CHAPTER 4: The Real Conversation

Liu Xian wasn't sure what the hell he was doing.

He hadn't even touched a dog before, let alone tried to take one to a vet. But here he was, walking through town with a half-dead stray in his arms, hoping someone else knew what to do because he sure as hell didn't.

The dog wasn't heavy. If anything, it was too light. He could feel its ribs pressing against his arms, its thin body trembling from exhaustion or pain—or maybe both. It didn't struggle, didn't even try to escape. Just lay there, eyes barely open, as if it had already given up.

Liu Xian's stomach twisted at the thought.

He needed to find a vet.

Except, there was one problem.

He didn't know where the hell to look.

He wasn't exactly the type to go out much. And when he did, it wasn't like he was paying attention to things like veterinary clinics. He knew where the school was, where the convenience store was, and where home was. Everything else? A blur.

So he walked.

And walked.

And walked.

His arms ached, the cold biting through his hoodie, but he kept going. He passed unfamiliar streets, rows of small shops, people who glanced at him and then quickly looked away. He could also hear them whispering—as usual.

"Is that him?"

"Yeah, it's that kid—"

"Why is he carrying a dog?"

"Probably electrocuted it too."

Xian clenched his jaw, his grip tightening on the dog.

He ignored them.

Just like he always did.

After what felt like forever, he finally spotted a small, green sign at the end of the street. "Dr. Fan's Animal Clinic."

A vet.

Finally.

Relief flooded through him. He adjusted his grip on the dog and pushed forward, barely hesitating before stepping inside.

The moment he walked through the door, the air changed.

Warm. Quiet. Peaceful.

The smell of antiseptic and something vaguely floral hung in the air, mixed with the faint scent of animals. The waiting area was small, a few plastic chairs lining the walls. A woman sat in the corner with a fluffy white cat in her lap, scrolling through her phone. A little girl played with a tiny dog near the receptionist's desk, giggling softly.

It felt… different.

Then the receptionist—an older woman with graying hair—looked up.

And just like that, her smile faltered, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took him in.

The frail kid with messy hair, dark circles under his eyes, and a half-dead stray in his arms.

The way her lips pressed together told him exactly what she was thinking.

Trouble.

Xian felt the familiar weight settle in his chest.

But he didn't have time for this.

He walked up to the desk, his voice flat as he spoke. "The dog needs help."

The receptionist hesitated.

Her gaze flickered to the dog, then back to him. "Where did you find it?"

"On the street," Liu Xian replied.

She frowned. "Did you… do something to it?"

Liu Xian knew that was coming.

Of course she would think that.

People always did.

He forced himself to keep his expression blank. "No."

The woman still didn't look convinced.

Before she could say anything else, a door behind the desk swung open.

A man in a white coat stepped out, flipping through a clipboard. "Mei, can you—"

He paused mid-sentence, finally noticing Liu Xian.

Dr. Fan was in his mid-forties, with short-cropped hair and glasses perched on his nose. His eyes were sharp, assessing, like he could see straight through people.

And unlike the receptionist, he didn't look scared.

Just curious.

He stepped forward, glancing at the dog in Liu Xian's arms. "How long has it been like this?"

Liu Xian hesitated. "…I don't know."

Dr. Fan studied him for a moment. Then, without another word, he gestured toward the back room. "Bring it in."

Liu Xian blinked.

"…What?"

"Come on," the vet said, already turning away. "If you're bringing it here, I assume you want it treated."

Liu Xian stared at him.

Then, wordlessly, he followed.

The back room smelled stronger—like medicine, metal, and fur. There were a few cages lined against the wall, occupied by various animals. A dog with a bandaged leg. A sleepy-looking cat curled in a blanket.

Dr. Fan pulled on a pair of gloves and motioned to the examination table. "Put it down."

Liu Xian hesitated.

The dog let out a weak whimper as he gently placed it on the cold surface.

Dr. Fan's movements were quick but careful, his hands running over the dog's body with ease. He checked its breathing, its heartbeat, its injured leg. He pressed lightly against its ribs, frowning.

The whole time, Liu Xian just stood there.

Awkward. Stiff.

He wasn't sure if he should say something.

So he just… didn't.

After a few minutes, Dr. Fan finally spoke. "Malnourished. Dehydrated. Some minor wounds. The leg isn't broken, but it's sprained."

Xian let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"So… it'll be okay?"

Dr. Fan glanced at him.

"…If it gets proper care, yeah."

Liu Xian nodded slowly.

Then came the next problem.

"What do you want to do with it?" Dr. Fan asked.

Liu Xian blinked. "…Huh?"

"You brought it here. Are you planning to keep it?"

Liu Xian froze.

Keep it?

He just… he just didn't want it to die.

But now that he was here, standing in this tiny clinic, looking at the half-dead stray on the table… he realized something.

If he left it here, what would happen?

Would they actually take care of it?

Or would it just end up back on the streets, starving and hurt all over again?

He swallowed.

"I… I don't know," he admitted.

Dr. Fan studied him again.

For a long moment, he didn't say anything.

Then, finally—

"You don't have to decide now," he stated simply. "We'll keep it here for a few days. Make sure it recovers."

Liu Xian nodded slowly, relieved.

That was… good.

He turned to leave.

But just as he reached the door, Dr. Fan's voice stopped him.

"…You're Liu Xian, right?"

Liu Xian stiffened.

He didn't turn around.

"You're the kid people talk about," He continued. "The one with the curse."

Liu Xian's hands clenched into fists.

Here it was.

The real conversation.

He braced himself for whatever was coming next.

But all Dr. Fan said was:

"I don't believe in curses."

Liu Xian's breath caught.

For a moment, he didn't know what to say.

Then, without another word, he walked out the door.