“Doctor,”

  Ye Lingyun suddenly spoke.

  His voice was tight from pain,

  yet carried a calmness so flat it bordered on provocation.

  “Your hand… is it always like this, or is it deliberate?”

  Lin Che’s hand paused.

  He lifted his gaze and met Ye Lingyun’s half?lidded eyes.

  There was no mockery there—

  only a quiet understanding,

  and a faint trace of shared suffering.

  “Just tired,” Lin Che muttered,

  his movements quickening,

  as if speed could hide the tremor in his fingers.

  “I see.” Ye Lingyun nodded solemnly.

  “I thought perhaps my difficult injury had frightened you.”

  He inhaled sharply—

  the iodine stung.

  “I heard that true masters of medicine must have a steady mind… and steadier hands.”

  “Your ‘heard’ needs a better source,”

  Lin Che shot back, annoyed—

  but strangely,

  that irritation pushed away the invisible pressure.

  He stopped trying to suppress the tremor.

  Instead, he adjusted his breathing,

  focusing entirely on the wound.

  The trembling gradually faded.

  When Lin Che’s fingers reached the deeper injury,

  Ye Lingyun felt something faint seep in—

  not qi, not medicinal force,

  but the natural warmth that emerges

  when a healer concentrates wholly on preserving life.

  A talent Lin Che himself had never noticed.

  “The injury needs time,” Lin Che said as he finished bandaging.

  Sweat dotted his forehead.

  “At least it won’t worsen.

  You’ll need medication afterward.

  And since this place can… ‘remember’ things—”

  He glanced at the stone platform.

  “—we might find a way.”

  Sunri nodded.

  A new page in the ancient book had already formed:

  New member: Lin Che.

  He arrives with medical skill, burdened by wounds of his own.

  Yet his inner light remains, enough to illuminate the road ahead.

  Ye Lingyun opened his eyes after a brief meditation.

  “The ‘internal bleeding’ and ‘organ damage’ you mentioned…

  sound similar to what we call blocked qi and damaged meridians.”

  Lin Che gathered the used gauze, thinking.

  “From the description, the mechanisms might be alike.

  Internal structures disrupted.

  Functions thrown off balance.”

  “In my sect, we have Golden Wound Powder for external injuries,

  Bone?Setting Paste for fractures,

  and Rejuvenation Pills to restore inner breath,”

  Ye Lingyun said with regret.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “Unfortunately, none were brought out.”

  “I’ll note the names,” Lin Che replied.

  “If this place requires lived experience or strong need to create things…

  we might eventually find substitutes.”

  Between their words,

  the distance between two worlds quietly shrank.

  Lin Che walked to the edge of the chamber

  and looked up again at the impossible sky.

  The Milky Way stretched like a silver ribbon,

  silent and vast,

  its light falling over the white coat

  that still carried the faint scent of disinfectant.

  Behind him,

  Ye Lingyun’s breathing grew steady.

  Pardy gently stroked Mòdou,

  who had wandered over.

  Sunri studied the ancient book.

  A wave of clarity washed over Lin Che—

  the kind that comes after exhaustion,

  when one finally breathes.

  The cold lights of the operating room.

  His mentor’s indifferent face.

  The lifeless child on the table.

  They were still in his memory—

  but no longer around his throat.

  Because ahead lay an unknown road.

  People who needed healing.

  Lives that needed protecting.

  Worlds as countless as the stars above.

  “Thank you,” Lin Che said softly,

  without turning around.

  “For giving me… a chance to start again.”

  Sunri stepped beside him,

  looking up at the same sky.

  “We should be the ones thanking you.

  Welcome aboard, Doctor Lin.”

  The stars said nothing.

  Their light drifted down like dust.

  In the chamber,

  the wounded would heal.

  The healer would be reborn.

  A long journey

  had only just begun—

  and the first threads of camaraderie,

  born from bickering,

  had quietly taken root.

  World: White Robe

  Hospital Break Room

  Director Chen stood rigid,

  scanning the empty room.

  His gaze swept the table,

  the sofa,

  and finally landed on Lin Che’s locker.

  The door… wasn’t fully closed.

  He frowned and opened it.

  Only spare clothes.

  A few personal items.

  Nothing useful.

  His expression darkened further.

  Because when he returned to his office earlier,

  he discovered that a micro?memory card—

  one containing a critical recording

  of a certain conversation in the operating room—

  was missing.

  And on the desk

  were faint scratches.

  Cat claws.

  Hospital Entrance

  A journalist specializing in medical malpractice

  was showing her ID at the reception desk.

  When she opened her backpack,

  she froze.

  Inside was a micro?memory card.

  She had no idea when it was placed there.

  But her instincts told her

  it was connected to the case she was investigating—

  the death of a two?year?old girl during surgery.

  Someone wanted the truth exposed.

  And this…

  was the beginning of another story.

  Back in the star?lit chamber,

  Mòdou lazily licked its paw.

  Its ears and the tip of its tail

  twitched—

  ever so slightly—

  in perfect sync.

  Mini?Scene: New Hospital Phenomenon — The Cat Spirit

  Break room.

  A group of nurses whispered over their tea.

  Nurse A: “Director Chen got fired.

  They say it was the work of a cat spirit.

  There were claw marks in his drawer.”

  Nurse B: “A patient said they saw a black shadow floating in the bright hallway…

  with golden eyes.”

  Nurse C: “I heard that whenever someone does something bad,

  the cat spirit appears.”

  Three seconds of silence.

  All together:

  “That’s wonderful.”