Chapter Text
Shen Qiao kind of disliked this job.
He was not the sort of person who would verbally complain about said job, but he privately lamented his decision to take this position. He was currently working part-time night shift as a cashier at a convenience store, and it was a miserable experience any way you looked at it. It was a dangerous, dead-end job that barely paid enough for him to live off of, but it was perfectly suited for a thirty-year-old man who had no other good options, so he'd taken it. He promptly began to regret it.
His employer had assigned him to work the closing shift, which started at six in the evening and ended at midnight. Shen Qiao was, predictably, one of the only employees at this small standalone who would be willing to work such a shift, and thus ended up running the store by himself most evenings. This would be fine if it weren't for the fact that this convenience store was located in one of the city districts that was largely populated by party animals and habitual bar crawlers.
Shen Qiao had dealt with all manner of drunks, some worse than others, but was usually able to deescalate things before they turned violent. He was more than capable of defending himself and had no qualms with doing so, but he much preferred a peaceful solution whenever possible.
Thankfully, Shen Qiao was having a fairly uneventful evening so far. It was nearly midnight, and he yawned, stretching his arms over his head. It didn't look as though they would be getting many more customers tonight; the dimly lit streets were empty, and it had been over an hour since the last person stopped in. The only noise came from the occasional rev of a distant engine or a hushed laugh shared between a couple passing by. Not much partying was taking place on a dreary Wednesday evening.
Shen Qiao had just finished locking up and turning out all the lights in the front of the store when he heard a scratching noise at the rear staff entrance. He frowned and grabbed the metal baseball bat his predecessor had stored behind the employee locker. Presumably, this was just the sort of occasion he'd use it for.
Shen Qiao cautiously approached the door, trying to reassure himself. It's probably just a stray dog looking for a meal, he thought hopefully. There was that one mutt hanging around here that everyone in the neighborhood fed, including Shen Qiao, when he had leftovers to spare.
He opened the door slowly, peeking through the crack. There was nothing there. Shen Qiao had seen enough horror movies that this observation did not come with any sense of relief. He pressed his back up against the lockers and opened the door a little wider, brandishing his bat. Nothing. He stuck his head out fully and looked around. Still nothing.
His shoulders slumped. Well, okay. Maybe he'd imagined the sound. He went to close the door, but a hand shot into the doorway just before it slammed shut. Shen Qiao gasped and jumped at the loud yelping noise that followed. He let go of the doorknob in his surprise, unfortunately allowing the intruder to shove the door all the way open and stumble inside.
Shen Qiao's first thought was something along the lines of 'of course this would happen just before I get to go home', and his second was a contradictory 'I hope I didn't just break this person's hand'. He held the bat up as the stranger hobbled further into the room, leaning heavily against the wall.
"I'm sorry, but we're closed," Shen Qiao said, because it was physically impossible for him to be impolite even if he was currently threatening someone with a baseball bat. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave. If you don't, I'm afraid I'll have to call the authorities.”
"Do you sell band-aids?" the stranger slurred, as if he hadn't even heard him. "I've got a cut."
Shen Qiao frowned softly. "Sir, did you hear me before? We're closed."
"The door was unlocked," the stranger pointed out, like that was a perfectly valid excuse for him to just barge right on in - through the employees-only entrance, even. "Just need one band-aid. Such a small thing to ask for, really. I'll leave right after."
Shen Qiao sighed heavily. "Fine. If you promise to leave right away, I'll sell you a box of band-aids." It would be way less work to say that he closed the store a bit late due to a last-minute customer than it would be to call the authorities and be forced to fill out a bunch of paperwork while they arrested this drunkard for breaking in. He leaned the bat against the wall and followed after the man.
The man walked past him into the dark storefront as if he'd planned on getting his band-aids even if Shen Qiao hadn't agreed to sell them to him. Shen Qiao flicked the lights back on and warily shuffled to stand beside him. Surprisingly, Shen Qiao didn't smell any alcohol on him, but he was clearly a little out of it. Could it be drugs? He sure hoped not. He surreptitiously started looking him over for the cut he supposedly had.
He didn't immediately find it since he was half-turned away from Shen Qiao, but he did notice that this man was rather tall and stockily built, with long black hair that flowed freely down his back. There were streaks of white around the roots, so Shen Qiao guessed he might be quite a bit older than him. He was wearing a purple long-sleeved shirt and...were those leather pants? Who would wear something like that as if it were their everyday outfit?
Then the man turned around, and Shen Qiao barely held back a gasp when he finally saw the 'cut' the man had been talking about.
Somehow he didn't think a band-aid was going to patch up the giant fucking stab wound on the man's chest. It was scarily close to where his heart should be and appeared to be bleeding sluggishly. Shen Qiao made a noise of dismay.
"Sir," Shen Qiao began.
"You can just call me Yan Wushi," the drunk man replied, leaning sideways onto a rack in a way he probably thought was casual and cool, but in reality it just made him look like he was about two seconds away from fainting from blood loss. The man's gaze flicked down to his name tag briefly before returning to his own. "A-Qiao. Being called 'sir' like that makes me feel old."
Shen Qiao stiffened. This man was...infuriating! Who calls someone so familiarly like that when they'd only just met them?
"Sir," Shen Qiao began stiffly, ignoring his request. "I think you should go to a hospital. Would you like me to call an ambulance for you?"
"No, I'm fine," Yan Wushi said dismissively, fumbling with a box of band-aids from the shelf he'd been leaning on. "This is nothing."
"It very much looks like something," Shen Qiao countered. "It looks like a stab wound. And it probably requires medical attention from a licensed physician. It could easily become infected if it's left without proper treatment.”
“If you wanna play doctor on me, be my guest,” Yan Wushi replied with a smirk. He'd torn open the box of band-aids, grabbed the biggest one, and was attempting to peel the backing off of it with clumsy fingers. “But I won't be going to a hospital.”
Shen Qiao sighed, yanked the band-aid out of his hand, and stuffed it back into the box. He'd pay for the damaged box himself after he was done here; he sincerely doubted this man was planning on actually paying for it, anyways. I hope I don't regret this later. He grabbed Yan Wushi's wrist, led him back to the employees-only area, and not-so-gently shoved him into one of the cheap plastic chairs at the break table. He refused to feel guilty when the older man grunted in discomfort.
“It's a good thing you're not actually a doctor, your bedside manner is horrible,” Yan Wushi grumbled.
Shen Qiao ignored him with great effort and opened the supply cabinet, rummaging around until he found the first-aid kit they were required to keep on the premises. He frowned when he saw the last inspection date on the box and made a mental note to talk to his employer about it later, but for now, it should do. He set it on the break table and opened it.
“Please remove your shirt,” Shen Qiao requested politely, although truthfully, there wasn't much to remove, even without the tear over the wound. This man's purple v-neck cut so far down that it exposed half of his (admittedly very nice-looking) chest.
Yan Wushi quirked an eyebrow and grinned.
“No,” Shen Qiao immediately interrupted whatever lewd comment the man was about to make at that. “You're lucky I haven't already called the authorities. Please behave.”
Yan Wushi huffed. “Aw, you're no fun, A-Qiao,” he muttered, tugging the shirt over his head.
Shen Qiao sucked in a breath at the extent of the damage. “You were going to just slap a band-aid on this?” he hissed. He washed his hands in the sink and pulled on a pair of disposable gloves, returning to Yan Wushi and squatting down to begin cleaning up the wound. He grabbed a sterile wipe and started carefully mopping up the dried blood around the edges of the wound.
Yan Wushi's eyes never left his face and Shen Qiao fought to keep from fidgeting under the intense gaze. The room was silent for all of ten seconds before the man opened his big mouth again.
“You're not going to ask how I got it? A man wanders into your store with a stab wound and you're not even a little bit curious?”
“I highly doubt you got it from being mugged,” Shen Qiao replied succinctly. “Considering you're reluctant to go to a hospital, more than likely you were stabbed because you were doing something illegal, and I have no desire to be caught up in that. So no thank you.”
This man was probably either a triad member, a drug dealer, or a prostitute (Shen Qiao was doubtful about that last one but he certainly dressed the part), and either way he wanted nothing to do with it.
Yan Wushi pouted. How old are you? Shen Qiao thought incredulously. He looked to be in his mid-forties or so, but he acted like he was about five years old. Shaking his head, he squinted, leaning in a little closer to look at the wound.
With most of the dried blood cleaned away, Shen Qiao could tell that the wound looked worse than it was. It wasn't nearly as deep as he'd feared and didn't seem to have punctured any organs or broken any ribs. It should probably still be stitched up, but this first aid kit wasn't equipped with any of the things he'd need for that. He'd just have to make do.
Having cleaned it up the best he was able to with the supplies he had on hand, and after confirming that it was no longer actively bleeding, Shen Qiao applied antibiotic cream to the outside of the wound. Finally, he used some wound closure strips that he'd grabbed from out front – yet another thing he'd have to pay for out of pocket, but oh well – to pull the edges of the wound closed. He placed a sterile gauze pad over it.
“Hold this, please,” Shen Qiao requested, and Yan Wushi pressed the gauze pad so that Shen Qiao could awkwardly lean in and start wrapping an elastic bandage around his torso to hold it in place. He tried not to be too distracted by the warm breath he felt against his cheek as he did so. With one more neat wrap over his shoulder and around for good measure, Shen Qiao tucked the loose end of the bandage into the rest of it and smoothed it out so it'd have a better chance of staying.
With that finished, he turned his attention to Yan Wushi's knuckles, bloodied from where Shen Qiao had accidentally slammed the door on his hand earlier. “Give me your hand,” Shen Qiao requested, holding his own hand out.
“So forward, we haven't even had our first date yet,” Yan Wushi murmured, giving him a coquettish smirk. “But I accept A-Qiao's proposal.”
Shen Qiao just sighed, reached out, and grabbed the hand himself. Yan Wushi cackled.
To his relief, none of Yan Wushi's fingers seemed to be broken, though they were swelling a bit, and the skin over the first three knuckles was torn and raw. Shen Qiao treated them quickly as possible, wanting to get this man out of here so that he could go home.
“There,” Shen Qiao said finally. He grabbed the bloodied wipes and packaging and threw them away, along with the gloves he'd been wearing. “I still think you should see an actual doctor, but with any luck, that should keep everything from becoming infected until you can get to one.”
No response. When he turned back to look at Yan Wushi, the man's eyes were half-lidded and his frame was slumping to the side. “Oh no,” Shen Qiao said. “Nope.” He hurried over and shook his right shoulder gingerly, trying not to jostle the wound too much. “You can't sleep here,” he said firmly. “I have to close up the store and you have to leave .”
Yan Wushi made a whining noise, but slowly pushed himself to his feet, aided by Shen Qiao's hand at his elbow. He blinked, staggering towards the door. Shen Qiao opened it and held it for him. Yan Wushi turned to look over his shoulder at him.
“Thanks, Doctor Shen,” Yan Wushi slurred, giving him a loopy grin. “Hopefully I'll meet you again under more pleasant circumstances.”
You just broke into my workplace, I hope I never see your face again. Instead of verbalizing that, Shen Qiao offered a very fake smile and lied through his teeth. “It was no trouble. Please see a doctor for that wound.” And before Yan Wushi could do more than open his mouth to respond, he gently closed the door in his face.