Shen Qingli stayed at home, feeling uneasy, though she didn’t dwell on it. After all, if her body suffered, it was her own problem. She went back to bed for a short nap. When she woke up and went to the bathroom, she saw little Su Tiantian standing on tiptoe at the sink, washing his face.
He was chubby, with a bowl-cut hairstyle, looking round-faced and healthy, almost identical to Su Jinian. Since Su Jinian and Su Jinshen resembled each other, his eyebrows and eyes also bore some resemblance to Su Jinshen’s. Yet, as Lin Meiyun’s son, there was still a trace of her in him, which instinctively made Shen Qingli dislike anything related to her.
Su Tiantian noticed her sullen expression, moved his plump little body aside, and, holding a dripping towel, offered her the bathroom:
“Auntie, you use it.”
Shen Qingli’s gaze remained indifferent. She didn’t feel happy at all despite his reaction. Even though Su Tiantian wasn’t a bad child, he was still Lin Meiyun’s son. Seeing his mother argue with her, he was bound to hold some resentment, and at his age, who knew how Lin Meiyun had influenced him? She entered the bathroom and closed the door.
Su Tiantian, sensing her displeasure and fearing further conflict at home, shrank his small neck, clutched the towel, and stood silently by the door, like a child being punished, not daring to make a sound.
When Shen Qingli came out and noticed his expression, she was even less inclined to say anything and headed straight to the kitchen.
Su Tiantian was even more nervous. In the past, quarrels usually arose over buying groceries or cooking. Lately, since Shen Qingli wasn’t home, Lin Meiyun had taken over the grocery shopping. He was still young but perceptive; he remembered how Lin Meiyun used to tell Shen Qingli to give him more meat so he could grow tall. But now, when she bought groceries herself, she didn’t get the best ingredients. He was truly afraid that Shen Qingli and Lin Meiyun would quarrel again.
He tiptoed to the kitchen and muttered:
“Auntie, I don’t like meat anymore.”
Shen Qingli looked back at him peeking in with a sulky expression and asked coldly:
“So?”
Su Tiantian’s confidence wavered:
“So my mom didn’t buy meat—not because she didn’t want to spend her own money.”
Shen Qingli smirked coldly. Mother and son indeed were alike. She had long known Lin Meiyun’s nature, but he was the first to defend her. She deliberately said:
“Fine. Since you don’t like it, I won’t buy a single piece of meat either.”
Su Tiantian’s long eyelashes trembled. At the thought of never eating delicious meat again, his stomach ached with craving. But then he realized her words weren’t wrong; if his mother didn’t even buy for him, how could he expect Shen Qingli to? Even if Su Jinshen gave her money, he was only a guest in their home—he couldn’t make so many demands.
At lunchtime, Shen Qingli cooked stir-fried green beans and eggplant—no meat in sight. She didn’t care whether Su Tiantian liked the food or not. Watching him frown and eat with difficulty while struggling through the meal, she found it rather amusing.
“You’re poisoning Tiantian?” Lin Meiyun entered, noticing Su Tiantian’s expression, concerned.
Shen Qingli lifted her gaze calmly:
“Are you blind? Haven’t you seen I’m eating too?”
Lin Meiyun persisted:
“Then why does my son look so unhappy eating?”
Shen Qingli snorted coldly:
“You’re stingy with meat, and he doesn’t like vegetables, so naturally, he looks this way.”
Only then did Lin Meiyun notice the dishes. In the past, Su Tiantian disliked vegetables but would eat potatoes, cauliflower, or garlic sprouts. This time, Shen Qingli had cooked entirely what he wouldn’t eat. She felt increasingly frustrated:
“Jinshen gives you fifty yuan a month—not to hoard it secretly. You have to take care of living expenses. Even if you didn’t spend on groceries these days, you can’t push it too far.”
She wished she could drag Su Jinshen back to see how Shen Qingli was “torturing” Su Tiantian. But Su Tiantian, shrinking his little neck, tugged on her sleeve:
“Mom, I don’t like meat anymore.”
Lin Meiyun was stunned. She looked at her timid son and gritted her teeth:
“Are you stupid?”
Su Tiantian shrank even more, not daring to meet her eyes. Lin Meiyun suppressed her anger, worried that speaking further might expose the family image she had maintained, and dragged him into the room.
Shen Qingli paused, unfazed by Su Tiantian’s defense. After all, he would never truly align with her. In her past life, whenever Lin Meiyun argued with her, it usually stemmed from using her son to provoke her, leveraging the Old Su family’s influence to pressure her.
That evening, Su Jinshen didn’t return to sleep. Shen Qingli didn’t care—if she didn’t return, she’d be scolded, and if he didn’t, well, that was his problem.
The next day at the hospital, before she even entered the outpatient department, she noticed an elderly man in patched clothes sitting on the long wooden bench outside Liu Shicheng’s clinic. He held his abdomen and was so weak that even his shoulders shook with each breath.
Liu Shicheng said:
“You have appendicitis. Surgery is required. We need to call your family to sign the consent form.”
The old man, struggling to breathe and sweating heavily, weakly said:
“Doctor, my son isn’t here. My wife is blind. Please operate—I can’t bear the pain.”
Liu Shicheng, maintaining a professional attitude, said:
“Sorry, surgery can’t proceed without family consent. If the pain is unbearable, I can prescribe painkillers and anti-inflammatory medicine. You have an appendiceal abscess, so we can try to reduce inflammation first.”
Shen Qingli frowned. Even though the old man looked pitiful, she knew these situations were prone to medical disputes. She was a junior doctor; one wrong move could have irreversible consequences, and she couldn’t risk being blamed. She didn’t dare gamble on whether he was trustworthy.
She was about to leave, but the old man lifted his head and looked at her.
Shen Qingli froze, her heart skipping a beat.
The man turned out to be the same person who, in her past life’s later years, had sent her to the hospital when she collapsed from depression.
She immediately stepped forward:
“Dr. Liu, report this patient to the Revolutionary Committee. I’ll perform the surgery.”
Liu Shicheng looked up, frowning:
“You know if complications arise, whoever reports it bears responsibility?”
Shen Qingli said firmly:
“Appendicitis is a minor surgery, with minimal risk of death.”
Liu Shicheng was speechless. Coming from such a small town, she was both naive and audacious. An elderly patient like this might not even afford the medical fees. Even if the surgery succeeded, he could fabricate complaints, demanding compensation. Even with committee consent, any incident would reflect on the person who authorized it.
But since she was willing to take responsibility, that suited him just fine. He immediately instructed the nurses:
“Nurse Zhang, transfer this patient to Dr. Shen’s queue, report it, and cancel the appointments behind her. Let her perform the surgery.”