Old Mrs. Qin turned her head to look at them and asked politely, “Hello, is the child inside yours…”
“He’s our grandson. What’s it to you? Who are you people?” Zhao Xingfen’s tone was far from courteous.
Seeing the couple’s guarded and hostile expressions, Director Yan quickly smoothed things over. “We’re here to visit a patient. We must have gotten the wrong room. Sorry about that.”
As he explained, he gestured to the nurse assisting the old lady.
The nurse understood immediately and helped Old Mrs. Qin back into her wheelchair, quickly wheeling her away.
Old Mr. Qin looked embarrassed and smiled apologetically at Lin Zheng’an and his wife. “Sorry to disturb you.”
Zhao Xingfen stared at their hurriedly retreating figures, muttering under her breath.
“That old woman was wearing a hospital gown, and she had a doctor with her, so she’s probably a patient here. But she was acting so sneaky—could she be a trafficker in disguise, trying to steal a child?”
Lin Zheng’an spat back at her, “Would a trafficker be that stupid? Steal a kid with leukemia? Come on, let’s go find Weiwei. Yanzhou is still locked up at the police station!”
The two didn’t dwell on it and quickly pushed the door open.
Lin Xiwei had just finished shaving her son’s head and was cleaning up the hair clippings on the floor when she heard her parents’ voices outside the door.
She didn’t go out to greet them. Instead, a flicker of irritation rose in her heart.
Around noon, her parents had called her several times, and she hadn’t picked up.
Even without answering, she knew exactly what they wanted to say.
They’d definitely urge her to soften her attitude, go coax Su Yunfan, and patch things up with him as soon as possible.
“Weiwei, have you had lunch? Look, I brought you some chicken soup. Drink it while it’s hot.”
Zhao Xingfen walked in with a smile plastered on her face, lifting the insulated container in her hand.
Lin Xiwei was startled and looked at her mother, surprised that she was being so nice to her today.
Her expression remained indifferent. She didn’t respond, didn’t even greet them.
In her heart, she still remembered the slap her father had dealt her that day.
Lin Zheng’an could read her mind and snorted. “What, still mad about me hitting you that day? A father disciplining his child—isn’t that only natural?”
Lin Xiwei asked calmly in return, “Then have you ever disciplined Yanzhou, from childhood to now?”
Her younger brother, Lin Yanzhou, was six years younger than her. He was the family’s treasure, spoiled rotten by their parents since birth.
He’d never been hit, not even a harsh word from their parents.
Lin Zheng’an was momentarily stumped, his face hardening as he prepared to flare up again.
But Zhao Xingfen cut in first. “Weiwei, ignore your father. Come have some soup. I went to the market specially to buy a free-range chicken—the broth is so fragrant.”
Ever since learning her son was sick, Lin Xiwei hadn’t eaten much these past few days.
Now, catching the aroma of the chicken soup and seeing her mother’s gentle expression, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of grievance, and in a moment of emotion, she relented.
“Mm, thanks, Mom,” she replied softly, stepping forward to take the bowl of soup.
But she’d barely sat down and taken a sip before she frowned.
The soup was thick with the taste of chicken bouillon—it wasn’t from a freshly stewed free-range chicken at all. It was clearly the kind of pre-made soup you’d get from a restaurant.
She stared at the spoon and, for no reason, curled her lips into a bitter smile.
So she’d thought her mother was being kind today, actually feeling for her daughter.
On the hospital bed, Su Chengjun fiddled with his toys and didn’t greet the elders when they arrived.
Lin Zheng’an had something on his mind and was anxious, but his wife kept giving him looks, signaling him to wait. He had no choice but to hold back.
Then his gaze landed on his grandson in the bed.
“Why’d you shave his head? He looks like a little monk.”
As he complained, Lin Zheng’an reached out to touch the child’s head.
But the little one jerked his head away, dodging him outright. “Don’t touch me.”
The reaction stunned all the adults.
Lin Zheng’an’s temper flared instantly. “You little brat! I’m your grandfather! What kind of attitude is that!”
“You hit Mommy. I don’t like you.” The little one replied without flinching.
Furious, Lin Zheng’an raised his hand without hesitation.
“Dad!” Lin Xiwei shot up and threw herself over her son, wrapping him in her arms. “Junjun is sick. Don’t hold it against him.”
“Waaah…” Su Chengjun, hidden in his mother’s embrace, opened his mouth and burst into tears. “I don’t want Grandpa! Grandpa is so mean… Grandpa is a bad guy, a bad guy…”
Lin Zheng’an was livid. “See! They say three years old shows what a person will be like at eighty—he’s already this defiant now, he’ll disown his own family in the future! Look at you—can’t raise a child right, can’t keep a husband—you—”
“Say less! The child is sick, why are you picking a fight with him? Weiwei’s life is hard enough as it is.”
Zhao Xingfen yanked her husband back. Though her words defended her daughter, her face was making exaggerated gestures, reminding him again of the purpose of their visit.
Seeing her son wailing, Lin Xiwei’s heart ached. She comforted the child while steeling herself, then turned to face her parents.
“You two should head back. Take the soup with you. I’ll be busy taking care of Junjun for a while, so I won’t have time to visit you. Just take care of yourselves—no need to come to the hospital.”
No point in upsetting the child, and no point in upsetting herself.
Seeing her daughter’s stony expression, Zhao Xingfen knew the atmosphere had soured again.
But they’d come all this way—they couldn’t leave empty-handed.
She pressed her lips together and hesitated for a long moment before forcing a smile and speaking up: “Weiwei, it’s fine if you don’t have time to come back and see us. Then… just give us some more money.”
More money?
Lin Xiwei whipped her head around to look at her parents, her heart turning to ice in an instant.
“You two deliberately brought over that packaged chicken soup to curry favor with me, just to ask for money?”
Seeing her daughter see through the “homemade chicken soup,” Zhao Xingfen’s face couldn’t hold up, but for the sake of her son, she still carried her favoritism to the end.
“Weiwei, this time is different! It’s Yanzhou who’s in trouble. We had no other choice but to come to you.”
“What trouble is he in now? Don’t tell me he’s also terminally ill?” Lin Xiwei couldn’t help but sneer.
“What nonsense are you talking! What kind of sister curses her own brother like that!” Lin Zheng’an glared with his beard bristling, barking sharply.
Zhao Xingfen held her husband back and explained with a bitter face: “Today he was riding a motorcycle with his friends and knocked over an old man, breaking his bones. The other party is asking for a fortune—four hundred thousand! You need to think of something fast, or your brother will be thrown in jail.”
Four hundred thousand.
Lin Xiwei listened to the number and could only sneer coldly.
“He’s already in his early twenties, long since an adult. Let him go to jail then—taking responsibility for his own actions is a good thing.”
“Weiwei, how can you be like this? He’s your brother! Are you just going to watch him ruin his whole life?” Zhao Xingfen couldn’t believe her daughter could be so heartless.
“Then what am I supposed to do? A few months ago, Dad said he wanted to partner with someone to open a restaurant and asked me for two hundred thousand. I told him then that I had no money left. Now Junjun is sick, the medical bills are five hundred thousand, and you’re asking me for another four hundred thousand. Am I a money printer?”
“You don’t have money, but Yunfan does!”
“We’re about to get divorced. He won’t even pay for Junjun’s medical bills—how could he possibly clean up his brother-in-law’s mess?”
Zhao Xingfen stepped forward and grabbed her hand, persuading earnestly: “Why get divorced? You’re already in your late twenties. Where would you find another man with Yunfan’s qualifications after a divorce? Go beg him, talk to him nicely, and he won’t divorce you.”
“…” Lin Xiwei remained silent.
“Weiwei, listen to my advice—you can’t divorce. Your dad’s restaurant just got on track and hasn’t started turning a profit yet. What if the cash flow tightens up again? Yanzhou doesn’t have much education. If we don’t save up some marriage money for him, how will he ever get married and start a family? Our Lin family has only this one son—we can’t just watch him—”
Lin Xiwei couldn’t listen anymore. She shoved her mother back with one hand and pushed her out: “You’ve only ever had eyes for your son. You’ve never treated me as a daughter. I’m just your free blood bag. You don’t deserve to be parents at all!”
Lin Zheng’an hadn’t expected his daughter to truly watch her brother die without helping, and he flew into a rage on the spot.
“Lin Xiwei, I’m telling you—this time you’ll help whether you want to or not!”
Lin Xiwei let out a laugh. “Then should I just give my life back to you?”
“Slap!” Lin Zheng’an raised his hand again and brought it down in another strike.
Zhao Xingfen reached out to stop him but wasn’t fast enough.
“Hey! Why are you hitting her again! We still need her to raise the money to save your son, you really are—”
Zhao Xingfen scolded her husband, but before she could finish, Su Chengjun had already charged over, hurling the toy model in his hand at them with all his might.
“Grandpa bad! Grandma bad! Don’t you dare hit my mommy! I hate you! Go away!”
The little one used every ounce of his strength, slapping at them relentlessly.
Sister Hong came back up after finishing her meal downstairs and happened to witness the scene. She hurried over to mediate.
Seeing that today’s negotiation was a bust, Zhao Xingfen could only drag her husband away in a huff.
Once the ward fell quiet, Sister Hong saw the five-finger mark on Lin Xiwei’s face and her heart ached. “How can there be parents like that in this world…”
Xiao Junjun hugged his mother, crying in fear without stopping.
Lin Xiwei held back her emotions and kept soothing her son.
After a while, once the little one’s mood had settled a bit, she looked at Sister Hong and instructed: “Sister Hong, stay with Junjun. I’m going out for a bit.”
Sister Hong worried she might do something rash and said softly: “No matter how hard it gets, it’ll pass. You still have your child.”
Lin Xiwei nodded. “Don’t worry, I can handle it.”
The moment she turned and stepped out the door, tears burst forth and streamed down her face.
She had never imagined that one day she would become a “Fan Shengmei.”
Sucked dry by her own flesh and blood to such an appalling degree.
They didn’t care at all how heartbroken their daughter was, didn’t care about their grandson’s illness, didn’t even care whether the child lived or died.
Their eyes held only their son—that good-for-nothing, that troublemaker.
The more Lin Xiwei thought about it, the more despairing she became. She didn’t know where to go; she only felt a suffocating tightness in her chest and wanted to feel the wind to clear her head. So she walked to the terrace at the end of the corridor.
The wind was strong.
The early winter wind whipped across her face, brushing over tear-soaked skin, bringing a dense, prickling pain like being gnawed by ants.
Thinking of the upheavals of these past few days—her husband’s betrayal, the mistress’s provocation, her child’s grave illness, her parents’ bloodsucking…
For one fleeting moment, she truly wanted to leap from where she stood and be free of it all in an instant.
No one was around. Lin Xiwei no longer had to pretend to be strong.
So she crouched down against the wall, wrapping her arms tightly around herself, letting her tears run wild, washing away the pain and grievance in her heart.
She cried for what felt like an eternity before finally feeling a bit better.
She sniffled and lifted her head, about to brace herself against the wall to stand up, when suddenly the safety door on the other side of the terrace was pushed open.
Her heart fluttered with panic, thinking how embarrassing it would be to be caught crying like this—but as she focused her gaze, her expression froze.
The tall, upright figure standing at the doorway was, unexpectedly, the same man she had encountered several times in the elevator.
His presence was commanding, solemn and imposing, making people dare not approach.
Their eyes met, and Qin Jiamo’s gaze darkened, his cold, resolute features pausing slightly.