After a while, Jiang finishes running tests on Mr. Xian's blood. His wristband projects a glowing strip of data, lines scrolling across his face like he's wearing a sci‑fi face mask.
He steps closer, holds the hologram out to me. "Here are the reports you needed."
I take them, nodding. "Thanks. I'll… manage to get the other blood samples soon enough."
He blinks, his antenna doing a tiny guilt‑wiggle. "Why are you saying thanks? You're doing all this to help me. I… owe you a big thing."
I stare at him.
Oh.
OH.
Look at my boy suddenly dropping heavy‑weight words like he's auditioning for a tragic romance drama.
"I owe you."
Sir, please—stay in your lane, you are a danger to my emotional stability.
Out loud, I just smirk, crossing my arms. "Ohh, look at you. Saying 'owe' like you're some serious dramatic man."
His shoulders pull back as if he's trying to look dignified, but his antenna embarrassingly wiggles upward like a happy puppy tail.
