Chapter 03

Vivienne looked at David as if examining him from head to toe.

“Dr. Franklin. Is this your best doctor here?” she asked, her eyes still locked on David.

“Ye-yes, ma’am. David is my son, and he’s the most skilled doctor we’ve got so far. He’s very good,” Dr. Franklin said confidently, a small smile on his face.

He always wanted his son to shine and make him proud. Despite David being a stubborn and often disappointing son, he felt if David could gain Vivienne’s favor, it would assure him a bright future. Vivienne was known for her powerful influence, and if she recommended David as a good doctor, everyone in Vereluxe City would accept it without question.

With a doubtful expression, Vivienne continued to stare for a moment longer.

But realizing there was no more time—her younger sister needed emergency care—she pressed on.

“Okay, doctor, can you tell me what’s wrong with her? What happened?” she asked directly to David.

David stared at the young lady on the bed and scoffed. “But ma’am, I need to examine her first before I can say anything… don’t worry, everyone here knows I’m the best doctor in this hospital,” he said boldly.

Everyone in the hospital knew that David wasn’t as brilliant a doctor as Adrian, whose exceptional skills to cure illnesses—and even perform what seemed like miracles—revived patients others had already lost hope in. The moment Adrian stepped into any operating room, lives were saved.

Dr. Franklin knew very well that his son was nothing compared to Adrian, but he wanted Vivienne’s favor to land on David regardless.

As David was adjusting his uniform, Vivienne’s eyes burned with urgency. But she knew better than to rush a doctor; she didn’t want to confuse him, so she managed to keep some composure.

Then, Adrian—who had just finished an earlier operation—quietly stepped forward. His presence was like a cool breeze in the tense air—a calm assurance that didn’t need bold claims or flattery. His dark eyes scanned the girl on the bed, catching every tiny clue: the pale skin, the faint blue veins near her temples, and the subtle tremor in her fingertips. He inhaled deeply, and in that quiet breath, he knew.

A sudden wave of recognition washed over his expression—he’d seen this before: Fulminant Hemorrhagic Vasculitis. The name burned in his mind like a red-hot brand. A rare, catastrophic rupture of vessels—no sign, no warning—just blood gushing from every soft opening of the body. It was a cruel disease, sudden and merciless.

His gaze shifted sharply to the small glass vial in David’s hand: Heparin E. A potent anticoagulant. Adrian’s voice cut through the room, low and deliberate.

“Stop,” he said. “That injection will kill her. It’s not clotting you’re fighting—it’s the vessels themselves, they’re falling apart. If you inject that, her blood won’t stop, it will pour out until there’s nothing left.”

Dr. Franklin felt a chill run down his spine at Adrian’s words. He knew very well that Adrian was something of a miracle doctor, with knowledge far beyond anyone else in the entire hospital. But his jealous love for his son was clear. No matter what, he could only try to scold Adrian—but at this moment, he felt that something dangerous was about to happen.

David scoffed. “Who do you think you are? I’m the doctor here, not you. Stay back.” Arrogantly, David pushed Adrian backward.

“I don’t need any noise here. Go find a place to sit and watch, or get out,” he said coldly, trying to look as impressive as he could in front of Vivienne.

Vivienne turned sharply to Adrian, her eyes questioning but her heart racing—she could feel the edge in his calm.

Adrian didn’t argue. He simply stepped back. “Let’s see where your ignorance and arrogance lead you,” he said quietly. “You obviously don’t understand her situation,” he added coldly, with a serious look on his face.

But David’s pride was already in motion. He plunged the needle into her arm, pressing the plunger until the last drop of Heparin E was gone. For a moment—five seconds of heavy silence—everything stilled. The blood stopped. Her breathing slowed. David turned to Adrian with a smirk of triumph.

“See? She’s calm. Nothing to worry about,” he mocked.

Vivienne let out a sigh of relief. David, seeing her reaction, lit up with a smile as if he’d won the World Cup. He turned to Adrian. “You know, you always think you’re better than me, but maybe if you were humble enough, you’d learn from me.” His tone carried the smugness of a shallow victory.

Adrian stood calm, he didn’t flinch. Then he smiled.

Then it happened.

The girl’s body jolted—once, twice—like a puppet’s strings snapped and tangled. Her limbs flailed, blood erupting anew from her nose, her mouth, her ears. A soundless scream twisted her face as if she were possessed by a phantom no one else could see.

Vivienne gasped, stepping back with trembling hands. Dr. Franklin’s face went white.

David’s hands, once raised in pride, quickly dropped. “Wh…what happened?” His lips trembled as he stammered.

Adrian stepped forward, his voice cutting through the panic with the weight of authority. “I warned you,” he said, giving David a glare of disappointment. “Get her to the old herbal treatment room. Now.”

No one moved. Adrian didn’t wait—he gathered her in his arms as if she weighed nothing and carried her to a small copper bathtub in the adjoining room. He filled it with water, scattering a powdered blend of Yunnan Baiyao and ginseng root into the swirling steam. The scent of earth and bitter roots filled the air.

He worked with quiet intensity—tapping pressure points along her wrists and throat, raising his hands like a magician performing tricks as he skillfully placed slender silver needles into her meridians, weaving them like a master weaver mending a torn tapestry. He moved so fast that everyone could only watch in awe. Dr. Franklin stood there and watched him perform the life-saving ritual.

Vivienne stood at the doorway, her lips parted in disbelief, watching as Adrian’s calm, rhythmic movements seemed to call the life back into her sister. The girl’s breath steadied, her blood slowing to a trickle. In the lamplight, her cheeks took on the faintest flush of color—like dawn breaking after a nightmare.

Adrian didn’t look up. He only murmured, “Stay calm. Let the water hold her. Let the earth pull the poison out.”

And in that quiet room, as the night deepened and the girl’s trembling eased, even Vivienne—so accustomed to control—felt her own heart finally steady.

In just a few moments, she was fully back to her color; her face no longer looked as if she were about to die a minute ago.

“Wow,” Vivienne said before realizing it. Her surprise was evident.

David’s chest burned with rage.

That bastard took my credit, he muttered in his mind.

Dr. Franklin gave a gentle smile as if to tell Adrian, Well done.

“Adrian, why did you have to interfere? You know David could handle the situation on his own. He’s also a great doctor. Why are you always underestimating him?” Dr. Franklin asked, hoping to save his son’s face in front of Vivienne.

“Oh, you mean I should have let the innocent patient die? Your son is just as good as a cleaner—he’s not worth calling a doctor. A real doctor would be humble enough to learn from those who are better than them. His arrogance will never lead him to great heights,” Adrian replied, and with that, he walked out nonchalantly.

He even walked past Vivienne as if he didn’t notice her.

“What?” Vivienne’s face turned angry. Didn’t he notice me? she thought.