The car, which had been driving smoothly, jolted slightly—even the driver, Old Chen, was startled by the young master’s words.
Song Hanzhou was surprised by his son’s sharpness. He opened his eyes and looked at that face, which bore some resemblance to the woman’s, his hand resting on his knee clenching suddenly.
Song Shu shouldn’t remember that woman.
He had a photo of himself with Cheng Shimiao, tucked inside an old book. His son had glanced at it once when he was four.
It was taken at the school sports meet—the only photo of them together.
That day, classmates had teased and pushed her toward him. She had just finished the 800-meter race, her face flushed and radiating warmth, a strand of hair stuck to the corner of her mouth, her lips a natural rosy color, like a perfectly ripe peach.
Too few girls in class were willing to participate in the school sports meet, so the class monitor, Zhou Yuming, had shamelessly traded on his roommate’s good looks to boost the girls’ enthusiasm. Sure enough, more than half the girls signed up.
But Cheng Shimiao wasn’t among them, because she had already signed up for the 800 meters before that incentive was even announced.
Song Hanzhou turned his face toward the window, his voice a little hoarse. “She isn’t.”
Song Shu muttered quietly, “Daddy’s lying.”
If that wasn’t Mommy, why did Daddy secretly deliver ointment to her?
When Aunt Bai had fallen down in front of him earlier, Daddy hadn’t even touched her.
Song Shu gently tugged at the man’s sleeve. “I don’t want to change doctors.”
“Why?”
Song Shu said, “I don’t like other people touching my eyes.”
Song Hanzhou was silent for a long while, then rubbed his brow in frustration before reluctantly agreeing.
Director Zhao’s office.
Director Zhao was nearly forty, with thinning hair and a belly big enough to balance a soda bottle on. Sitting behind his desk with his fingers interlaced, he studied the seemingly docile woman in front of him.
He pushed up his glasses. “Shimiao, be honest with me—have you offended President Song?”
Shimiao kept her hands in her pockets, her expression calm. “If I really had offended him, Director, do you think I’d still be standing here in one piece?”
Director Zhao choked. “Fair point. But he…”
“Director.”
Shimiao calmly cut him off. “This past month, I’ve treated Song Shu diligently and responsibly, without a single oversight. But since President Song doesn’t trust me, to avoid unnecessary trouble, if Song Shu comes for a follow-up again, let Dr. Su handle it.”
After all, Su Jiani had always been eager to fawn over the Song family—she’d surely be delighted.
Director Zhao sighed. “Fine.”
The moment Shimiao stepped out of the office, she ran into Su Jiani.
Su Jiani had long since heard about President Song’s dissatisfaction with Shimiao, and she gloated openly, her mouth practically curling up to the sky. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re scheming—throwing yourself at the young master’s family to become his stepmother. Didn’t expect to be despised, did you? It’s absolutely hilarious.”
In the past, Shimiao couldn’t even be bothered to say a single word to her. But right now, Su Jiani had the misfortune of catching Shimiao in a bad mood.
She stepped forward.
Shimiao stood at five foot six barefoot, a full head taller than Su Jiani, giving her a natural, imposing presence.
Su Jiani instinctively backed up, her momentum instantly deflated, blustering to hide her fear. “W-what are you doing?”
Shimiao smiled faintly. “If I really wanted to be his stepmother, I’d be far more qualified than you.”
With that, she didn’t spare Su Jiani so much as an extra glance, turning and walking away.
Su Jiani came back to her senses, glaring at her retreating figure, still shaken.
You see, Shi Miao was famous throughout the entire hospital for her good temper. No matter how much Su Jiani mocked her before, this silent gourd never dared to talk back.
But today, she’d actually dared to retort!
Su Jiani stomped her foot in fury. She’d known it—Shi Miao was nowhere near as meek as she appeared!
Gritting her teeth, she spat under her breath, “Hmph, President Song would never fall for you anyway.”
……
A week passed.
Shi Miao’s life went on as usual, unchanged by the appearance of her ex.
A doctor’s work was busy—there were surgeries every day—and Shi Miao had practically forgotten Song Hanzhou even existed.
Today, someone had sent flowers again. This was the third time in a week, always from the same person, but Shi Miao still had no idea who it was.
She wasn’t naive enough to think it was Song Hanzhou.
Today, besides the flowers, there was also a letter, filled with saccharine love poetry.
Xiao Man, never one to mind other people’s business quietly, held it up and read aloud: “Shi Miao~ You are like the shadowless lamp of the operating room, illuminating my heart; the way you wear your white coat is the most beautiful scenery I’ve ever seen. Though the medical field holds ten thousand splendors, none shines half as bright as the starlight in your eyes…”
“Huh, there are three typos.”
As the last syllable fell, several young nurses in the break room burst out laughing.
Shi Miao was bent over writing patient records. Her pen paused, and she didn’t even look up. “Xiao Man, keep reading and you’re buying your own bubble tea this month.”
Xiao Man immediately fell silent, sticking out her tongue, but she still sneakily brought the letter to her nose and sniffed. “Tsk, it’s even sprayed with perfume. Dr. Shi, this admirer of yours is quite the romantic. Who could it be?”
Shi Miao pressed her fingers against the bridge of her nose, her head a bit foggy, and frowned. “Throw it all out.”
She was allergic to pollen—not severely, but it made her uncomfortable, especially since she’d accidentally caught a cold these past two days and her nose was very sensitive.
Xiao Man said “Okay,” gathered up the flowers, and carried them out to toss.
Today, Song Hanzhou had canceled a meeting to bring Song Shu in for a follow-up appointment, but he didn’t follow him into the examination room, only sat on the bench outside.
The man wore a hand-tailored silver-gray suit, his tall, striking figure long-legged, his features exceptionally handsome. It was as if invisible walls surrounded him, making him utterly out of place in the disinfected-smelling environment.
Passing nurses and patients couldn’t help but steal glances at him.
Song Hanzhou sat perfectly straight, hands crossed on his knees, his platinum wristwatch exuding an air of cold luxury, his fingers long and well-defined.
The corridor was noisy, and a woman’s voice could faintly be heard coming from the examination room, not quite clear.
The man’s fingers were clenched tightly, veins winding across the back of his hand, slowly rubbing the mole at the base of his thumb.
Before long, the nanny came out of the examination room, holding Song Shu’s hand.
Song Hanzhou rose to his feet. The door of the examination room hadn’t been closed properly.
He instinctively glanced inside, catching only a glimpse of a female doctor sitting behind the computer, wearing a mask, bangs falling down, head lowered as she wrote something.
The nanny said respectfully, “President Song, the doctor says the young master is recovering very well. He just needs to take his medication on time and come back for follow-ups.”
Song Hanzhou withdrew his gaze without a trace, not noticing his son’s drooping head and clearly dejected expression. He only gave a slight nod, his thin lips parting. “Let’s go.”
At that very moment, a sharp scream suddenly rang out from the examination room.
Song Hanzhou’s expression changed drastically. His body reacted before his mind could—long legs striding, he shoved the door open and rushed inside almost in an instant.
In the examination room, a black bat was flapping its wings wildly, and the female doctor, terrified, lost her composure and fell from her chair.
Grabbing a medical record book at hand, he flicked his wrist and knocked the bat precisely to the ground.
Then he bent down, took hold of the woman’s arm, and helped her up, his voice cold: “Are you all right?”
It was the first time Su Jiani had seen Song Hanzhou this close. Her heart raced, and she blushed: “I-I’m fine. Thank you, President Song.”
Hearing the voice from behind the mask, Song Hanzhou froze abruptly, only then realizing he had mistaken her for someone else. The warmth around him instantly dropped, and he stepped back.
With his fingertips, he straightened his suit sleeve, which the woman had wrinkled from grabbing it, and said politely yet distantly: “You’re welcome.”
With that, he didn’t spare Su Jiani another glance, turning and striding straight out the door.
But as he exited, he accidentally bumped into someone.