Oh, Shit

The door swung open again, this time with a sense of authority, like whoever was entering wasn't here to waste time.

Two men walked in.

The first one, dressed in a crisp white coat, had the unmistakable air of a doctor. He was middle-aged, with graying hair, rectangular glasses, and an expression so neutral it was almost unnerving. His eyes, though, were sharp—like he was constantly analyzing everything in sight.

The second man was taller, broader, and looked like he hadn't slept in years. His features were harsh, almost permanently etched with disapproval. Short, neatly combed black hair, the beginning of wrinkles around his eyes, and a posture so stiff he could've been a military officer.

Zhao Wei didn't need to think too hard—this guy had to be Yihan's father.

Before he could dwell on it, the woman—Yihan's mother—rushed to the doctor with barely contained urgency.

"He doesn't remember much," she blurted out, voice filled with worry and frustration.

The doctor barely blinked, already expecting this. "That's possible," he replied, adjusting his glasses. "He literally survived a very high fall. What's more shocking is that he only broke a few bones."

Zhao Wei narrowed his eyes.

That didn't sound normal.

Not for a fall that should have turned his bones into dust.

The doctor turned to him, pulling a chair close before lowering himself into it.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, calm but observant, like he was ready to pick apart every little reaction Zhao made.

Zhao hesitated. His entire body felt like shit, but that was obvious.

"Like I got hit by a truck," he grumbled, shifting slightly and wincing at the sharp pain in his ribs.

The doctor hummed, jotting something down. "Any dizziness? Headaches?"

"Yeah."

"Blurred vision?"

"A little."

The doctor nodded, writing more notes before looking him in the eye.

"And how much do you remember?"

Zhao paused.

This was tricky.

If he said too much, they would ask questions he couldn't answer. If he said too little, they might suspect brain damage or whatever.

"…Not much," he finally admitted.

The doctor's expression remained unreadable as he tilted his head slightly. "What do you remember?"

Zhao turned to the woman, the one who had been yelling, crying, and blaming herself just moments ago.

"You're my mother," he stated.

Her breath hitched, like she was bracing herself.

Then Zhao looked at the man who had been eerily quiet this whole time, his presence heavy, his expression unreadable.

"And you…" Zhao trailed off. "You're my father."

Silence.

A deep, intense silence.

The kind that made your stomach drop before you even knew why.

Zhao Wei felt the shift in the air before anyone spoke.

The doctor took a slow, measured breath, then exhaled. "I guess it's worse than I thought."

And just like that, Yihan's mother broke.

She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as muffled sobs escaped her.

Zhao Wei froze.

Fuck. What did I do wrong this time?

The supposed father stepped forward, resting a hand on her shoulder in a comforting yet distant gesture.

Then, without breaking stride, he walked up to Zhao Wei's bedside.

And what he said next nearly made Zhao short-circuit.

"I'm not your father, kid," he stated, his voice firm, steady, undeniably serious.

Zhao Wei blinked.

"…Huh?"

The man didn't even flinch.

"I'm your uncle," he clarified. "My name is Xu Mingze."

Zhao stared at him.

His brain did a full system reboot.

Well, shit.

That explained the tension.

He had completely misread the situation.

The woman—Yihan's mother—had explicitly mentioned that his father would be arriving soon, so Zhao had assumed the first older man who walked in was the guy in question.

Apparently not.

"…My bad," Zhao muttered, awkward as hell.

Xu Mingze didn't even react to the blunder.

He simply studied Zhao like he was trying to figure out a puzzle.

"You don't remember me?" he asked, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of something else.

Suspicion? Concern?

Zhao Wei wasn't sure.

"…No," he admitted.

Xu Mingze exhaled, rubbing his temple like this was just another headache to deal with.

Meanwhile, Yihan's mother was still crying softly, her hands clenched into the fabric of her skirt.

Zhao Wei shifted uncomfortably.

He wasn't great with emotions, and this was a lot.

And on top of all this, the damn floating screen was still there, mockingly reminding him of his new "mission."

[Quest: Fix Relationship with Parents]

Great.

Because so far?

He was failing miserably.