In this cramped space, there was only a worn-out folding bed and a few shabby daily necessities; everything else was clutter. The yellowed walls gave off a musty smell, and cobwebs hung in the corners.
Seeing the living conditions clearly, Lin Yanshu burned with rage. “Wu Ma, how do you do your job? Qianqian is my own sister—who allowed you to let her live here?”
Wu Ma felt wronged and helpless. “Young Master, weren’t you the one who told the Young Miss to move in here? Have you forgotten?”
“When did I ever—”
Halfway through his sentence, Lin Yanshu suddenly fell silent.
Eight years ago, on the day Lin Qian was brought home, he had let her choose a room.
Lin Qian picked the guest room next to his bedroom, and he refused on the spot. ”I’m turning this one into a study. Pick another.”
Then Lin Qian chose the room next to Wan’er’s bedroom, and he refused again. “Wan’er is turning that one into an art studio. You can’t live there.”
Finally, Lin Qian chose to live in the attic, but he refused that too. “You are a young lady of the Lin family. If outsiders found out you lived in the attic, they’d laugh at our family. Wu Ma, are there really no other rooms in the house?”
“There is one, but it’s just a storage room…”
“Then clean out the storage room and let her stay there for now.”
He had assumed the storage room was like the guest room—bright and airy with windows facing north and south. He never imagined it didn’t even have a window.
Images of Lin Qian spending day after day in this cold, lonely room surfaced unbidden in his mind, and the pain in his heart grew sharper.
In this enormous villa, even the servants had their own private bedrooms, yet his own sister had lived in a dark, damp storage room—for three whole years.
The realization nearly suffocated him.
A heavy, oppressive air radiated from Lin Yanshu. Wu Ma hesitated, then said, “The storage room is damp. Perhaps, Young Master, you should move the Young Miss to my room instead.”
“No need.” Lin Yanshu refused flatly. At that moment, his heart felt as if it were being pierced by countless fine needles, each one carrying guilt and tenderness, twisting together beyond words.
He took a deep breath. “Call Jinxiu. Tell him to come to my room.”
With that, he carried the unconscious Lin Qian in his arms and walked straight toward his own bedroom.
Watching Lin Yanshu’s somewhat hurried figure, Wu Ma felt happy for Lin Qian. The Young Master did care about the Young Miss after all. In the past, he had always cast her aside without a second thought—today, he was finally acting like a brother.
She hurriedly dialed Lu Jinxiu’s number. “Hello? Dr. Lu, my Young Miss is sick. Please come quickly…”
Five minutes later, the door to Lin Yanshu’s room was pushed open, his voice arriving before he did.
“I say, Young Master Lin, just how much of a sis-con are you? When Wan’er was sick, you wouldn’t even let her rest quietly in her own room—you insisted on dragging her to yours… Wait, why is it her?”
Lu Jinxiu walked in as he spoke, but the moment he saw Lin Qian lying pale-faced on the bed, the mockery on his face vanished instantly, replaced by contempt.
“I don’t treat convicts.” With that, he picked up his medical kit and turned to leave.
“Jinxiu.” Lin Yanshu frowned and stopped him, his voice low but carrying an unquestionable firmness. “She is my sister. Don’t call her a convict.”
The coldness on Lu Jinxiu’s face froze like frost. “She’s your sister? Then what about Wan’er? She’s only related to you by blood—Wan’er is the one who actually grew up with you. Gu Yilin was the perfectly healthy eldest daughter of the Gu family until she was driven into a vegetative state by her. And all she got was a mere five years in prison. When she came out, she could still live a normal life—but who ever gave Gu Yilin a chance to wake up? Gu Yilin’s whole life was destroyed by her!”
A trace of difficulty appeared on Lin Yanshu’s face, his hands clenching and loosening involuntarily.
On one side was his guilt toward Lin Qian and the bond of blood; on the other was the enormous injustice done to Wan’er and Gu Yilin. He felt as if he were caught between two massive boulders, unable to move forward or back.
“She… is my own sister, after all.” His voice carried a note of helplessness, yet he still stubbornly held his ground.
Lu Jinxiu looked coldly at Lin Qian’s thin, gaunt face, a mocking sneer curling at the corner of his mouth. “That’s not my problem. A vicious woman like her—even if she’s cured, she’ll only go on harming others.”
“Jinxiu!” Lin Yanshu’s tone hardened, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on Lu Jinxiu, filled with both pleading and an unyielding firmness that brooked no refusal. “Then at least examine her body. Especially her right leg.”
The two men locked eyes.
After a moment, Lu Jinxiu gave in. He sighed helplessly. “Fine, I’ll examine her. But don’t expect me to treat her.”
He walked back to the bedside, set down his medical kit, and roughly pulled up Lin Qian’s pant leg, muttering under his breath, “I really don’t know why you go to so much trouble for her. Someone like her should just be left to fend for hersel—”
The complaint cut off abruptly.
The moment his gaze fell on Lin Qian’s skin-and-bones leg, it was as if glued in place, fixed on the twisted break, shock washing over his mind in wave after wave.
Lin Qian’s right lower leg was bent at a grotesque angle, the skin stretched tight over the protruding bone with barely an ounce of flesh on it. The scar at the break site snaked like a hideous centipede across skin so pale it was nearly translucent, surrounded by dark red bruises.
Lu Jinxiu slowly raised his slender, well-defined fingers and gently touched the site of the break. Every inch of contact sent a chill through him.
His fingers trembled slightly despite himself. Though he felt nothing but revulsion toward Lin Qian, as a doctor he could tell at a glance, from a professional standpoint, just how severe the injury to this leg was.
“Her leg… has it always been like this?”
The question was like a stone dropped into a still lake, instantly stirring a fierce light in Lin Yanshu’s eyes. “Impossible. During those three years at home, her leg was perfectly fine.”
Lu Jinxiu understood at once—this injury must have been inflicted on Lin Qian in prison.
Forcibly suppressing his horror, Lu Jinxiu continued the examination.
As it went deeper, his brow furrowed tighter and tighter, his expression growing graver.
Lin Qian’s condition was simply terrible. Prolonged malnutrition had left her body extremely weak, and old and new injuries crisscrossed her skin—apparently from being whipped with something.
Lu Jinxiu couldn’t bear to watch any longer. He stood up, his voice hoarse. “Yanshu, come out for a moment.”
Leading Lu Jinxiu into the study, Lin Yanshu said gravely, “Go ahead.”
Lu Jinxiu forced himself to stay calm, gathered his thoughts, and spoke slowly. “Do you know how hard human bones are?”
Lin Yanshu shook his head.
Lu Jinxiu looked at him and said, word by word, “Human bones are extremely hard, especially the tibia and fibula in the legs. To cause a comminuted fracture usually requires a high-energy impact, like a serious traffic accident or a fall from a great height.
But since she was in prison, a traffic accident or a fall was nearly impossible. Her legs look more like they were beaten with a blunt object.
Judging from the wounds, she received essentially no professional treatment after the injury. The leg bones healed over time without ever being set, which is why her legs are twisted and deformed.
The pain during that process is beyond what an ordinary person can imagine. The fact that she survived until now is nothing short of a miracle.”
As Lin Yanshu listened, his body began to tremble uncontrollably. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white from the force.
His eyes instantly filled with bloodshot veins, rage churning in his chest like surging magma, as if it would swallow him whole.
“In prison… how did they dare!”
Images kept flashing through his mind—Lin Qian being tortured in prison, her frail body struck again and again with a blunt object.
A dull ache in his chest made his vision go black in waves. It took him a long while to suppress the fury burning inside him.
“Jinxiu, can Qianqian’s legs still recover?”
Lu Jinxiu shook his head, unable to bear it. “Her injuries are at least three years old. Treating them now—it’s too late.”
Lin Yanshu froze in place.
He didn’t know when Lu Jinxiu had left. When he came back to himself, he had already slumped, defeated, into his chair.
His mind was a chaotic mess. Out of habit, he pulled out a cigarette, but his trembling hands couldn’t get the lighter to catch.
In anguish, Lin Yanshu hurled the unlit cigarette violently to the floor, buried his face in his hands, fingers digging deep into his hair.
His body curled in on itself, trembling faintly, suppressed, ragged breaths escaping his throat from time to time.
Time seemed to stand still in that moment, with only his pain spreading endlessly.
After a long while, his breathing gradually steadied. He slowly raised his head, his face cold as ice, picked up his phone, and quickly dialed a number.
“Secretary Qin, find out everything Lin Qian went through during those five years in prison. Every last detail.” His voice was low and icy, every word as if edged with frost.