Seeing her staring straight at him, Zhao Wenbo’s cheeks flushed as he asked,
“Dr. Shen, how are you feeling?”
“Much better, thank you. How much did this cost? I’ll pay you back.”
Shen Qingli didn’t want to take advantage of anyone. As she spoke, she reached for her bag, but Zhao Wenbo interrupted:
“Pay for what? You’re a doctor. This little illness should be covered by the hospital anyway. As for the private room, I just mentioned it, and since one was available, they let you stay. That’s all.”
Shen Qingli knew the hospital’s procedures well.
Getting registered as a patient, especially for someone else’s hospital, wasn’t easy. And a private room simply being handed over? That meant his status wasn’t simple.
She didn’t comment further. No matter how high his status, it had nothing to do with her. She didn’t expect special privileges—she didn’t even get that with her own husband, so she certainly wouldn’t rely on a stranger’s generosity.
Her head spun, her body weak. She lay down on the hospital bed, and once the nurse set up the IV, she closed her eyes.
Zhao Wenbo sat beside the bed, pretending casual interest as he glanced at her face. His eyes lingered, and he asked almost in a whisper:
“Dr. Shen, can I call you Qingli?”
“Either’s fine,” she said lightly, without thinking.
Zhao Wenbo’s ears burned red, his back tense. He silently repeated “Qingli” in his mind, each time feeling the name grow sweeter. A faint smile curved his lips, and he quietly left.
After all, rumors could spread quickly. He and Shen Qingli weren’t close enough for him to stay with her overnight.
“Alright, Qingli, I’ll go for now. I’ll check on you tomorrow. If anything happens or your IV needs changing, call the nurse—I’ve already told them.”
Shen Qingli nodded. Once he left, she pulled the pillow closer, preparing to sleep.
Just then, Zhang Aifang pushed the door open, her smile teasing:
“Dr. Shen, you’re amazing.”
Startled, Shen Qingli frowned.
“What’s the matter?”
Zhang Aifang’s gossip instincts kicked in. She hurried in, closed the door, and said:
“This Comrade Zhao is no ordinary person. I saw him just now, fussing to get you a private room. Even the head nurse ignored him, ready to let someone else occupy it. But guess what? He said his father is Zhao Feng.”
Shen Qingli furrowed her brow. She had no idea who Zhao Feng was.
Seeing her confusion, Zhang Aifang hurriedly explained:
“The chief of the municipal police! He’s a deputy department-level official.”
Shen Qingli froze briefly. She had known Zhao Wenbo came from a good family, but she didn’t expect someone so shy and awkward to be the son of a high-ranking official.
She calmly said:
“I just treated him for a boil on his back last time. He’s a decent person. He saw I wasn’t feeling well, so he kindly helped.”
Zhang Aifang smiled with a mischievous hint and teased:
“Alright, alright, let’s call it kindness. Hope I meet such a nice man one day too.”
Then she left.
Shen Qingli exhaled lightly. She didn’t know Zhao Wenbo’s intentions, but she felt it necessary to clarify her marital status—she didn’t want to mislead him.
That night, Shen Qingli slept soundly. Meanwhile, Su Jingshen sat in the residential compound, smoking on the sofa all night.
By dawn, he would occasionally glance outside, frown, and take heavy breaths—clearly still angry.
After a while, seeing she hadn’t returned, he couldn’t stay put. He grabbed his military coat from the hanger and left.
Driving into the city, he had no idea what Shen Qingli was doing, but he felt there was no reason for her to stay out all night. He remembered seeing her at the wonton stall before and headed there.
At this moment, Shen Qingli had fully recovered and stepped out of the hospital to buy breakfast. She ran into Zhao Wenbo, who was jogging with a food container, smiling:
“Qingli, I brought you breakfast. Why are you up so early?”
Recalling what Zhang Aifang had hinted yesterday, she immediately said:
“Comrade Zhao, I think I need to explain something to you—”
Before she could finish, Zhao Wenbo interrupted:
“Eat first. We can talk after. You just got over being sick, your stomach is weak. You need something nourishing. I made chicken soup wontons for you. Try them.”
Shen Qingli paused, looking at the shy way he handed her the container. She wanted to explain about her marriage even more, but before she could speak again, a cold, sharp voice rang out nearby:
“Shen Qingli.”
Her heart skipped a beat. Instinctively, she lifted her eyes.
Su Jingshen sat in a jeep, his eyes slightly narrowed, exuding a dangerous, almost predatory aura, like a wolf on the edge of rage ready to strike.
Her mind went blank.
Su Jingshen’s cold gaze remained fixed, his chest heaving angrily, but he didn’t speak. He wanted to hear her explanation for being out all night with a man—especially in a situation like delivering chicken soup, clearly more than a casual acquaintance.
Zhao Wenbo sensed the tension, frowned, and cautiously said to him:
“Who are you? Why are you so harsh with Qingli?”
Su Jingshen smirked in annoyance, coldly lifting his chin:
“You should ask her who I am.”
Zhao Wenbo glanced at Shen Qingli, her lips pressed together, clearly upset. He decided not to ask further and stood firmly beside her, glaring at Su Jingshen:
“I don’t care who you are. Don’t be so harsh with her again. Even if you’re in the military, I’m not someone to be pushed around.”
He even positioned himself to block Su Jingshen’s view of Shen Qingli, so she wouldn’t see and feel sad.
But Su Jingshen replied:
“I’m her husband. When you like someone, don’t you check if she’s married? Or are you trying to ruin a military marriage?”
Zhao Wenbo froze, struck as if by lightning. His chest tightened uncomfortably, as if wrapped in a suffocating weight.
Su Jingshen turned his gaze from Zhao Wenbo to Shen Qingli:
“And you? Planning an affair? That probably won’t end lightly.”
Shen Qingli’s hands clenched tightly, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.
Lin Meiyun’s intentions toward him had been obvious; he accepted her flattery without hesitation. Yet here she was, only being delivered chicken soup by Zhao Wenbo, and he said such harsh words.
Swallowing her bitterness, she said firmly:
“Stop spreading lies. Zhao and I are innocent.”
Su Jingshen, now angry, raised his voice:
“Innocent? Out all night, delivering chicken soup early in the morning. Don’t tell me it was a coincidence, or that you paid him to do it. And look at him—he obviously didn’t know you were married. How could you not tell him when he was being so overly concerned?”