This villa was simply too big; Qin Qinxi groped around for ages before finally finding the front door.

She secretly breathed a sigh of relief that no one was in the house.

Just before leaving, Qin Qinxi caught a glimpse of something by the entryway.

There hung a set of clothes—a pristine white two-piece ensemble: a men’s T-shirt and loose, oversized shorts with an elastic waistband.

Below was a shoe rack holding several pairs of slippers.

She glanced down at the meager fabric covering her body and then at her bare feet.

She couldn’t possibly run out like this. This wasn’t exactly a safe place, after all.

She knew it was impolite, but she really didn’t have time to worry about it.

Gritting her teeth, Qin Qinxi walked over, took the clothes off the hook, and quickly threw them on. Then she grabbed a pair of slippers from the rack, slipped her feet into them, and stepped out.

The clothes were way too big—the hem of the T-shirt nearly reached the middle of her thighs. Even after tightening the elastic waistband on the shorts, they kept sliding down, so she cinched it up another notch.

No time to fuss—she just had to get out of here.

She wondered what kind of laundry detergent that “Super Xiong” used; the scent on the clothes was actually quite pleasant.

Qin Qinxi made her way to the front door.

She had expected another fingerprint or password prompt, but when she placed her hand on the handle and gave it a twist, the door swung open effortlessly.

She stood there in stunned silence for a couple of seconds, then her mind went completely blank.

That “Super Xiong” had just kicked her. She thought about his grin, about him pointing a gun at her…

Qin Qinxi suddenly felt a chill run through her entire body.

People in their line of work surely wouldn’t leave the front door unlocked—wouldn’t even bother installing bulletproof walls?

Qin Qinxi immediately reached for her phone to call for help, only to realize something in a flash.

Her heart skipped a beat. Oh no—she’d left her phone downstairs!

Earlier, while she was upstairs, she’d been so nervous and scared that she’d forgotten to grab it when she went to take a shower. It must have fallen to the floor.

But she didn’t dare go back to retrieve it.

Suddenly, Qin Qinxi remembered that Uncle was also in Dubai.

He was her father’s older brother.

She’d heard from her father that ten years ago, Uncle had fallen out with the family, cut ties with Grandpa, and never returned home since.

As for the exact reason, her father refused to tell her, only saying that Uncle was doing business in Dubai, in Jebel Ali.

She recalled that when she was little, Uncle had always been very fond of her. She decided to head to Jebel Ali to look for him.

After stepping out the front door, Qin Qinxi hid behind two massive bonsai trees in the courtyard. At that moment, she was both thirsty and hungry.

She didn’t dare move right away.

First, she was afraid the man might come after her—or send someone to kill her. She could see the murderous intent in his eyes.

Crouching low against the flower pots, Qin Qinxi curled up into a tiny ball, knees drawn tight to her chest.

She didn’t even dare breathe deeply, clutching the gun in her hand as she trembled, scanning her surroundings.

Second, it was already late, and she was completely unfamiliar with the area—she feared encountering other dangers along the way.

Third, she wanted to wait—wait until dawn, wait until the man was gone, then slip away.

Just as she was thinking this, she heard a noise.

A chaotic clatter of footsteps—clearly a group of people.

Qin Qinxi’s heart leapt into her throat, her whole body shrinking even tighter, her limbs shaking violently, her grip on the gun so tight that her knuckles turned white.

The commotion was loud. She could vaguely make out voices assigning tasks, though she couldn’t make out the specifics.

But her intuition told her this gang was coming for her.

She squeezed the gun in her hand again. Her back was drenched in cold sweat.

After who knows how long, she heard the roar of many car engines.

Then the chaotic footsteps grew fainter and farther away.

Qin Qinxi swallowed hard, her throat parched—even though she was so dehydrated she barely had any saliva left.

She had no idea how long she’d been sitting there.

Her legs went numb first—not the kind of numbness you can still move, but a heavy, cement-like numbness that spread from the soles of her feet all the way up to her ankles.

She tried to wiggle her legs, but they wouldn’t obey.

The night breeze blew through the branches, sending tiny goosebumps rippling up her exposed calves.

She lifted her head and peered through the gaps in the foliage at the sky.

Dubai’s sky offered no stars—just a hazy, grayish glow, as if veiled in gauze.

She suddenly remembered the sky in Beijing.

From the window of the staff dormitory at Peking Union Medical College Hospital, you could see the Big Dipper at night.

She recalled her childhood, when her father pointed to the brightest star and said, “That’s the North Star. If you ever get lost, just find it.”

But now she was lost—she couldn’t find the North Star.

Her father was probably still in the operating room right now.

Her Mother would have just finished work at this hour.

Ever since she was little, Qin Qinxi had known that doctors were needed by others.

There was always someone bringing gifts to the house—fruit, tea, banners.

But she also knew that people smiled at her parents not because they liked them, but because they had a favor to ask.

So from a young age, she’d never liked accepting gifts, nor did she feel comfortable being fawned over.

Once, her father got drunk and said to her, “We lost seven this year.”

Seven patients—seven lives we couldn’t save.

She didn’t understand it then, but later she did.

Not everyone survived surgery in her father’s operating room.

That’s why she wanted to become a doctor.

End of Chapter 6: Chapter 6