what felt right.”
“That’s exactly what makes it special,” she replied.
He nodded, the weight on his shoulders easing just a little. Maybe tonight was just what he needed—a reminder that he was more than his darker thoughts, more than his past mistakes.
He was someone who could still choose to do the right thing.
And tomorrow, when he walked into that training room, he would carry that reminder with him like armor.
- Writer
