Chapter 6: The Old Man Really Knows How to Act Cute  

Under the surveillance camera, she stood by the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room, seemingly admiring the sunset.  

“Not a single sound for at least half an hour—has she been standing by the window daydreaming all this time?” If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, Qi Xiaochen wouldn’t have believed that after a busy day of surgeries, she still had the energy to stand by the window and watch the sunset.  

Perhaps she wasn’t watching the sunset—maybe she was waiting for his IV drip to finish.  

The two assistants entered the room carrying takeout boxes, interrupting Song Ziwan’s jumbled thoughts.  

“Dr. Song, we got you the ‘Four dishes and a soup’ combo. If you want a midnight snack later, just text me—my number’s written on the card,” said the stern-faced male assistant, a towering figure at 1.8 meters, as he strode into the living room and placed the food on the coffee table.  

Song Ziwan turned slightly, glancing at the beautifully packed translucent takeout bag on the table.  

In about an hour, the IV drip would be done.  

What, did Director Qi plan to keep her here until after midnight snacks?  

If it weren’t for the extramural service assignment personally handed down by Dean Qin, no amount of money would have made her take on such a demanding task.  

Song Ziwan sighed softly. “Thanks.”  

Instead of rushing to eat, she walked into the master bedroom to check on the IV.  

The two assistants quietly set up an adjustable table by the bed, placing a bowl of light vegetable porridge and a plate of freshly cut fruit on it, along with half a glass of warm water.  

“Take two anti-inflammatory pills after dinner,” Song Ziwan said after the assistants left. She poured two pills from the translucent medicine box on the nightstand and placed them on a tissue on the man’s table.  

Qi Xiaochen smiled faintly, nodding as he propped himself up slightly against the headboard. He reached out a hand toward her. “Help me up.”  

His tone was casual, with a hint of laziness.  

Song Ziwan: *He really knows how to boss people around!*  

A man pushing forty, already 37 years old, yet acting all cute over a minor surgery.  

Her expression froze for a second before she leaned in, gripping his sturdy waist with both hands to carefully help him up, guiding his feet into his slippers.  

Director Qi had been home for two hours now, and she hadn’t seen his wife around. No wonder he was treating her, a surgeon, like a maid.  

“I’m fine now. Go eat, and come back later to change the IV bag.” Qi Xiaochen’s voice was calm, slightly nasal, giving off a relaxed, lazy vibe.  

He picked up a small spoon and began eating the porridge—quite elegantly, at that.  

Song Ziwan couldn’t resist teasing him. “Does Director Qi always eat this gracefully?”  

“Huh? Me, graceful?” Qi Xiaochen looked up and chuckled. “You don’t know me well, then. I was a Special Forces soldier—back during field training and missions, I’d squat in the jungle to eat. After leaving the Special Forces and joining the Special Police Unit, no matter how busy work got, I always sat down to eat properly.”  

With that, he glanced at the tiny spoon in his hand.  

*This* was graceful?  

Song Ziwan had no intention of getting too involved with him. In the plastic surgery industry, most interactions were one-time deals.  

Only surgeons with good reputations got repeat referrals.  

And as for them—after this, their paths would likely never cross again.

Watching the man quietly eating his porridge, Song Ziwan turned and walked out. Pausing at the bedroom door, she couldn’t help but glance back and ask, “You didn’t tell your wife about your surgery today? You’ve been home for so long, yet she hasn’t come back to take care of you.”

“Huh? Haha, I’ve been single forever—what wife?!” Qi Xiaochen looked up at the beautiful and highly skilled surgeon, his gaze lingering for a few seconds before a self-deprecating smile curled at his lips as he recalled his empty household register.

Song Ziwan was slightly taken aback. “You’re this old and still unmarried? What about your girlfriend? Call her over to take care of you.”  

If his girlfriend came, she’d have no reason to stay.  

Qi Xiaochen hissed in annoyance and shot back, “Are you in a hurry to clock out for a date or something?”  

The beautiful surgeon by the bedroom door silently turned and walked to the living room.  

Qi Xiaochen was speechless. They’d clearly agreed on additional extramural service fees—was she really that desperate to leave?  

His appetite vanished instantly.  

Deliberately, he pulled up the home surveillance feed and watched her sitting in the living room, equally uninterested in eating. Even the four dishes and a soup from the five-star hotel’s Chinese restaurant couldn’t tempt him—he only took a few small bites.  

His eyes remained fixed on his phone screen as he scrolled endlessly.  

Qi Xiaochen was curious. What could possibly be so engrossing that she’d skip a meal?  

His surveillance system was top-of-the-line—360-degree rotation, sliding, and adjustable. Driven by curiosity, he quietly maneuvered the camera above the living room sofa and tweaked the settings.  

Instantly, he could clearly see what Dr. Song was reading on her phone.  

“Dr. Song! Time to change the IV.” After observing for a while, he gathered that she was having a fight with her boyfriend and was on the verge of a breakup. The sight of her hugging her knees on the floor made him exit the feed and call out from the master bedroom at just the right moment.  

Song Ziwan stood, washed her hands, and entered the master bedroom to quietly switch out the last IV bag.  

“Does the wound still hurt?” she asked after replacing the bag.  

The man sitting on the edge of the bed thought for a moment. “Of course it still hurts a bit. Don’t let my Special Forces physique fool you—I’ve been afraid of pain since I was a kid. Oh, and help me to the bathroom while you’re at it.”  

Song Ziwan wanted to point out that he could’ve gone when the assistant was here earlier.  

She supported him to the ensuite bathroom, holding the IV bag outside the door while the patient handled his business inside.  

The sound of rushing water from the toilet made Song Ziwan swear to herself—she’d never take on extramural service for male patients again.  

Once finished, Qi Xiaochen pointed to the camp bed. “You’ll sleep here tonight. I might need you in the middle of the night.”  

Song Ziwan felt a headache coming on.  

“Director Qi, you really just had a minor butt cleft restoration. There’s no need to act like you’ve undergone major surgery.”  

“No way! You’re a doctor, so it might seem trivial to you, but haven’t you heard? Even the smallest surgery carries risks,” the older man argued earnestly.  

“It’s just a tiny scar.” Song Ziwan supported him with one hand and rubbed her forehead with the other. “Honestly, you didn’t even need the restoration. That spot is only visible to you—do men in the police force really care about such a small scar?”

“That’s right. I’m a perfectionist—I won’t tolerate the slightest scar on my body. That’s why I’ve stayed flawless all these years!” Qi Xiaochen said with a hint of pride.  

Song Ziwan helped him back onto the bed, supporting him as he slowly lay down, then teased him deliberately, “So you’re a perfectionist, no wonder you’re still single at your age! With your standards for women, it must be impossible to find the perfect one.”  

“Finding a girlfriend is different. I only demand perfection from myself…” Qi Xiaochen smiled faintly, picking up his phone to check some important work from the provincial department.  

Seeing this, Song Ziwan quickly reached over and straightened the arm with the IV drip.  

“You’re on an IV—you can’t bend your arm, or the blood vessel might rupture.”  

“Oh, I forgot.”  

Worried that this old man might ruin her reputation as an excellent surgeon, Song Ziwan simply pulled up a chair and sat by the bed, ready to intervene whenever he forgot.  

After a few rounds of this, she grew impatient and simply held onto his hand, refusing to let go.  

The warmth of the old man’s palm seeped into her slightly cool fingers…