Chapter 33: Strangers and Misunderstandings
Yunice tore a page from her notebook and handed it to a maid. “Please go to the pharmacy and get these medications.” One maid left to buy the medicine while the other fetched hot water, just as Yunice had instructed.
Once everything was settled, Yunice turned to Wyatt, who was still half-kneeling on the floor. She stepped forward and offered her hand. “Let me help you.”
Wyatt, ever prideful, didn’t want to show weakness in front of others. But after a few futile attempts to stand on his own, he had no choice but to reluctantly extend his hand to her. He was tall—nearly six-foot-three. At first, Yunice managed to pull his hand, but once he started rising, she had to brace herself against his chest like a human crutch, arms looped tightly to steady him.
Wyatt lowered his head slightly and found her tousled hair brushing his chin. The sensation stirred something strange in him. He glanced at her strained little face and quickly looked away. But even as he turned his gaze, he couldn’t escape the faint, clean scent coming from her.
Oblivious, Yunice shifted her position to help balance him. Wyatt managed to sit down against the bedside cabinet. Hot water arrived, and Yunice no longer paid Wyatt any mind. She wrung a towel and began carefully wiping down the old woman’s hands, feet, and body. Once the medicine arrived, she prepared an IV and hooked it up.
Watching the woman’s vitals gradually stabilize, Wyatt made another call to Mengchu and told him not to come—just to keep the specialists on standby. By the time things had calmed down, it was already 2 a.m. The woman was resting peacefully, her fever finally subsiding. The two maids were nodding off nearby, and Yunice, too, rubbed her sleepy eyes. Wyatt sat calmly at the woman’s bedside.
He wasn’t sleeping, so Yunice didn’t dare lie down either. She noticed the deep bite marks on his wrist and hesitated. “That wound needs to be disinfected. You should get a tetanus shot.” Human bites weren’t always minor—left untreated, they could turn fatal.
Wyatt glanced at her. He didn’t know how Yunice knew the old woman. Yunice, in turn, had no idea what Wyatt’s connection to the old woman was. Out of respect for the elder, both chose not to pry. Wyatt didn’t want to be scolded by the old lady, so he silently extended his arm, letting Yunice do as she pleased. The wound itself wasn’t hard to clean. The issue was the injection.
Yunice held the syringe and reminded him, “You’ll need to take off your jacket. I need your upper arm exposed.” Wyatt glanced at her. “Does it have to be the arm?” “Thigh works too,” Yunice replied. Wyatt was speechless. He unfastened one cuff with a single hand and rolled up his sleeve, shooting her another glance. “Is this good enough?” “Mm,” Yunice nodded and lowered her head to insert the needle.
To Wyatt, the pain was nothing less than a mosquito bite. What actually distracted him was a strange tickling sensation. Frowning slightly, he turned his head and saw her other hand brushing faintly across his deltoid as she pushed the medication. “What are you scratching at?” he asked flatly. To him, it felt borderline inappropriate—especially given the terrible first impression she’d left. Yunice realized he didn’t like it and calmly explained, “It’s a technique to redirect pain.” Still, she stopped.
Once the injection was done, Yunice stepped aside. Wyatt rolled down his sleeve, but even then, he couldn’t shake the odd sensation lingering on his skin—like he could still feel her fingers brushing his arm. With nothing else to do, Yunice didn’t dare sit on the bed beside Wyatt, so she settled cross-legged on the carpet. The room was warm enough that it didn’t feel cold. And there she stayed—until sunrise.
Wyatt was the first to notice the old woman stir. She smacked her lips, seemingly well-rested. Seeing Wyatt, she blinked and asked, “Wyatt, did Mandy come see me last night?” As she tried to sit up, Wyatt slipped a pillow behind her. “You were dreaming. Mandy wasn’t here.” The old woman didn’t believe it. Her eyes scanned the room—until they landed on Yunice, who was curled up on the floor. She squinted, clearly puzzled. “Who’s that girl?”
Wyatt answered casually, “She’s the doctor you called. She’s the one who saved your life last night.” The old woman shot him a suspicious look. “Don’t try to fool an old lady. Why would you bring some girl into my room?” A sharp gleam flickered in Wyatt’s eyes. He and the old woman turned in unison to stare at the sleeping Yunice. She wasn’t someone the old lady invited. And Wyatt certainly hadn’t brought her. So then, where had she come from?