Qiao Rongze’s face darkened. “Wanwan, do you really think I’m that useless? I’m going to be a surgeon someday, and you want me to go screw on bottle caps?”
He set down his pen and looked straight at her.
“That’s not what I meant!”
Bai Wanwan waved her hands frantically, her eyes reddening in an instant as tears streamed down her face.
“Rongze, how could you think that of me? I love you too much to ever look down on you! Dad’s sick, and we don’t even have next month’s rent. If you could earn a little money first, our family could finally catch a breath…”
She sobbed harder. “I’m your sister. I want nothing but the best for you, but I’m also scared this family won’t make it…”
Seeing him frozen in place, Bai Wanwan cried even harder.
Qiao Rongze felt like something was twisting in his chest.
He quickly pulled out the tattered handkerchief from his pocket and handed it over. “Sis, don’t cry. I was too harsh. I’m sorry—don’t take it to heart.”
Bai Wanwan took the handkerchief, lowered her head, and wiped her eyes, her shoulders trembling slightly.
Watching her like this, Qiao Rongze’s throat tightened, and he could barely get out another word.
He paused, then said in a low voice, “Fine, I’ll listen to you. I’ll find work first. But I’m not giving up on my studies. Once things ease up a bit, I’m still taking the college entrance exam.”
Only then did Bai Wanwan stop crying. She nodded gently. “I knew it. My little brother is the most sensible one.”
At dinner, there were only two cornmeal buns on the table and a bowl of boiled wild greens.
Qiao Rongze broke open his bun, and dry crumbs scattered across the table. He silently picked them up and put them in his mouth.
Bai Wanwan picked up a piece of vegetable and casually mentioned, “Rongze is going to the cannery today to ask about hiring.”
The moment Qiao Dehai heard this, he slapped his thigh. “Good! Now that’s the proper path!”
He stared at his son, his face full of approval. “You’re a grown man now—you need to carry your weight. Go to the factory this afternoon and ask around. Start working as soon as possible, keep it steady! Then I can die with my eyes closed!”
He sat back down heavily and took a sip of hot water from his coarse ceramic bowl.
Qiao Rongze lowered his head and gnawed at his bun, tasting nothing. He wanted to say that he was going to work for Wanwan’s sake, not because he’d accepted his fate. But the words caught in his throat, and he swallowed them back down.
That afternoon, he changed into a relatively neat jacket and headed out.
As he walked out of the courtyard, he glanced back at the house. Bai Wanwan stood at the door watching him leave, her lips moving slightly, but in the end, she said nothing.
He knew the cannery had limited hiring slots, and even if he got in, a monthly wage of a few dozen yuan wouldn’t even cover medicine. He didn’t want to live that kind of life, and he couldn’t afford to.
His memories from his past life told him that opportunities came only once—he had to seize the most critical moment.
A few dozen yuan a month at the cannery? Saving up a thousand would take forever, let alone making a name for himself.
He strode quickly through the hospital gates, heading straight for the director’s office. The hallway tiles were cracked in several places, and patches of plaster had peeled off the walls, but he didn’t slow down.
Inside, the old director was bent over reviewing documents.
Qiao Rongze pushed the door open and walked in without knocking.
“I’m here to apply.”
The old director jerked his head up, adjusted his glasses, and frowned deeply. “Apply? We have no hiring plans. Where did you graduate from? Do you have a license?”
Qiao Rongze lifted his chin slightly, his gaze calm and steady. “I haven’t started university yet, but I’ll pass the entrance exam for Jingda Medical School soon. As for skill—no one here is better than me.”
The old director’s hand froze, and his pen clattered onto the desk.
“Young man, do you have a medical license? The kind issued by the state?”
“…Not yet.”
Qiao Rongze answered in a low voice.
“Then have you done any clinical work? Which hospital did you work at? Rotations or internships?”
The old director’s brow furrowed deeper, his tone growing harsher.
“…I studied on my own.”
Qiao Rongze’s fingers tightened slightly.
“Then did anyone mentor you? Which specialist recommended you?”
The old director was practically boring into his eyes with his gaze.
“…No one.”
After those three questions, Qiao Rongze couldn’t answer a single one.
The old man completely lost his patience. He raised his hand and pointed at the door. “Get out! We don’t take in street quacks here! Security! Call security and have him thrown out!”
Two burly security guards came up and grabbed his arms, shoving him out while shouting, “Get lost! We don’t do fantasy shows here! Who do you think you are, some genius we should just let in?”
Qiao Rongze was pushed and stumbled, nearly falling.
He turned around to face the hospital gates.
“Remember this! You’re blind and heartless! When I become a top expert, you could beg on your knees and I still wouldn’t step foot through this door!”
A broken-down county hospital—what was there to be so high and mighty about?
He was holding decades of medical experience from the future in his hands—real, life-saving knowledge. How could he not even get a foot in the door?
He ran to several more clinics in town, and the results were all the same: cold faces, mockery, and being thrown out. He swallowed his anger, his chest tight with frustration, and thought he might as well go check on his younger brother Qiao Rongwei in the ward.
At least there he’d find some trace of family, even if just for a glance. But when he walked in, the bed was empty.
The bed that had belonged to Qiao Rongwei was clean and bare, the blanket folded neatly.
The nurse was patting down the quilt when she saw him come in and casually remarked, “Looking for someone? That bed was checked out this morning. The patient finished the paperwork and left directly.”
Qiao Rongze felt even more stifled, but on second thought, Qiao Rongwei was quick-witted—getting out early was a good thing. He could start earning money sooner and turn things around faster. After all, the family was in debt, and every day of work earlier meant one day less of pressure.
Meanwhile, Qiao Rongwei had indeed left the hospital at the crack of dawn.
He hadn’t waited for any notice at all—he handled the paperwork himself and walked out of the hospital on his own.
He had already mapped out three ways to make money in his head, planning to start with the simplest one first.
But just as he reached the village entrance, he heard a gaggle of middle-aged women chattering under the trees. They were huddled together, talking nonstop, their voices rising and falling.
“Hey, did you hear? The old Qiao family’s ancestral house was sold!”
“Really? The house passed down from their ancestors—sold just like that?”
“You bet! To pay off debts! One son’s medical treatment messed things up and left them drowning in debt; the other got into a fight and messed up his face, with medical bills that’d scare anyone to death! If they didn’t sell the house, how else would they fill that hole?”
The streetlight at the intersection cast a dim glow as the crowd murmured quietly around the vegetable stall.
A few of the women noticed someone stopping to listen, turned their heads, lowered their voices, and continued: “I heard that house is in a prime location—it sold for a good chunk of money. But still, it’s the old family home, lived in for generations. Demolished or sold, just like that.”
“Blame the father for making that call! The kids are useless, and he needed cash in a hurry, so he had to cut flesh to patch a wound.”
“Ah, it’s kind of pitiful, honestly. But this move… it’s really uprooting the family’s foundation.”
The moment Qiao Rongwei heard this, his anger shot straight to his head. He charged over and shouted, “Who sold it? What are you all talking nonsense about?!”
The women jumped in fright, turning in unison. When they recognized him, they froze for a second, then someone piped up with a curled lip: “Who else? Your old man…”
Before she could finish, the others tugged at her sleeve, signaling her to stop.
But it was already too late.
He couldn’t hear the rest—his mind was exploding with a single name: Qiao Qingyan!
This was all her doing!