Sandra Steel stood in the middle of the waiting room at Prosperity Health Clinic without raising her voice. Patients, nurses, and the clinic guard, who still felt guilty, all remained silent because the direction of the room had changed. She looked at Endi Wang first. “State your full name, your position, and your reason for calling security to remove my grandfather.” Endi stiffened, then adjusted the identification card on his chest as if it could still protect him. “Doctor Endi Wang, internal medicine specialist. I called security because Mr. Suryo disrupted a medical review, provoked patients, and interfered in treatment he did not understand.” “So you called security because he defended the doctor who once helped him?” Sandra asked. “I called security because he made the waiting room unsuitable,” Endi replie

Peter released Sandra Steel’s hand at the right moment, then closed the silver needle box so his hand movements had a natural reason. His face remained calm, but within his dantian, the Qi that normally moved slowly suddenly trembled like water touched by the first rain. Peter’s spiritual vision caught something no one else in the waiting room at Prosperity Health Clinic could see. Beneath Sandra’s skin, moving along her meridians with unusual calm, was an extremely fine golden flow. The energy did not shine brightly. It did not surge outward like a technique deliberately put on display. No one around her would have realized that her body carried something different. Peter had received a small recovery from the energy of certain patients before, including Nina Yap. Yet what he sensed from Sandra was far more stable. The Qi was dense but gentle, as though it had been a natural part of her body since birt

At nine in the morning, three days after Sandra Steel left Prosperity Health Clinic, Peter Davis entered through the front doors with calm steps.He carried a slim folder containing three documents: a list of patients referred to the hospital when the conflict at the clinic reached its peak, copies of treatment consent forms, and six written conditions signed by Doctor Antoni Wong.Peter had not come to see patients, nor had he brought a box of Forging Qi Pills. He had already explained to Wong that the visit would last one hour and was meant to determine whether the rules created during the clinic’s crisis were still being followed when he was not present.Lina was waiting in a small consultation room with Wong. Two patient folders, a new records book, and a copy of the staff schedule with clearly assigned duties sat on the table.“Start with the patient who had the foot wound,” Peter said after taking a seat. “I want to see the referral time, the hospital admission, and the family n

At eleven thirty that night, Endi Wang sat alone at a coffee stall behind the workshop of Prosperity Health Clinic’s generator technician. The place did not look dangerous. There were only rows of plastic tables, harsh white lights, the sound of an air compressor from the workshop, and ordinary customers occupied with coffee and cigarettes. Endi stared at his right hand. His fingers held a spoon, but he did not stir his drink or take a sip. What kept turning in his mind was Peter Davis’s hand holding needles before patients, the hand opening the Steel invitation, and the hand placing evidence and questions on the table until Endi had nothing left to answer. Until now, Endi had tried to destroy Peter’s name through reports, procedure, and formal language. Yet every time Peter refused to sell pills carelessly or referred a patient to the hospital, patients saw him as a doctor more worthy of trust.

At seven thirty in the morning, Peter Davis was already seated at the small table in Apartment 307, with a cup of tea growing cold beside his left hand. In front of him lay a brown envelope containing five million rupiah, still sealed. There were also two copies of the recording, screenshots of Endi’s messages to the generator technician, a written timeline, and an empty slim folder for recording the meeting that would take place at the clinic. Peter did not open the envelope. He only photographed the front, back, sealed corners, and the small print from the stationery shop that could still be seen on one side. After that, he placed it inside a clear plastic evidence bag so its condition would not change before the person who sent it was given a chance to speak. In his small notebook, Peter carefully wrote down the date and time. He recorded the time of Endi’s meeting at the coffee stall behind the workshop,