Shanghai never slept.
The streets outside Ruijin Hospital were never quiet at night. Inside however, monitors beeped, nurses whispered, the air was sterile and the smell of antiseptic everywhere.
Dr. Zhao Yun pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, stifling a yawn. He had been working for ten hours straight, his white coat wrinkled from hours of rushing from patient to patient. His phone buzzed, his girlfriend Mei Ling, had texted him twice already: "Yun, don't forget to eat" and "Call me when you can."
He smiled faintly, pocketing his phone. Mei Ling was always patient, always sweet. She understood the demands of his job, and that was one of the many reasons he loved her.
The sound of the ER doors slamming open broke his brief calm.
Five men in black stormed in, their presence radiating danger. They weren't ordinary men. Their faces tense, their movements sharp.
Between them was a man bleeding heavily, his black shirt soaked in blood.
"Doctor! We need a doctor, now!" one of the men barked in Mandarin, his tone sharp with command.
Zhao Yun rushed forward instinctively. "What happened?"
"Gunshot," the man snapped.
Zhao Yun froze for half a second. Gunshot wounds in Shanghai weren't unheard of, but when they arrived with this kind of escort, it usually meant trouble. Big trouble.
"Trauma room three," Zhao Yun ordered, forcing his voice steady.
Immediately the Nurses rolled him to room three. He noticed the fear flashing in their eyes, these men… they looked exactly like the type no one dared to cross.
Inside the trauma room, Dr. Zhao Yun focused on the patient. He was tall, broad, with sharp cheekbones and a presence that lingered even without speaking. His dark hair stuck to his forehead, his lips were pale, his eyes, half-open.
He pulled on gloves and leaned over the patient. "Stay with me," he said firmly. "You're losing blood. What's your name?"
The man coughed weakly, blood staining his lips, but his gaze locked onto Yun's face. Even half-conscious, those stormy eyes didn't waver.
"Li Wei" he rasped, his voice low and rough.
Everyone in Shanghai knew that name. Li Wei, the Dragon of the East. A mafia boss whose empire stretched from the docks to the glittering clubs of the Bund.
"Alright, that's good, that's good. Don't talk, just breathe... You'll be fine." Yun's hands moved quickly, cutting away the blood-soaked fabric, exposing the wound. "9mm, entry wound on the left side. No exit. I need suction, clamps, and saline...now!"
Nurses scrambled to obey.
Li Wei groaned, his body tense with pain. Dr. Zhao pressed down firmly. "Hold still."
But then, against every medical warning, Li Wei's hand shot up, grabbing Yun's wrist with surprising strength. His grip was iron, unyielding, even as his life bled out of him.
Yun looked down, startled. "calm down, don't strain yourself, Let go."
Li Wei's lips curled into the faintest smile, blood staining his teeth. "Your face…" he whispered. His accent was thick, his words broken, but his tone was certain. "Too beautiful…."
Yun froze.
The room felt colder. The beeping monitors faded into the background. He stared into Li Wei's fevered eyes, seeing a strange intensity that made his stomach twist.
"You need to focus on surviving," Yun said firmly, pulling his wrist free. He pushed down the strange shiver running through him and focused on the wound. "If you keep talking, you'll bleed out."
Li Wei chuckled softly, even as pain rippled through his body. "Then I'll die… at least I've seen something worth living for."
Yun smiled and moved on.
The surgery began. Dr. Yun's movements were quick, efficient and calm.. but his mind wasn't. If there was one thing he feared in this life, it would be fear of losing a patient.
After what felt like hours, the bleeding slowed. The bullet was extracted, the wound closed. Li Wei's breathing steadied, though his skin was still pale.
"He'll live," Yun announced finally, pulling off his gloves. Relief filled the room, though the suited men still stood tense, watching everything like hawks.
He turned to the Nurses. "He needs rest. No stress, no movement. Keep him in the ICU overnight. Dr. Chen will review him in a few hours before handing him to the ICU doctors"
They nodded stiffly. "Understood, Doctor. You have done well."
Yun was about to leave when he felt it again, eyes burning into his back. He turned, and sure enough, Li Wei was awake, staring at him.
Not at the machines, not at his men. At him.
Even weak and pale, the Don's gaze was sharp, like a predator watching prey. But there was something else there too, something terrifying.
Possession.
"You saved me," Li Wei murmured almost to himself, "Now… you belong to me."
His smile was faint, dangerous. "You are mine, you're mine... you..ar...." he drifted to sleep.
[Early morning]
The sunlight spilled through the tall hospital windows, brushing over the sterile white walls.
Dr. Zhao Yun had finished his shift at dawn. Exhausted, he had scribbled his signature on the charts, handed over the case to the next attending physician, and finally allowed himself to leadown the quiet corridor as he walked out.
Inside the ICU, Li Wei stirred as the door opened again.
A middle-aged doctor entered, carrying a clipboard. His expression was calm but cautious. "Mr. Li, good morning. I'm Dr. Chen. Dr. Zhao has signed off for the morning, so I'll be overseeing your recovery from here on."
Li Wei's eyes snapped open, sharp as blades. His gaze locked onto the man with icy precision.
"Where is Zhao Yun?" His voice was hoarse but steady, every syllable carrying authority.
Dr. Chen blinked, caught off guard. "Dr. Zhao's shift ended. He has gone home to rest. Don't worry, Mr. Li, I'll take care of..."
"Leave," Wei interrupted, his tone low and dangerous.
Dr. Chen hesitated. "Mr. Li, please understand. For your recovery, you cannot..."
"I said leave."
The words were not shouted. They were soft, quiet. But they carried the kind of weight that made grown men's spines stiffen.
The bodyguards at the door shifted slightly, their eyes narrowing at Chen. The atmosphere in the room turned suffocating.
Dr. Chen's voice wavered. "I… I can't leave you without checking your vitals."
Li Wei slowly pushed himself up, ignoring the sharp pain tearing through his side. His eyes locked on Chen like a predator staring at prey.
"You will not touch me."
"Mr. Li..."
"Zhao Yun," Wei said firmly, each syllable deliberate, "is my doctor. No one else."
Silence filled the room. The monitors beeped steadily, echoing the tension.
Dr. Chen swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead. He had worked in this hospital for twenty years, but never had he felt such raw, suffocating pressure from a patient. This wasn't just a patient. This was Li Wei, the man whispered about in every shadow of Shanghai.
"I'll… inform Dr. Zhao when he returns," Chen muttered quickly, retreating toward the door.
Li Wei leaned back against the pillows, his breathing shallow from the effort. But his lips curled into the faintest smile.
"Good," he whispered. "Only Zhao Yun."
As the door shut behind Chen, one of the guards finally spoke.
"Boss, do you want us to bring him back? This Zhao Yun?"
Wei's eyes softened in a way his men had never seen. Dangerous, yes. But almost tender.
"Not yet," he murmured. "He will come back on his own. He doesn't know it yet… but he's already mine."
The guards exchanged uneasy glances. They had seen their boss kill without blinking, had watched him burn rivals to the ground. But never had they seen this look on Li Wei's face.
Possession. Hunger. A predator who had found something far more important than power.