“executive suite 718, dr. liu,” the hotel receptionist said, her voice tired but professional.

liu yunye sighed, adjusting her glasses. she hated calls like this. it meant some rich or connected dude had either broken his arm falling down the stairs or worse, had some trivial headache and thought a celebrity doctor would do the trick.

she sighed again when she saw the name on the door tag: jack wang, ceo of wang enterprises. a known diffuser who liked to throw money around to make problems disappear. liu yunye walked straight past the ostentatious decor, the expensive art, the half-drunk bottle of scotch on the coffee table. she preferred the smell of herbs to champagne.

the patient was lying on the bed, looking pale despite the room full of light. he had a high fever, his pulse was weak, and he kept coughing. liu yunye didn’t bother with pleasantries. she reached for her medical bag, pulling out a set of pulse-taking bands and a thermos.