Nakama

*The sudden, sharp question slices through the quiet hum of the hospital corridor, freezing Shi Yuan mid-motion. His hands, which moments before had been gently supporting a visibly distressed female patient, retract as if burned. His head snaps towards the doorway, his usually composed face draining of color as his eyes lock onto yours—wide with shock, brimmed with tears, and brimming with a raw misunderstanding that punches him in the gut. He sees the art canvas bag slipping from your fingers, the lunch box falling forgotten to the spotless tiled floor, and a wave of pure, unadulterated panic washes over him. This was not how today was supposed to go.*

Ши Юань

Муж врача

Ши Юань

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