CHAPTER 102: CHAPTER 102; THERE WAS BLOOD EVERYWHERE

....Don’t stop until you find who had clearance to those external servers. Start from the top, who owns the hospital, and who controls the traffic CCTV cameras, or officers in charge, we have to find a clue or something!" But he was certain that this person came from the mysterious clan.

Liang Chen bowed slightly. "Yes, sir."

Shen Xiao said nothing more as Liang Chen retreated, his footsteps fading into the long corridor.

The room fell into silence once again, broken only by the faint hum of the chandelier above and the distant sound of wind brushing against the windows.

Shen Xiao stood still, unmoving, his back straight, his jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on nothing. The file remained open on the table, its pages like ashes, empty, useless, mocking.

Outside, the evening deepened.

Inside, Shen Xiao remained rooted in place, a man staring into a shadow that refused to lift, into a silence that withheld the truth.

And somewhere, beyond even his reach, the truth waited in the dark, guarded by someone who knew him far too well.

— — — — — — —

The second time Yueyao surfaced from unconsciousness, it was slower, gentler, but far more suffocating.

There was no scream on her lips this time. No violent gasp to force the air back into her lungs.

Just the subtle flutter of her lashes, sticky with the remnants of old tears.

Her eyes, when they opened, did not recognize the ceiling above her. It was too clean, too silent, it was too sterile to belong to anywhere she remembered.

A pale, artificial light loomed overhead, casting its insect-like hum over everything. It made the white of the ceiling blur and shimmer, like heat over asphalt.

A cold hollowness throbbed in her chest.

Her mouth was parched. Her tongue lay like paper in her mouth. The back of her throat carried a synthetic sweetness, bitter, cloying, unmistakably chemical.

Tranquilizers.... Sedatives. Or maybe something worse.

Her body felt distant and detached. Her limbs did not belong to her, they floated at the edges of awareness like forgotten objects in water. The sheets smelled faintly of lavender, but even that softness made her skin crawl.

Then.....

There was a click.

The door opened, and her breathing caught up, her chest rising up and down.

And two women entered the room.

Both wore matching cream-toned uniforms, simple dresses, black aprons tied with exact bows, and hair twisted into identical buns. Not a strand out of place. Their faces were blank, unreadable. Like porcelain masks in motion.

Maids.

Her heart skipped a beat. Her fingers twitched beneath the blanket, but they didn’t move. Her arms were not free. She was still bound.

They were not shackles.

Not locked, but lightly strapped, silken restraints sewn subtly into the bedding, just tight enough to remind her that she was not trusted to behave herself. This was a polite imprisonment. Humane captivity.

She wasn’t in a hospital.

She was in a curated cell.

The younger of the maids, barely more than a girl, approached first, her steps quiet and practiced. She placed a tray on the bedside table, the scent of warm porridge rising, mingling with soft-poached pear and honey water.

Then, with delicate hands, she reached down and began to unfasten the silk straps one by one, loosening her from the clutches that were holding her down.

With the tranquilizer, she wouldn’t have the energy to attack anyone at the moment.

"As long as you don’t hurt yourself again, Miss Yueyao," she said softly, as if reciting a line from memory. They have dealt with such cases and they were professionals, not just maids.

The older maid stood silently behind her, watching, not interfering, but not looking away either.

It was not trust.

It was an allowance.

Yueyao didn’t speak. Her gaze was fixed on a point just beyond the tray, unblinking, like she hadn’t even noticed the food or the maids present in the room talking to her.

But her fingers twitched when the final strap slipped away from her wrist. Not on relief, it was just a motion, like something buried deep had stirred awake.

The younger maid hesitated, but Yueyao seemed to be calm. "Miss...?" she tried again, gently nudging the tray closer so that she could place it closer to her to eat. "It’s still warm. Take just a little bit of it, to keep your strength up. You need to feed your body."

There was no answer.

Yueyao’s hands stayed in her lap, motionless now. Her hair spilled like ink over her shoulders, hiding the bruising that hadn’t yet faded along her collarbone. The scent of pear hung in the air, thick and cloying.

"Miss Yueyao," the older maid said, firmer this time. "You have gone two days without eating properly. Please."

Still, nothing. Not even a single sigh escaped from her mouth.

But a moment later, Yueyao moved.

Not toward the food, not toward the maids, but to curl in on herself, like something icy had crept beneath her skin.

Her nails bit into her sleeves. Her eyes, red at the corners, drifted down to the floor with a strange, hollow awareness.

"I can’t..." Her voice cracked like something unused and brittle. "If I eat, I will taste the blood. I don’t want the taste of blood, I hate it..."

The younger maid flinched hearing her cold words. She wasn’t a cannibal to eat blood right?

The older one’s eyes narrowed slightly. "There’s no blood in the soup, Miss Yueyao. There’s no blood anywhere, you are safe now."

Yueyao’s head jerked up so suddenly that the girl backed a step. Her voice sharpened, low and fractured. "Don’t lie to me.. You weren’t there. You didn’t smell it. You didn’t feel it in your hands." At this point, she couldn’t differentiate between a nightmare and real life, everything felt real.

Her breathing picked up, sharp and erratic. The tray rattled slightly as her knee knocked against the table. Her eyes widened, not at them, but at something only she could see.

"There was blood everywhere... all blood...."