The child, like Jiang Xinhe, suffered from heart disease. The moment it was lifted from the womb, its face was already cyanotic.
There was no need for resuscitation.
Despite knowing this fact, Chen Jue still instinctively turned the child over and patted its buttocks a few times. The child made no crying sounds, only faint whimpers—just a few—and even basic emergency measures couldn’t save it.
As the child’s electrocardiogram flatlined, everyone in the operating room fell silent.
Due to the patient’s unique condition, three departments collaborated on this surgery, with even Dean Chen providing guidance on the side. Chen Jue was the lead surgeon.
Thus, everyone in the silent operating room understood what the moment of silence when the electrocardiogram went flat meant.
Their silence was because the Huo Family’s Huachen Pharmaceutical Group was a major shareholder of their hospital.
Two lives lost—the hospital’s most important client.
Chen Jue was the attending physician, and he was the one who delivered the child via cesarean section. Therefore, it fell to him to step outside and explain the situation to the waiting family members.
He went.
Outside the operating room, many people were waiting—members of the Huo Family’s group and the Jiang Family’s group.
Chen Jue removed his mask and bowed slightly to the two families waiting outside.
“I’m sorry. I did everything I could.”
Chen Jue couldn’t recall whether his voice was as emotionless as usual, but after he spoke, the scene fell so silent it seemed frozen in time.
Chen Jue understood their grief, but it was too late.
He didn’t look up to see the expressions of the closest family members, nor did he particularly want to.
Just as he was about to turn and leave, Jiang Xinhe’s younger brother grabbed him by the collar.
“You did everything you could? Two lives, and you just casually say you did everything you could!”
Chen Jue could understand his sorrow. This was Jiang Xinhe’s closest younger brother, someone she often mentioned—the siblings had a very strong bond.
But Chen Jue pulled free from his grip, a chill rising in his heart. Why had these closest family members allowed someone with Jiang Xinhe’s heart condition to give birth?
Jiang Xinhe should never have had a child. In her final moments, she suffered heart failure and insufficient oxygen supply. The child, already afflicted with heart disease, was oxygen-deprived in the womb and was beyond saving the moment Chen Jue delivered it.
Jiang Xinhe’s brother, shaken off, swung his hand again. “How old are you to be the lead surgeon? Now my sister is dead—what do you have to say for yourself?”
Chen Jue merely glanced at him, expressionless. Such doubts had followed him ever since he became the head of cardiothoracic surgery last year.
He was used to it and had long stopped explaining.
He was indeed young—just turned 30—but they didn’t know he had already performed hundreds of surgeries.
The reason he didn’t explain was that he had earned his position through skill.
And there was a reason he was the one operating on Jiang Xinhe.
It wasn’t that there were no doctors more experienced than him, but none were bolder, more decisive, or more confident—and he was also Dean Chen’s son.
The other doctors who were unwilling or afraid to take on the case tacitly agreed that Jiang Xinhe’s patient could only be handled by him, thinking, “If something goes wrong and she can’t be saved, the Huo Family would at least spare the hospital a major scene out of respect for Dean Chen.”
Unfortunately, they were all mistaken. The accident happened just like that.
No one expected that the first to act wouldn’t be the Huo Family, but Jiang Xinhe’s younger brother.
The Huo family, including Jiang Xinhe's husband, had already gone to the ward to see Jiang Xinhe one last time, but her younger brother remained relentless.
Perhaps because his face showed no trace of sorrow, Jiang Xinhe's brother shouted at him with all his might: "They all say you have no emotions, that a doctor without compassion doesn't treat patients seriously! It's true—you cold-blooded butcher! Give my sister back to me!"
In his overwhelming grief, he dragged Chen Jue to the stairwell and forcefully pushed him down the stairs.
It happened in an instant—no one had time to react, and neither did Chen Jue.
After a twelve-hour surgery, Chen Jue was utterly exhausted, so he had no defenses when he was pushed down the stairs.
Just like that, he died.
Chen Jue slowly lowered his hand from his eyes, a single tear rolling down his cheek.
Cold, as if it had been delayed for too long and had already chilled.
His hand slowly fell to his stomach.
He thought he was dead; even in nightmares, he should have seen the devastated faces of the Jiang family or the gruesome scene of him falling down the stairs. Yet, for some reason, every time he dreamed, it was always of the child he had delivered from the womb.
Bloody, bruised, and purple…
The nightmare that had just tormented him, trapping his soul, was one he had been having for three days straight.
Yes, he had been in this world for three days…
Three days was enough time to bring closure.
"I acknowledge this child. I will give birth to him and let him live a good life. Xinhe."
Chen Jue raised his head and spoke slowly toward the faint light of dawn outside the window.
When he uttered that name, a pale smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
He reflected on his years of medical practice.
In all those years, he had never felt guilty about his medical skills toward anyone—except Jiang Xinhe.
It wasn't that his skills were lacking; he had done his best.
But it was precisely this "doing his best" that left him with an unresolved pain toward Jiang Xinhe, a pain that weighed on his heart and became a recurring nightmare night after night.
Jiang Xinhe had asked him to save the child, making him promise before entering the delivery room to prioritize the baby. Yet, he had saved neither.
If he had chosen to save the child first instead of trying to rescue Jiang Xinhe, could he perhaps have saved the little one?
One must not doubt oneself; once caught in such a situation, it becomes an endless cycle of self-justification.
Jiang Xinhe had finally become his heartache.
Outside the window, the rooster had finished pecking at the corn kernels and had wandered off somewhere. As a result, a faint light now filled the window. In the gradually brightening light, Chen Jue looked down at his stomach. It wasn't showing yet, only a large patch on his inner garment was visible.
The patch was sizable, covering his lower abdomen perfectly.
Chen Jue stared at the patch, unsure how to react.
He was naturally aloof. At one point, Dean Chen even suspected he had emotional barriers and lacked expression management, so he specifically booked an appointment for him with the psychologist Qin Shu.
"I've booked an appointment with your classmate for you. Don't feel pressured—tell him everything."
Qin Shu had been his classmate for a while, but after Chen Jue skipped two grades twice and pursued his master's and doctoral degrees separately, Qin Shu had started treating him with disdain.
He said sarcastically, "Is the genius here to mock us mere mortals? Emotional barriers, lack of expression management? You're just too absorbed in medicine to bother dealing with us ordinary people, let alone crack a smile. Hurry up and leave, don't delay me from treating the mortals."
He showed Dean Chen the medical record that Qin Shu had scribbled like ghost writing. Dean Chen said with lingering fear, "Thank goodness, thank goodness." Chen Jue didn't ask what exactly he was thankful for.
In any case, there was nothing wrong with him—he was probably just naturally cold-hearted.
Thinking this, he lowered his head and said to the child beneath the patch: "I've agreed to give birth to you. Since you're here for revenge, you must live well. I'm not very good at raising children—I'm not like your responsible mother from your past life, who was willing to sacrifice herself just so you could live. So you'll have to work hard yourself."
The causes of the past life bear the fruits of this life.
Chen Jue recalled the phrase the head nurse always had on her lips.
"Don't get involved in other people's karma—it'll drag you down with them."
Back then, the head nurse wasn't speaking to him. His relationship with patients was as clear-cut as the boundary between opposing sides.
The head nurse probably never imagined that one day she would become entangled in it too.
Jiang Xinhe had become his obsession, making him forget his lifelong belief in materialism in this life.
Author's Note:
I'm back. First, wishing everyone a happy New Year.
Updates will resume normally from now on—five chapters a week, daily updates after going premium. Thank you all for your support.