Chapter 23: Money for a Dress

Annette narrowed her eyes, puzzled. "Is there something else? Or are you just too uncomfortable to walk back to your room?"

Stuart paused, then said quietly, "Let's have lunch together."

It was a simple sentence, but the seriousness in his tone made it feel like a solemn vow.

Annette instantly understood—he must've found out about her surviving on coarse buns these past few days. Her lips curled into a soft smile. "Alright. Want me to help you back to your room?"

Sweet warmth bloomed in her chest like honey melting under sunlight. Being cared for—it was a feeling she hadn't realized she missed.

Stuart shook his head and turned to walk back toward the inpatient ward. His pace was slow, but steady. From behind, he looked nothing like someone who'd just undergone surgery.

Annette watched him for a moment, a smile lingering on her lips, before she picked up the cloth bag and headed to the kitchen to prepare the fish.

When the cook, Mr. Wang, saw the basin full of lively, silver-scaled crucian carp, he raised his brows in surprise. "You went to the pond too? I heard it was packed over there—couldn't even squeeze in."

Annette shrugged modestly. "Maybe I just got lucky. Managed to get a good haul."

Mr. Wang chuckled and began helping her clean the fish. "That's too many to eat in one go. Set half aside and keep them alive in a basin. I'll watch them for you in the storage room—no one will touch them. You can make another pot of soup tomorrow for Stuart."

Annette beamed. That was actually a brilliant idea. She couldn't help but think—Stuart must really have something about him. Everyone who knew him seemed to like him, treat him well. Well, except for his family, of course.

Oil was precious these days, and she wasn't about to use the kitchen's for frying. She simply dropped the fish into the pot and let them stew.

Glancing at her muddy clothes, she sighed—no change of clothes today. She headed to the washroom behind the canteen and used a damp towel to scrub herself clean, bit by bit.

As she exited the washroom, she spotted a familiar figure—Dr. Kirk Lee, the physician from City General who had misdiagnosed Stuart.

Her curiosity flared. What was he doing at a military hospital? And had it really been a mistake—or something more deliberate? The investigation hadn't concluded yet.

Lee looked flustered, walking fast and nervously down the corridor. Instinct prickling, Annette silently followed.

She trailed him all the way to the rear of the hospital, near the morgue. But just as she turned the corner, he vanished.

Cautiously hugging the wall, she crept forward—and voices floated through the air.

"Who told you to come find me?"

"I didn't have a choice. I'm under investigation. You think they'll let me off?"

"As long as you stick to your story—that it was a simple mistake—you'll be fine."

The rest of the conversation was too muffled to catch. Annette strained her ears but couldn't make out another word. Fear gripped her spine. What if they discovered her? What if they silenced her?

She crept back the way she came, heart pounding. Her hands were shaking.

Deliberate. It had been a deliberate misdiagnosis.

But… why?

She couldn't figure it out. Whatever the motive, it was way beyond her. She wasn't about to play detective and risk her neck. No, Stuart needed to know.

She darted back to the kitchen to check on the fish soup, then raced up the stairs to the ward.

Stuart looked up as she burst in, gently closing the door behind her. Concern creased his brow. "What happened?"

Annette glanced at the doorway one more time, then tiptoed to his bedside and whispered, "I just saw that doctor from City General—the one who misdiagnosed you. He met someone behind the morgue. From what I overheard… it sounded like he was paid to do it."

Stuart's brows furrowed as he processed her words, trying to gauge their truth.

Annette's voice grew more urgent. "I'm serious—I heard it myself. He said he was under investigation, and that he was scared. Then they lowered their voices and I couldn't hear the rest."

Stuart studied her carefully, then finally said, "If this was meant to be a secret, why would they meet at a military hospital morgue? It's risky. And why speak loudly enough for you to overhear?"

Annette froze. That was… a good point. If they were truly trying to hide something, why make it so easy for her to find out?

"You think… it was intentional? They wanted me to hear?"

Stuart's gaze darkened. "Maybe. It's possible someone wanted me to investigate."

But why? He didn't have enemies in the city—he'd only transferred to this unit three years ago and hadn't participated in any classified missions.

Still… his work was connected to nuclear research. Could that be it?

Annette's thoughts spiraled. Was this some Cold War spy thriller? Was Stuart a target?

She whispered cautiously, "You don't think… you're in danger, do you? Like, assassination-in-the-night kind of danger?"

Stuart couldn't help the laugh that escaped. "If they wanted me dead, I never would've made it to this hospital."

She nodded, reassured. "Still. You should be careful. I'll go check on the soup."

Shortly after she left, Sean arrived with a cloth bag in hand. Spotting Stuart alone, he glanced around. "Where's your wife?"

"She's at the kitchen."

Sean dropped the bag on the bedside table. "Brought you some powdered milk and malted cereal. I swung by your unit yesterday—Commander Richard asked me to deliver your salary and ration tickets. He's been tied up lately."

Stuart took the envelope. "How long are you staying in the city?"

"I've still got two weeks off. Need something?"

Stuart hesitated, then said, "Can you look into who's close with Dr. Kirk Lee? See if anything's off."

Sean raised an eyebrow. "So the misdiagnosis was intentional? That's a bold move."

"I'm not sure yet. That's why I need you to check."

Sean nodded. "Consider it done. I've got time."

He lingered a moment, casting a teasing look around the room. "Your wife, by the way… she's a good one. You'd better hold on tight. I know how to read people."

Stuart grunted. "If you're so free, go investigate already."

Sean chuckled. "Alright, alright. But hey—take my advice: make this marriage work."

He paused at the door, grinning. "And try to have a fat baby boy next year, huh?"

Stuart ignored him. Predictably, Sean took the hint and left.

Not long after, Annette returned with the soup, now a creamy, rich white. She'd even added thin slices of radish and brought back a few more soft white buns.

Stuart had said to eat together—so together they would eat.

After all, the fish had come free. No reason to be stingy.

As Annette set the bowls, Stuart slid an envelope toward her. It contained his wages and ration coupons.

"Sean dropped this off," he said awkwardly. "My salary and tickets for the month. Use it… to buy yourself a dress."

His ears turned red the moment the words left his mouth. He averted his gaze, pretending to be deeply interested in the view outside the window.

Annette glanced at the envelope, then at Stuart. Sunlight spilled over his face, catching the pink flush creeping up his ears.

She blinked—then suddenly burst into laughter.

Who would've thought? This stiff, old-school military man… blushing over money for a dress.

Utterly adorable.