The Paralel World Doctor

Misunderstanding

Peter did not chase her when she turned toward the side door of Melody Paradise.

He only watched her breathing from behind. The pill worked faster than expected, but the Qi that had returned to his fingertips opened a new question. To confirm it, he needed to check her pulse or the breathing point near her collarbone, not because of any dirty thought, but because her body had just shown something that should not appear in a world with Qi this thin.

“Stop for a moment,” Peter said.

She turned back impatiently. “What now? Are you going to say the next price is higher?”

“Give me your hand.”

“For what?”

“To check your pulse.”

The parking attendant, unwilling to lose the show, whistled at once. “Bro, your sales method is improving. From pills to holding hands.”

Several people laughed. Peter did not respond. She looked at his hand, then his face, then the people around them. She knew her body had improved. She also knew admitting it in front of these people meant giving victory to the medicine seller she had just despised.

At last, she extended her hand sharply. “Quick. Do not try anything.”

Peter touched her wrist with two fingers. Her pulse was steadier, but there was still obstruction in the upper breathing channel. He lifted his hand slightly, intending to check the point below the shoulder near the collarbone, the area commonly used to read breathing pressure. His movement was calm and measured. There was no other intention in it.

But she suddenly coughed.

Her body jerked forward while her hand pulled back too quickly. Her shoulder struck Peter’s arm, causing his palm to brush the wrong area. The contact was brief, only a flash, and Peter immediately withdrew his hand before anyone could fully understand the movement.

Unfortunately, in front of a karaoke door, a flash was often enough to become a story.

Her face turned red from anger and embarrassment. She stepped back, covered her chest with her small bag, and raised her voice sharply. “Pervert. You sell fake medicine and still dare to touch me?”

The air changed at once.

The parking attendant slapped his thigh. “Wow, first he sells medicine, now he wants a bonus?”

The red haired hostess laughed coldly as if she had been waiting for this opening. “I told you, men like this usually have intentions. The plastic table is only a disguise.”

The security guard straightened at the door. His eyes dropped to Peter’s hand, then to her angry face. Several customers who had just come out stopped, pleased to find a new show before going home. Music inside the building was still loud, but a small circle formed quickly outside the door.

Peter looked at his right hand.

The warmth from her Qi still lingered on his fingertips, but the accusation brought back the memory of the previous karaoke room. Cameras, tears, crowds, and people who enjoyed drama before asking questions. This world seemed to have the same habit at many doors.

He breathed slowly.

A long denial would only make them enjoy watching more. Anger would give them the story they wanted. Explaining pulse points and airway channels in front of drunk people would only make him sound like a fraud adding terms to look clever.

“If you feel wronged, call witnesses,” Peter said. “But do not forget that your breathing just improved.”

She fell silent for half a second.

That was enough for the parking attendant to glance at her. The red haired hostess also caught the pause, but she did not want to let her retreat too easily.

“What does better breathing have to do with a dirty hand?”

“Right,” said a drunk customer. “If the medicine is good, there is no need to touch.”

She clutched her bag tighter. In her chest, the air did move more easily. Her throat no longer burned the way it had before, and the cough that usually clawed upward felt restrained. But shame in front of the other hostesses burned hotter than relief in her lungs.

She pointed at Peter. “I already paid you. Do not think that just because your medicine reacted a little, you can talk as if I owe you.”

“I am not collecting from you.”

“Good. Do not come near me again.”

She walked back into Melody Paradise with heavy steps. The neon door closed behind her, swallowing her dress, perfume, and anger. The people outside kept commenting. The parking attendant shook his head with a knowing face, the red haired hostess gave a small laugh, and the security guard looked at Peter a few seconds longer before returning to his post.

Peter did not follow.

He looked at his fingertips. The remaining warmth had not disappeared. Earth was not completely poor in energy. Qi did not roam the air like in Zicari, but remained hidden in certain bodies, condensed by illness, pressure, or unusual constitutions. When the body responded to healing, a trace of it could bounce back.

In his hand, there were only three dollars, too little to be called a victory. Behind the door, the woman entered with anger, and the people inside would hear her accusation before they ever felt the proof of the pill.

Peter looked at the closed neon door. For tonight, he had gained loose change, a new accusation, and a secret far more valuable than the price of his medicine.