Second Madam did not raise her voice, but when she spoke, the words cut cleanly through the noise.

"Step away from her." It was not concern that drove the command, but separation. Isolation.

Su Yao stepped forward more slowly, her gaze scanning the scene, already measuring what could be taken from it.

"Blood..." she murmured, though she made no move to intervene. "Sister, what are you doing in a closed room with two other men?"

"I already told grandfather this child might not be Lu Shaohan’s!" Lu Meiqi added quickly, seizing the moment. "Look at her—what kind of behavior is this? Instead of being with her husband, she’s here—"

Her words dissolved into the rising noise of the room.

"Someone explain!"

The demand came from somewhere within the crowd, but no one answered. Voices layered over one another, servants shifting uneasily, some stepping back while others pressed closer, each person reacting to what they believed they were seeing rather than what was actually happening.

Li Chen adjusted his hold on Su Wan slightly, not out of defiance but to keep her from losing her balance completely. The movement only worsened the impression.

"You see that?" Lu Meiqi snapped, pointing, her hand trembling with the force of her accusation. "He’s holding her like—"

She did not finish the sentence. She did not need to. The implication filled the room on its own.

Old Master Lu stepped forward then. The movement did not silence the room entirely, but it cut through enough of the chaos to draw attention back toward him. His gaze moved from Su Wan to Li Chen, then to the blood, and his expression hardened—not explosively, but with finality.

"This," he began, his voice low but carrying across the room, "what is happening here?" No one answered. Because no one had control of the moment. Not even him.

Lu Shaohan still had not spoken. He had remained still, watching, his gaze fixed not on the noise around him but on Su Wan herself.

Then he moved. One step forward. His attention locked on her, and for a brief instant, something sharper than indifference passed through his expression before it disappeared beneath control.

"Let go of her," he said. The words were not loud, but they did not need to be.

Li Chen released her immediately.

Without his support, Su Wan’s balance faltered. It was slight, almost imperceptible, but enough to be seen. Enough to shift the perception again.

The blood continued to fall from her arm, faster now, slipping past her fingers and striking the floor in steady drops. No one moved to stop it. No one stepped forward to help her. Because the room had already decided what it was witnessing. And what it meant. 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

In that split moment of imbalance, before anyone else could react, Li Chen stepped forward again and lifted her into his arms. The motion was decisive, leaving no space for hesitation.

Mo Chen moved at the same time, reaching for the torn fabric at her arm. With quick, efficient movements, he pulled it tighter around the wound, pressing firmly to slow the bleeding.

The reaction from the room was immediate.

"Stop—!"

"What are you doing?"

"Put her down!"

Lu Shaohan stepped forward sharply, reaching out as if to take her from Li Chen’s hold. But before he could close the distance, Mo Chen shifted into his path. It was not aggressive in appearance, but it was absolute. He blocked him.

The interruption was brief, but it was enough. Enough to create a break. Enough to give Li Chen the time to move.

Together, they pushed through the crowd, ignoring the voices that rose behind them. Hands reached out, but none connected. The room, so crowded seconds ago, suddenly fractured into openings as they moved.

They did not stop. Not in the corridor. Not when someone called after them. Not when footsteps followed.

They moved quickly through the residence, their pace unbroken as they reached the outer grounds and the parking area beyond. No one had time to intercept them again. No one had time to organize.

By the time anyone reached the exit, they were already gone.

The hospital received them without delay.

The urgency of the situation replaced the chaos of the house. Nurses moved quickly, guiding Su Wan onto a stretcher, voices shifting from accusation to clinical precision.

The wound required immediate attention. Blood loss, while not catastrophic, had already begun to take its toll.

Preparations were made without pause.

When the need for transfusion was raised, there was no delay.

Mo Chen stepped forward. No explanation. No hesitation. He gave what was needed.

Since the time glass had shattered, the chaos narrowed into something controlled again—focused not on perception, not on accusation, but on keeping her alive.

The hospital was too clean.

Everything in it had been stripped down to pure function—white lights that offered no softness, white walls that held no memory, white sheets that erased every trace of what had come before. It was a place that did not remember, did not judge, and did not care. It only functioned.

The air carried the sharp, sterile scent of antiseptic, faint but constant.

Su Wan lay on the bed, her arm bound tightly in layers of gauze that ran from just above the elbow down toward the forearm. The bleeding had been stopped, but not without effort. Beneath the bandages, the wound still throbbed in quiet, persistent pulses.

An IV line was secured in her other arm, clear fluid dripping steadily, marking time in slow, controlled intervals.

Her face had lost some of its color, yet her awareness remained sharp. Her eyes were open. Still. Watching.

Li Chen stood nearby, positioned neither too close nor too far. His stance was deliberate, his presence controlled, as though he had measured the exact distance required to remain within reach without overstepping.

Mo Chen sat against the wall, one sleeve rolled up, a fresh dressing at the crook of his arm where blood had been drawn. He had not moved since the procedure ended. His stillness was not passive—it was watchful, contained, ready.