Chapter 72
Another busy Monday.
The surgeries Wen Yan had scheduled today were the kind with titles longer than a menu. Her colleagues only had to glance at the list before sighing in sympathy. “Dr. Wen’s got another battle on her hands today.”
Wen Yan just smiled, picked up the chart binder, and walked briskly toward the operating rooms.
The first surgery began at 8:30.
The shadowless lamp snapped on, its cold white light spilling down like a waterfall and illuminating every detail of the operating table.
Wen Yan stood at the main surgeon’s position and held out her hands; the circulating nurse expertly helped her into sterile gloves.
The moment the thin rubber membrane covered her fingers, her entire aura changed.
The drowsy laziness from when she’d woken up was gone, leaving only calm efficiency.
Her mask covered most of her face, revealing only her eyes. At that moment, those eyes were clear and cold as a winter pool, fixed intently on the patient’s exposed lumbar interspace.
“Electrocautery.”
“Suction.”
“Size 5 laminar rongeur.”
Her voice came through the mask, precise, clear, and clipped.
The instrument nurse stood beside her; almost as soon as she reached out her hand, the correct tool was already in her palm.
Inside the operating room there were only the ticking of the monitors, the hiss of the cautery, and the occasional brief exchange of words.
Wen Yan bent over. Sweat dampened her bangs, fine beads sliding from her temples to the edge of her mask before the nurse wiped them away.
Two hours later, the first surgery was over.
She straightened up, and her cervical spine gave a faint crack.
The circulating nurse helped remove her sweat-soaked surgical cap and replaced it with a fresh one.
Wen Yan walked to the wall, picked up a bottle of mineral water, tipped her head back, and drank a few mouthfuls before finally catching her breath.
“Dr. Wen, operating room 9 is ready,” a nurse said, peeking in.
“On my way.” Wen Yan set down the bottle and put her gloves back on.
By the time the second surgery was over, it was already past one in the afternoon.
Wen Yan walked out of the operating room, feeling a little drained.
Standing for nearly five straight hours wasn’t enough to completely wear her down, but it was still too much.
She leaned against the corridor wall to recover for a moment, but then the head nurse’s voice came from nearby. “Dr. Wen!”
The head nurse waved her over, sounding resigned. “Your family’s here to see you. They’ve been waiting at the nurses’ station for ages.”
Wen Yan frowned, but still stood up and headed toward the nurses’ station.
As she got closer, she saw two figures beside the station from a distance, and her brow furrowed even more.
Wang Manyu was standing there with an Hermès Birkin slung over one arm, her chin lifted high in arrogant self-importance.
She was dressed in a Chanel tweed suit, a pearl necklace gleaming softly at her throat, her makeup immaculate to the last detail.
She looked like a wealthy lady who had wandered onto a battlefield; she was out of place in every possible way.
Beside her stood Zhang Yi, the cook who had worked for the Wen family for more than ten years.
Zhang Yi was carefully holding a huge thermos container. When she saw Wen Yan, she forced out a flattering smile, but her eyes still carried a trace of awkwardness.
Wang Manyu’s gaze was still sweeping disdainfully over the busy nurses at the station, looking down on them.
Only when she saw Wen Yan did she finally look away, clicking over in her high heels.
“You’re finally done?” She set the thermos down on the nurses’ counter with a dull thud.
Her tone wasn’t exactly gentle; instead, it held a hint of impatient condescension. “Your grandfather was thinking about you. He said you’re doing surgeries every day and it’s hard on you, and he was worried the hospital cafeteria wouldn’t have anything nutritious, so he specifically had me make soup for you at home.”
“I watched the heat myself all morning. Drink it while it’s hot.”
Wen Yan rubbed her throbbing temples.
She hadn’t been this tired originally, but now, after the back-to-back surgeries, fatigue surged over her like a tide. Coupled with the fact that she’d been fasting for so long, her stomach had started to turn sour.
So annoying.
She felt like throwing up.
Wen Yan sighed and forced herself to speak. “Mom, I still have three surgeries this afternoon. I need to go prep for them right away. I don’t have time to drink this. Let’s talk about it after I get off work tonight.”
“Hey, what’s with you?”
Wang Manyu immediately raised her voice, her brows shooting up, her red lips pressing into a thin, sharp line. “I got up at dawn to pick out the pig trotters myself, then had Zhang Yi keep watch over the stove for three hours, and I drove all the way here to bring it to you. You say you’re not drinking it, and that’s that?”
She reached out and lifted the lid of the thermos. A heavy, sweet, greasy smell instantly burst out.
“Come on, drink it now.”
“It won’t take more than a few minutes. Finish it, then go do your surgery.”
Wen Yan looked down at the soup.
A full thermos of pig trotter and peanut soup. The broth was murky, with a thick layer of golden oil floating on top.
The peanuts had been stewed to mush; the pig trotters were huge, and the greasy chunks floated up and down in the oily soup.
The cloying scent of fat mixed with meat rushed straight up her nose, especially harsh and pungent against the smell of disinfectant.
Wen Yan exercised regularly and ate light meals. Low oil and low salt had almost become instinct.
Her stomach was already used to the clean pairing of vegetables, grains, and quality protein. Suddenly smelling such a rich, heavy soup made her stomach churn instantly.
A wave of nausea surged up to her throat. She instinctively turned her face away, her fingertips tightening at her side, nails digging into her palm.
“Drink it already.” Wang Manyu was still pressing her, her righteous, I’m-doing-this-for-your-own-good attitude suffocating to the extreme. “This soup is the most nourishing. Pig trotters are good for collagen, peanuts replenish blood.”
“You’re on your feet in surgery all day. That uses up your qi and blood. Drink some and build yourself back up.”
She even picked up a spoon, scooped a heaping spoonful, and held it in front of Wen Yan’s face. “Be good. Don’t be ungrateful.”
Wen Yan stared at the spoonful of oily soup and felt another cramp of nausea. She closed her eyes, knowing she wouldn’t be able to leave today if she didn’t drink.
Taking the spoon, she ladled out half a bowl, held her breath, closed her eyes, and forced it down.
The thick, sweet grease slid over her tongue, cloying and bitter, and as it went down her throat it felt like a lump of sticky fat was lodging there.
She swallowed it down with great effort, and her stomach immediately started to roil. The nausea only got worse; even her face paled a little.
“That’s more like it.” Wang Manyu finally looked satisfied, her expression softening slightly. “Drink more. Finish this bowl...”
At that moment, a nurse from the operating rooms came running over, speaking rapidly. “Dr. Wen! The patient in operating room 2 is under anesthesia and ready to be taken in!”
Wen Yan felt as though she’d been granted pardon.
She immediately set down the bowl and spoon, took a tissue to wipe the corner of her mouth, and said shakily from the nausea, “Mom, I really have to go. The patient can’t wait.”
“Leave the soup here. I’ll drink it tonight.”
Before she’d even finished speaking, she had already turned and headed toward the changing room, walking so quickly it was as if a pack of evil spirits were chasing her.
The corridor breeze came through, and the greasy soup in her stomach was still churning. The nausea kept rising in waves.
Watching her disappear without a second glance, Wang Manyu stamped her foot in anger and called after her, “You child, how can you be so inconsiderate?”
“I worked so hard making that soup, and you only drank two mouthfuls?”
But Wen Yan had already pushed open the door to the changing room, and her figure vanished behind it.
Wang Manyu resentfully withdrew her gaze and turned to complain to Zhang Yi. “Look at her now. Her wings are stiff, and this is the attitude she has toward me.”
“I came all this way out of kindness to deliver soup, and she acts like I’m some plague spirit.”
Zhang Yi kept her head down and didn’t dare answer, only saying softly, “Madam, then this soup... ”
“Leave it here!” Wang Manyu snapped irritably, grabbing her bag and turning to leave. “She can drink it or not!”
——————
Maybe it really had been that greasy soup. Or maybe Wang Manyu’s rare show of concern had simply made Wen Yan react physically.
For the rest of the afternoon, Wen Yan kept forcing herself through it.
The oily discomfort in her stomach sat there like a wet wad of cotton, swelling and aching faintly, until even her lower abdomen felt heavy and painful.
But the patient on the operating table could not be left even slightly unattended. She could only grit her teeth and focus all her attention on the instruments in her hands.
The final surgery of the afternoon was for a comminuted wrist fracture.
The patient was a young man in his early twenties who had crashed his motorcycle. On the X-ray, the distal radius had shattered like broken porcelain.
Wen Yan needed to work under the microscope, piece by piece reducing the tiny fragments and fixing them with steel wire no thicker than a strand of hair.
Sweat kept seeping from her temples, and the circulating nurse wiped it away again and again.
The nausea in her stomach rose intermittently; she could only breathe deeply and force it back down.
Her back ached unbearably from maintaining a bent posture for so long, as if needles were pricking into it.
“Dr. Wen, you don’t look well,” her assistant whispered.
“I’m fine.” Wen Yan shook her head. Her voice, muffled by the mask, was a little dull. “Keep going. Be careful with that tendon.”
Four hours later, this meticulous surgery was finally over.
The instant she removed her mask, her face was as pale as paper, her lips bloodless, and all the hair at her forehead was soaked through with sweat, clinging to her cheeks in strands.
She leaned against the wall and walked out of the operating room, her legs so weak she could barely stand.
She made her way step by step into the changing room. When she changed into her own clothes, her fingers were trembling slightly.
At 8:20 p.m., Wen Yan finally dragged her exhausted, nearly broken body out of the hospital building.
It was fully dark. The city lights were coming on one after another. A night breeze swept past, carrying the chill of deep winter.
She unconsciously hugged her arms, and another wave of pain churned in her stomach, making her bend slightly.
The streetlights at the hospital entrance glowed a warm yellow, casting hazy circles of light on the ground.
A familiar black Rolls-Royce was parked steadily by the roadside. The window lowered, revealing Jin Zijin’s gentle brows and eyes.
The moment she saw Wen Yan’s condition, Jin Zijin immediately got out of the car.
She walked over quickly and, before Wen Yan could stagger, reached out to support her at the waist. The body under her fingertips was icy cold and trembling faintly.
Jin Zijin’s heart tightened. Her voice was thick with barely suppressed pain. “How did you get this tired? Are you feeling sick?”
She took Wen Yan’s bag from her shoulder and used her other arm to steady her waist, half-holding and half-supporting her into her embrace.
Wen Yan was almost entirely leaning against her, her head buried in the crook of her shoulder. Her voice was soft and hoarse. “Back-to-back surgeries... I stood for twelve hours...”
Jin Zijin immediately noticed something was wrong.
Wen Yan’s hand had been pressed against her lower abdomen the whole time, her brows tightly knit, her breathing lighter and shallower than usual.
“What’s wrong?” Jin Zijin helped her into the car and told the driver to turn the heat up. She then gently covered Wen Yan’s lower abdomen with her hand. “Does your stomach hurt?”
Wen Yan nodded, curling up in the seat like a wounded little animal.
She closed her eyes and answered in a very small voice, unable to hide her discomfort. “It’s bloated... nauseous... I feel like throwing up, but I can’t...”
“Was it because the food your aunt made at noon was too greasy?” Jin Zijin frowned, her palm moving in small, soothing circles over Wen Yan’s lower abdomen, trying to ease her discomfort. “I specifically told them to make it light. She steamed some Chinese yam and boiled some tiger shrimp... ”
“It wasn’t the aunt.” Wen Yan opened her eyes, moisture pooling there from the discomfort.
She looked at Jin Zijin, her voice tinged with a bit of grievance. “At noon... my mom came to the hospital and brought me pig trotter and peanut soup. It was really oily...”
“I forced down two mouthfuls, and then I kept feeling awful.”
She paused, then added, “My brother and I have never liked that since we were kids. We thought it was too greasy. She knew that.”
Jin Zijin’s hand on her lower abdomen stopped at once.
The next second, anger flared up.
Looking at Wen Yan’s pale face and the faint redness in her eyes from discomfort, that anger burned so hot it hurt.
“She came to deliver soup to you?” Jin Zijin’s voice turned cold, every word squeezed out through her teeth. “That was clearly poison.”
She increased the pressure of her kneading, speaking quickly and bitterly, anger evident in every syllable. “You already prefer light food. Even eating a little pig fat normally makes you uncomfortable. Drinking something this greasy, of course you’d feel sick!”
Jin Zijin was furious, and she couldn’t help cursing under her breath. “She knew you wouldn’t eat it and still brought it on purpose. What was she thinking?”
Wen Yan felt the warmth of her palm seep through her clothes, easing the bloating in her stomach a little.
She leaned closer into Jin Zijin’s embrace like a chick seeking shelter and said softly, “Half and half, maybe. Maybe she did it on purpose, or maybe she really thought it was nourishing.”
“Nourishing?” Jin Zijin laughed in exasperation, her tone icy with sarcasm. “If she really wanted to nourish you, why didn’t she ask what you wanted to eat, what you could eat?”
“Why not bring some light chicken soup, fish soup, or beef soup?”
“She brought you a bucket of pig fat. Is she trying to help you after all your work, or just make things worse?”
She lowered her head and looked at Wen Yan’s pale face, her tone hardening. “Wen Yan, listen to me. From now on, you are not allowed to touch anything she brings you, and you are not allowed to eat it. Do you hear me?”
“No matter what she says, no matter how she pressures you, I’ll block it for you.”
“You don’t need to drink it. You don’t need to endure it. You don’t need to ruin your body for something called ‘filial piety.’”
Wen Yan looked up at her.
Inside the dim car, only the flowing neon lights outside the window passed over Jin Zijin’s face.
That face, which usually always smiled gently at her, was now covered in frost. Yet the fire in her eyes blazed hot and bright, startlingly vivid.
It made Wen Yan think, inexplicably, of a dragon whose reverse scales had been touched.
So protective.
The part of Wen Yan’s heart that had gone cold from fatigue and discomfort suddenly warmed. Even the nausea in her stomach seemed to lessen a little.
Her lips curved. “I heard you.”
——————
The car drove steadily into the underground parking garage of their residential complex.
All the way, Jin Zijin kept her arm around Wen Yan’s waist, practically carrying her into the elevator and back to the duplex apartment.
The moment they got inside, she pressed Wen Yan down onto the wide sofa in the living room and wrapped her tightly in a soft wool blanket.
“Sit still.”
Jin Zijin turned to the kitchen and soon came back with a cup of warm lemon water.
A few fresh yellow lemon slices floated in the transparent glass, and a clean, refreshing sour fragrance drifted up.
“Drink it slowly; take small sips.”
Jin Zijin handed the cup to Wen Yan and sat down beside her, her hand returning to Wen Yan’s lower abdomen to continue the gentle massage. “Lemon water cuts the grease, and it can also ease your stomach a bit. If you’re still uncomfortable, we’ll go back to the hospital.”
Wen Yan held the warm cup and sipped carefully.
The faintly sour liquid slid down her throat, washing away the lingering greasy aftertaste. The churning in her stomach finally eased a little.
Just as she let out a breath of relief, her phone rang in her pocket.
The ringtone was especially piercing in the quiet living room. Wen Yan set down the cup, took out her phone, and looked at the screen.
The two characters “Dad” flashed on and off in the dim light.
She paused. Understanding flickered in her eyes. She didn’t need to think to know Wang Manyu had definitely gone back and complained with added embellishment.
Wen Yan was silent for two seconds, then pressed the speakerphone button and placed the phone on the coffee table.
The moment the call connected, Wen Xinjian’s angry rebuke came crashing over the line. “Wen Yan! How could you be so rude to your mother?”
“She got up early, worked hard to buy the ingredients at the market, stood over the stove to make soup for you, and brought it to the hospital herself. You didn’t even drink it properly, then turned around and left, ruining her good intentions.”
“Your mother came back and cried all night, saying you were cold to her and didn’t even say thank you!”
“You call her right now and apologize! How are you getting less and less sensible the older you get, with not a shred of filial piety? What have you been studying all these years... ”
Wen Xinjian ranted for a long stretch, his words rapid and furious, every bit of them high-handed accusation and reprimand.
He didn’t ask whether Wen Yan was tired. He didn’t ask why she hadn’t drunk the soup. He didn’t ask whether she might not have been feeling well.
Wen Yan held the cup and listened quietly.
The warm yellow light fell on her face, and that face remained calm and unreadable, with hardly any expression at all.
Only her fingertips unconsciously rubbed against the glass cup, once, then again.
She was far too familiar with scenes like this.
Ever since she was a child, whenever Wang Manyu felt wronged by her, Wen Xinjian’s reaction had always been the same: no matter who was right or wrong, he would first declare her guilty.
Your mother didn’t have it easy giving birth to you. Now that you’ve achieved a little something, you can’t look down on your mother or do anything that would let her down.
Wen Yan didn’t react much. Beside her, Jin Zijin was already furious enough to explode.
She had originally been massaging Wen Yan’s stomach, but now her hand stopped.
The woman’s beautiful face slowly darkened, the tenderness in her eyes replaced by a sheet of cold anger, as though frost had formed there.
She waited until Wen Xinjian had finished a stretch of scolding, and while he was catching his breath, she reached over and took the phone.
“Dad.”
Jin Zijin’s voice was not loud, but it was clear as a thin blade cutting through the air.
Her tone was sharp and unforgiving, with not a shred of courtesy left in it. “A person can’t be this biased.”
Wen Xinjian clearly hadn’t expected her to answer. He froze for a moment, then stammered, “Zi, Zijin...”
“Do you know what soup my mom brought Wen Yan today?” Jin Zijin cut him off, her speech even and slow, yet every word was barbed. “A whole thermos of pig trotter and peanut soup, cooked so greasy it was practically nauseating just to hear about it.”
She paused, her voice turning even colder. “Wen Yan has kept fit for years and eats light food with little oil; that’s something the whole family knows.”
“Her stomach can’t handle something this greasy. She drank two mouthfuls and got nauseous and sick, then forced herself through five surgeries all afternoon.”
The fire she’d been holding in all along now spilled out. She said the most exaggerated things she could think of. “She stood from 7:30 this morning until 8:00 tonight; thirteen hours straight, and she didn’t even get to properly drink a glass of water.”
“When she came out of surgery, her face was white as paper, and she could barely stand. I had to help her back from the hospital entrance.”
“Now she’s still lying on the sofa and can’t even move because she feels so awful.”
Jin Zijin’s voice rose as she went on the offensive. “And I haven’t even asked yet why, knowing full well Wen Yan doesn’t eat this kind of thing, she deliberately sent over such greasy soup to cause trouble.”
“You, on the other hand, came right out and scolded Wen Yan for being inconsiderate and unfilial?”
“She worked all day, endured feeling unwell, and finished every surgery without a single complaint. Then she gets home only to be treated like this?”
“On what basis are you saying that about her?”
Jin Zijin was truly enraged. She didn’t hesitate to expose them outright. “Have you ever cared about her? No, you haven’t! You don’t care about her at all; you only care that she won’t cooperate with your performance of a loving mother-daughter relationship.”
“Disgraceful old fools, making life miserable for the younger generation!”
Wen Xinjian on the other end of the line was completely silenced.
He stammered, unable to get out a complete sentence for a long while. “Th-this... Manyu was just being kind... She didn’t know Wen Yan couldn’t drink it... ”
“Didn’t know?” Jin Zijin laughed, and there was no warmth in that laugh at all. “Wen Yan and her brother have never eaten pig trotter soup since they were children because they thought it was too greasy. That’s something everyone in the Wen family knows.”
“As her mother, would she not know?”
Wen Xinjian had nothing to say on the other end.
Jin Zijin couldn’t be bothered to listen any longer and simply ended the call. She placed the phone back on the coffee table with a soft click.
The living room fell quiet.
Jin Zijin took a deep breath and turned back toward Wen Yan.
On the sofa, Wen Yan was looking at her with bright, clear eyes. Those usually gentle eyes were now shimmering with tiny bits of light, as if stars had fallen into them.
She just watched Jin Zijin quietly, the corners of her mouth curving little by little. “Wife, you’re amazing.”
As she said that, Wen Yan raised a thumb at her, admiration written all over her face. “You’re this.”
Good heavens. She’d only ever said things like that when complaining to her brother in private; she would never dare say them to that bizarre pair face-to-face.
As expected, her wife was the strongest.
Jin Zijin smiled, and the fire in her heart seemed to be doused by that smile, leaving only threads of tenderness behind.
She reached out and touched Wen Yan’s face. Her fingertips met skin that was still a little cool, but much better than before.
“Finish the water.” Jin Zijin’s voice softened, returning to its usual gentleness. “Ignore them. Rest well; I’ll handle this.”
After saying that, she picked up Wen Yan’s phone again, found Old Master Wang’s number, and called.
The phone rang five times before it was answered.
Old Master Wang’s pleasant voice came from the other end, deliberately close and affectionate. “Ah, Wen Yan, why are you calling Grandpa so late? What’s the matter?”
“Grandpa, it’s me, Zijin.”
Jin Zijin’s tone was calm, even polite, but every word was like a carefully sharpened ice spike, cold and keen. “I’m sorry to bother you this late.”
“But there’s something I think I have to tell you. Today my mother kindly sent Wen Yan soup, but it turned out to be a very greasy pig trotter soup.”
She paused, her voice taking on just the right amount of worry and reproach. “You know Wen Yan has a weak stomach.”
“After she drank it, her stomach became severely upset. She nearly threw up on the operating table this afternoon and forced herself through five surgeries. Now she’s home lying on the sofa, in so much pain she can’t move, and I massaged her stomach for half an hour without any relief.”
“I just called a doctor I know, and they said it’s very possibly an early sign of acute pancreatitis. We need to watch her closely; if it gets serious, she has to be sent to the hospital immediately.”
Old Master Wang was stunned for a moment.
“Pan... pancreatitis?” the old man said, his voice deliberately taking on a panicked note, even changing pitch. “How could this be... Why would Manyu... why would she send pig trotter soup? Wen Yan hasn’t eaten that since she was little!”
“Yes, I’m puzzled too.” Jin Zijin’s voice remained steady, but the pressure beneath that calm was even heavier. “Wen Yan’s body already can’t take much. She’s exhausted enough from surgery every day as it is. Now this has happened too... ”
She sighed, her disappointment and reproach unmistakable. “Grandpa, I know my mother meant well. But good intentions can still lead to bad results, and that can be even more troublesome.”
“I’ll take care of Wen Yan on my side, but please keep an eye on things too and advise my mother not to send anything randomly anymore. If she really wants to care about Wen Yan, she should ask more about what Wen Yan wants to eat and what she needs.”
Old Master Wang repeatedly agreed on the phone, his tone full of guilt and promises. “Yes, yes... Zijin, you’re right. I haven’t managed Manyu properly. I’ll have a good talk with her later!”
“And Wen Yan... how is she? Is she all right?”
“She’s still under observation,” Jin Zijin said lightly. “I hope she’s fine. If she really has to be hospitalized, she has a whole pile of surgery patients on her list, and her schedule will be completely thrown off. It’ll be hard to explain it to the hospital too.”
Old Master Wang became even more flustered, and there was another string of promises and apologies.
After hanging up, Jin Zijin’s expression remained unchanged. She then dialed Wang Jinyu’s number.
The same script, the same worried tone, the same implied pressure.
She repeated the story of Wang Manyu sending greasy soup and causing Wen Yan’s supposed “acute pancreatitis,” emphasizing that Wen Yan was “in too much pain to move,” “might need hospitalization,” and “her surgery schedule would be completely thrown into chaos.”
Wang Jinyu responded very cooperatively, promising again and again, “Don’t worry, Zijin. I’ll definitely talk to my sister.”
“She’s really lost her mind! Wen Yan is our family’s treasure. How could she torment her like this?”
After all the calls were done, Jin Zijin put down her phone and turned to look at Wen Yan.
Wen Yan had already finished the lemon water and was holding the cup, looking at her with sparkling eyes.
The admiration and joy in her gaze were almost overflowing, as if she were looking at a triumphant hero.
Jin Zijin was both amused and helpless.
She walked over, sat by the sofa, and pulled Wen Yan and the blanket both into her arms.
Jin Zijin rested her chin lightly on Wen Yan’s hair, breathing in the faint scent of disinfectant and lemon.
“It’s handled,” Jin Zijin said in a low voice, smiling. “From now on, no one will dare bully you like that again.”
Wen Yan didn’t say anything.
She just reached out, wrapped her arms around Jin Zijin’s waist, and buried her face in her embrace.
Through the thin wool sweater, she could hear Jin Zijin’s steady, powerful heartbeat, one beat after another, like the most reassuring drum.
After a while, Wen Yan lifted her head. Her eyes curved into crescents as she reached up to drape her arms around Jin Zijin’s neck and gently tugged.
Jin Zijin bent down on instinct.
Wen Yan kissed her lips.
Jin Zijin responded, one hand supporting the back of her neck as she deepened the kiss.
As their lips and teeth tangled, all the fatigue, all the grievance, all the discomfort seemed to melt away and disappear like snow under sunlight.
After a long time, the two finally parted.
Their foreheads rested together; their breaths mingled.
Wen Yan’s eyes were wet, like amber washed in water, bright to an almost startling degree.
“Jin Zijin,” she called softly, her voice as sweet as melted honey.
“Mm?”
“Thank you.”
Jin Zijin smiled.
She lowered her head and pecked her on the lips again before saying, “Silly girl. Why are you thanking me?”
She pulled Wen Yan back into her arms, and the two of them remained curled together on the sofa. Wen Yan held the cup and took a few sips now and then. After hesitating for a long time, she finally said, “Zijin, do you think I’m too weak?”
Jin Zijin was still rubbing her stomach. She glanced at her and said calmly, “No.”
“Everyone has things they’re good at and things they’re not good at.”
“They’re your parents. You can’t say they’re abusing you, because it hasn’t reached that exaggerated level. But if you ask whether they love you very much... it doesn’t really show.”
“They’re just ordinary people. But because they’re your parents, that title makes things hard for you to judge objectively.”
At this, Wen Yan nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right.”
Jin Zijin smiled and continued, “A lot of things are like that. Once blood ties are involved, once family feelings are involved, they become harder to handle.”
As she spoke, she looked at Wen Yan and smiled, kneading her stomach a little. “For example, Grandma; when it comes to Great Aunt’s matters, she’s just as indecisive as you are.”
“Otherwise there wouldn’t be that saying: even relatives become distant when the Dao comes first.”
“You still have plenty to work on here.”
Jin Zijin tapped Wen Yan’s forehead, a little smugly. “But if you’re not good at it, that’s fine. I am.”
“I might as well have a chance to show off. From now on, leave all these people to me. I guarantee they won’t bother you again.”
Wen Yan smiled faintly and answered, “Okay.”
————
Meanwhile, in the master bedroom of the Wen family villa.
Wang Manyu was sitting on the soft bed, two silk pillows propped behind her back.
She had just removed her makeup and was bare-faced. She had even applied a hot towel to her eyes on purpose, so at that moment both the corners of her eyes and the tip of her nose were red, making her look haggard and pitiful.
A crumpled tissue was clenched in her hand; every so often she dabbed at the corners of her eyes, putting on a full display of grievance.
She picked up her phone, found Old Master Wang on WeChat, and started a video call.
The ringtone rang seven or eight times before it was answered.
The screen lit up. Old Master Wang sat in a carved armchair wearing a dark blue set of loungewear, a book still in his hand, clearly having been interrupted mid-read.
“Manyu, it’s so late. What’s the matter?” the old man’s voice came through the speaker, carrying annoyance at being disturbed.
The instant Wang Manyu heard her father’s voice, her eyes immediately reddened further.
She sniffled, her voice trembling with deliberately suppressed crying. “Dad... you have to stand up for me...”
As she spoke, tears began to roll down her face, sliding over her cheeks and dripping onto the collar of her sleepwear.
The tears fell at just the right rate; they looked real without ruining the fragile image she’d carefully built.
“Today... today I listened to you and kindly went to deliver soup to Wen Yan.”
Wang Manyu’s voice grew more and more choked, as if she had suffered some terrible wrong. “I went to the market early in the morning and chose the freshest pig trotters, and had Zhang Yi stew them for three hours.”
“I was thinking she works so hard at surgery, and she needs nourishment...”
She paused, took a tissue, and pressed at the corner of her eye before continuing, “And do you know what happened? When I brought it to the hospital, she didn’t even give me a pleasant expression.”
“I stood at the nurses’ station, and those little nurses were sneaking looks at me... Dad, where am I supposed to put my face?”
Her voice rose a little, filled with accusation. “I said, ‘Wen Yan, Mom specially made this for you, drink it while it’s hot,’ and she just frowned and said she had surgery soon and no time.”
“I talked and talked, and only then did she reluctantly drink two mouthfuls.”
“Really, just two mouthfuls! Then she acted like she was avoiding something terrible and turned right around and left without looking back.”
The more Wang Manyu spoke, the more agitated she became. Her tears flowed harder, and her voice brimmed with heartbreak. “I’m her biological mother! I worked so hard to make soup and bring it over, and she treated me like this?”
“What sin did I commit, to give birth to such an ungrateful daughter... Now that her wings are hard, there’s no room for me, her mother, in her eyes at all!”
She cried with such sincerity, her shoulders shaking as she addressed the phone screen through tears. “Dad, tell me, what’s the point of me still living? If my own daughter treats me like this, I might as well be dead...”
On the video call, Old Master Wang hadn’t said a word.
He simply stared at the screen. His expression shifted slowly from initial annoyance to sternness, and then finally settled into a layer of cold anger.
His weathered eyes seemed to see through every bit of Wang Manyu’s performance.
When Wang Manyu finally finished complaining and waited, sniffling, for her father to comfort her, Old Master Wang spoke in a deep voice. “Are you done?”
Wang Manyu froze, lifting her tearful eyes toward the screen; her father’s expression made her heart suddenly lurch.
“Dad... you, you...”
“I asked if you were done.” Old Master Wang cut her off, his voice even colder.
“...Done,” Wang Manyu said instinctively, shrinking her shoulders.
Then she heard her father take a deep breath, and the next second, a fierce shout exploded out. “Wang Manyu!”
Even through the screen and speaker, it shook her so hard she nearly dropped the phone onto the bed.
In the screen, Old Master Wang straightened abruptly. The usually kind face was now dark with fury.
He stared at the screen, eyes wide, his chest rising and falling violently, the book in his hand long since tossed aside. “Have you lost your mind, huh?”
Each word fell like hailstones; cold and heavy.
Wang Manyu was completely stunned.
She stared blankly at her father’s enraged face on the screen, her mouth open, tears still hanging on her cheeks, her mind a complete blank.
She had made this video call to complain, to have her father comfort her, and by the way to denounce Wen Yan for being ungrateful.
How... how had it turned into this?
“What soup did you send Wen Yan? Pig trotter soup? Cooked so oily?”
Old Master Wang’s voice was urgent and furious, his speech fast as a machine gun. “Didn’t you know she hasn’t eaten that since she was a child? She and her brother both thought it was too greasy; they wouldn’t touch it!”
“Didn’t you know she has a weak stomach? Didn’t you know she stands at the operating table every day, under mental strain, and has to eat light food?”
A string of questions slammed down on her head.
Wang Manyu subconsciously tried to defend herself, panic creeping into her voice. “I-I was being kind, Dad! That soup is the most nourishing. I thought she was tired and needed to replenish her blood and qi...”
“Kind? You’re a stupid pig!”
Old Master Wang was so angry his hands were shaking. He pointed at the screen like he wanted to stab her through it. “People can tell at a glance that all you care about is putting on a show of being a loving mother! You fool!”
“Dad! How can you say that about me?” Wang Manyu panicked too, grievance surging up in her voice along with tears. “I’m her mother. What’s wrong with me sending her soup?”
“You’re just an idiot!” Old Master Wang showed no mercy. “Do you know who called me just now? Zijin!”
He paused and bit out each word with great force. “She came to my door herself and complained to me that you, her mother, were mistreating the child!”
“She said Wen Yan drank your soup and nearly had acute pancreatitis!”
“She almost threw up on the operating table this afternoon, forced herself through five surgeries, and stood for thirteen hours.”
“Now she’s home lying in bed, hurting so badly she can’t move, and Zijin said she may have to be sent to the hospital!”
Wang Manyu’s face went white all at once.
Her lips trembled as she stammered, “H-how could that be... It was only two mouthfuls of soup... She... was she faking it...”
“Faking it? What would she fake with? Her life?”
Old Master Wang was so angry his voice changed. “Wen Yan is a doctor. Doesn’t she know how serious pancreatitis is? Why would she need to fake illness to trick you?”
“Wang Manyu, use that pig brain of yours!”
At that moment, Wang Jinyu’s panicked voice came from outside the video frame. “Dad, calm down, calm down...”
Then Wang Jinyu’s face squeezed into the screen as well.
He had clearly just arrived in the study; his face was full of alarm as he kept signaling Wang Manyu with his eyes, his mouth forming the words: Sis, stop talking.
But Wang Manyu had already lost her composure, and in her panic and grievance blurted out, “I-I didn’t know it would be like this... I just wanted to nourish her...”
“You stupid bastard!” Old Master Wang sneered, and there wasn’t the slightest warmth in that laugh. “Pigs are smarter than you!”
“I told you to care about her so you could win her over, get her to side a little more with our family, not so you could boss her around and torment her the way you always did before!”
The angrier he got, the louder his voice became. “I’m telling you, Wang Manyu, Wen Yan is no longer the little girl you can casually manipulate. She’s Jin Zijin’s legally married wife, and the other half-owner of Hengxing Group.”
“Today’s stunt didn’t just offend Wen Yan; it also offended Zijin to the core.”
Old Master Wang panted for a breath and fixed his daughter’s deathly pale face on the screen. “How many of our projects now depend on Hengxing? How much business is waiting on Zijin’s nod?”
“And you? I told you to coax the child, and you managed to offend her completely. Are you trying to make the Wang family drink northwest wind in the future?”
That last sentence struck Wang Manyu like a hammer blow.
She finally panicked completely.
“Dad, I... I didn’t mean it...” Her voice softened, full of pleading. “Is Zijin really that angry?”
“What do you think?” Old Master Wang said coldly. “She called me personally and spoke so politely it was terrifying, saying, ‘Please keep an eye on things and don’t let my mother send things randomly anymore.’”
“I’m giving you a warning today. From now on, stay away from Wen Yan and don’t go poking your nose into her business anymore. You’ve already annoyed her enough.”
On the other end of the video, Wang Jinyu hurriedly chimed in too. “Yeah, Sis, you were really too foolish this time.”
“They just got married, and Zijin dotes on her like crazy. How could she not be mad if you treat her like that?”
“I know you’re biased. You think Wen Yan is just some girl you don’t like, and you don’t want to be nice to her, but even pretending was nonexistent for you...”
Wang Manyu was cursed out by her father and younger brother through the screen, her grievance, panic, and fear finally boiling over.
With a sudden wail, she burst into loud tears at the phone.
She slapped the bed, crying so hard she nearly lost her voice. “Why is my life so miserable! I gave birth to a daughter who doesn’t care about me at all, and now I’m the one being blamed for not loving her enough.”
“She’s nothing but a debt collector! If I’d known that when she was born, I should’ve strangled her then and there!”
“Shut up!”
Old Master Wang barked from the screen.
The old man’s face flushed red with anger, his finger pointing at the screen as his whole body trembled. “How dare you say something like that? Strangled her? That’s your own daughter! How can you spit out such filthy words?”
Wang Manyu was so shouted at that her sobs caught in her throat, coming out in broken spasms.
Wen Xinjian didn’t know when he had entered the bedroom.
He stood by the bed, looking at his wife crying into a mess on the phone, at the furious face of his father-in-law on the screen, and at his brother-in-law’s anxious expression, and only felt a deep, bone-weary helplessness.
He sighed, his voice tired enough to sound ten years older. “Manyu, stop making a scene.”
He walked over, took the phone from her hand, and spoke to Old Master Wang on the screen, his tone full of helplessness. “Dad, calm down. Manyu... she just lost her head for a moment.”
Old Master Wang let out a long breath and said impatiently, “Fine, fine. Control your wife. Don’t let this happen again.”
The video call ended. Wen Xinjian turned to Wang Manyu and said softly, “Wen Yan really is different now.”
“She’s capable, she has status, and Zijin is protecting her. You should... be nicer to her in the future. Don’t keep using the old methods.”
Wang Manyu looked up. Her eyes were swollen red, her hair was in disarray, and the makeup on her face had long since smeared.
She stared at the husband she had never truly liked but had had no choice but to marry, and suddenly erupted into a distorted scream. “Am I not nice enough to her?”
“I let her be born as the younger sister, with a brother to dote on her!”
“I paid for her education and bought her a house. I’ve treated her absolutely fairly!”
“Now that she’s successful, she’s turned the whole family against me and says I’ve been bad to her?”
“Why? Why!”
She snatched up the pillow on the bed and hurled it viciously to the floor, her face twisted in rage. “She’ll get what’s coming to her!”
“I’ll just wait until Jin Zijin gets tired of her and doesn’t want her anymore. Then I’ll see what she’s so proud of!”
“By then, even if she comes crying back to beg me, I won’t acknowledge her. I’ll make her kneel and apologize to me!”
TL Note:
"even relatives become distant when the Dao comes first" (六亲是道场) = family ties are treated as a spiritual test or trial.
"drink northwest wind" (喝西北风) = go hungry / have nothing to eat.
"her wings are stiff" (翅膀硬了) = she’s grown independent and hard to control.