The two bodyguards froze the moment they saw Li Qiao, stammering slightly as they greeted, "Miss Li…"
What the hell?!
Why was Miss Li staying in the room right next to the boss?!
"Is Yan Master in?" Li Qiao walked over at a leisurely pace and glanced at the door marked VIP999.
One of the bodyguards snapped out of his daze, suppressing his shock as he nodded. "He is."
Li Qiao pressed her lips together, lowering her gaze as she considered how to ask—only to suddenly spot a fresh, vivid smear of blood on the pale blue carpet outside the door.
It hadn't dried yet.
He's hurt?!
A wave of tension tightened in her chest. Keeping her expression blank, she tilted her chin toward the door and said, "Can I go in?"
The two bodyguards exchanged looks. After one full second of silent internal debate, one of them turned around and very naturally twisted the doorknob. "Miss Li, please."
Everyone on the security team knew how tolerant their boss was with her.
They figured… this woman was probably someone on a whole other level — the kind of person you really couldn't afford to offend.
As the door opened, a faint smell of smoke wafted out from the luxurious suite.
Li Qiao stepped past the foyer, casually glancing at the abstract painting on the wall, then walked soundlessly across the thick carpet into the living room.
The metallic scent of blood grew stronger.
In the living room, several bloodstained gauze pads were strewn across the coffee table. Liu Yun was shirtless on the couch, a stranger tending to the deep, bleeding gash on his left arm.
Shang Yu was seated in a single armchair nearby. He looked like he had just come out of the shower — his fresh black shirt was only buttoned halfway up, damp hair falling messily across his forehead, while the skin of his chest and collarbones still glistened faintly with moisture.
His long legs, clad in tailored trousers, were crossed in front of him. A half-burned cigarette rested between his fingers.
When he heard footsteps, he turned slightly. "Awake?"
Li Qiao hummed a quiet response and, following his gaze, walked over to sit down. But her eyes couldn't help drifting toward Liu Yun's wound — a knife cut, seven centimeters long, about an inch and a half deep.
Shang Yu, watching her in profile, lifted an eyebrow with interest. "Not scared?"
Li Qiao shifted her gaze from the wound, replying coolly, "Scared of what?"
She'd seen far worse than a knife wound like that.
Li Qiao was so calm and composed that even Liu Yun and the man tending his wound couldn't help but glance over in surprise.
Her reaction was just… too steady.
For a girl her age to remain completely unfazed in front of such a bloody scene?
Just then, as the man pierced Liu Yun's muscle with the suture needle and was about to continue, Li Qiao suddenly spoke in a slow, unhurried voice, "The edges of the wound aren't aligned. If you stitch it like this, the muscle tissue will separate under the skin."
The man froze mid-motion, turning to look at her in shock. "Miss Li, you know how to suture?"
Li Qiao lowered her head slightly and replied in a calm tone, "A little."
After a brief pause, the man turned to Shang Yu and asked cautiously, "Boss, maybe… let Miss Li handle it?"
He was one of the Four Assistants—Wang Yue.
But Wang Yue wasn't a doctor. He was only tending Liu Yun's wound because there was no one else available.
Shang Yu leaned forward slightly and tapped the ash from his cigarette, his tone curious as his gaze rested on Li Qiao's composed face. "You've handled knife wounds before?"
Li Qiao had already gotten up. As she walked toward Liu Yun, she gave a faint smile. "Yeah. I've handled them."
Quite a few, actually.
Though she didn't say that last part aloud.
Liu Yun looked at her poised and steady figure and gave a respectful nod. "Miss Li, thank you."
"No trouble at all." Li Qiao slipped on a pair of gloves with practiced ease, quickly disinfected the area, then took the suture needle and medical scissors from Wang Yue.
Without hesitation, she began stitching the wound.