Volume 1, Chapter 14: Hospital Transfer

Just as Lin Xi was about to pull off Dong Qianqian's cotton shoes to hand her over to Dong Jianbei, an incredulous voice rang out from the crowd.

"Xiao Bei, Third Sister-in-law, what are you doing here?" The man was Dong Ercheng, who had just emerged victorious from a heated argument with a young nurse in front of the hospital director. He had been on his way to finalize the hospitalization paperwork when he stumbled upon this scene.

"No! Don't go to Grandpa and Grandma! Find Sister!" Three-year-old Dong Jianbei, his small hands stubbornly clutching the tips of Dong Qianqian's shoes, refused to let go. He was determined to board the ambulance. Though he was young and his speech was slurred, his intention was clear: he was going to stay with his unconscious sister, not go looking for their parents.

Dong Jianbei’s face turned beet red as he held his breath, his small legs kicking hard against the large hands trying to pry him away from his sister. Seeing Lin Xi struggling to pull the toddler away, Dong Ercheng grew angry. He had no time to spare for the nurse now; he rushed forward and snatched Xiao Bei away.

Only then did he realize that the person on the stretcher was his eldest daughter, Dong Qianqian.

She lay motionless on the ambulance gurney, her eyes tightly shut, her face as pale as parchment, as if she were completely severed from the world around her. The surrounding cacophony—Xiao Bei’s wailing, the apologies of his sister-in-law—failed to disturb her slumber. She looked like a fragile porcelain doll forgotten in the chaos, the spark of life within her appearing increasingly faint. How could she have been perfectly fine the night before, only to be lying here today?

Dong Qianqian’s escape plan had been thwarted repeatedly. Ignoring the aftermath of the silver needles used to pierce her acupoints, she took advantage of her wide sleeves to silently insert another needle into a meridian. A mouthful of black blood surged up her throat and spilled out, and with that, she closed her eyes and lapsed into unconsciousness once more.

Before Dong Ercheng could process the sight of the blood on the ground, Dr. Sun pulled him onto the ambulance. "Drive faster! We can’t wait any longer! Time is life. Since you're family, get on board!"

The journey was silent, save for Dr. Sun’s repeated attempts to revive Dong Qianqian with his mediocre acupuncture skills. Watching the silver needles bristling from his daughter’s head and the tense, silent expressions of the medical staff, Dong Ercheng felt a storm of questions brewing. What had happened? What illness did his daughter have? Why was Xiao Bei crying so hard? And why wasn't his youngest daughter here? Yet, he knew now was not the time to lash out.

When they finally arrived at the general hospital and the staff from the maternal and child health center handed over the records, Dong Ercheng paced outside the emergency room, clutching a crying, exhausted Dong Jianbei. Lin Xi sat on a nearby chair, restless and anxious.

When the red light above the operating room finally dimmed, a doctor stepped out and asked, "Who is the family member?"

"I am!" Dong Ercheng replied, holding Dong Jianbei. "Doctor, how is my daughter?"

"Her condition has stabilized and she can be moved to a general ward. However, she needs to remain hospitalized for observation. It appears to be a case of congenital asthma. Is there a history of this in your family?"

As an ER doctor, Dr. Chen was accustomed to receiving patients from other hospitals, but this case was truly peculiar. The patient had been half-dead upon arrival, only to wake up on her own as soon as she entered the operating room. Her heart rate and blood pressure were normal, suggesting it was merely an acute asthma attack causing temporary shock.

"Her mother’s side has it, though it’s mild. It usually doesn't flare up unless she's exposed to pollen," Dong Ercheng replied. He thought back to his own family—eight generations of tenant farmers. If they had bad health, they couldn't have farmed the land. There was no such thing as hereditary disease there. It was only on Zhao Yunlei’s side that there were always coughs; he had always assumed it was a "rich person's illness," as common as a smoker’s cough. When he married her, the Zhao family’s dowry had been filled with herbs like dried tangerine peel, lily bulb, salvia, fritillaria, fish maw, and dried crocodile. Before the turmoil began, doctors would visit Zhao Yunlei daily to brew various medicinal soups, boiling bowl after bowl from dawn till dusk. The entire courtyard would be thick with the bitter scent of herbs, punctuated by the rhythmic sound of her struggling for breath. Only later did he realize it was asthma, though he never understood the true severity of it.

"This condition has been notoriously difficult to treat since ancient times and requires meticulous care," the doctor continued. "The patient must take her medicine on schedule every morning, noon, and night—not a single dose can be missed. Especially during the seasonal transitions of spring and autumn, you must be extremely cautious to prevent infection; the consequences could be dire otherwise. Furthermore, you must always monitor her emotional state; keeping her happy is crucial. Since you have experience caring for patients, I won't belabor the point. Just remember to pay the hospital fees."

Dr. Chen finished with a fake smile and patted Dong Ercheng’s shoulder, noting the high-quality wool of his coat and thinking to himself that this family likely had money to spare. He’d make sure the pharmacy included more expensive ingredients; after all, it was almost the New Year and the hospital hadn't issued their bonuses yet. Was that fair?

After Dr. Chen left, the group saw Dong Qianqian being wheeled out by a nurse, feigning a slow return to consciousness. She stared at Dong Ercheng with eyes that seemed incapable of blinking, as if seeing him for the first time.

Dong Ercheng’s desire to be a doting father welled up within him. He remembered when this child was born, staring at him with those same large eyes. He recalled her crawling, her gummy smiles as she grew teeth, her first time saying "Daddy," and how she would run to him when she lost a fight. She had always insisted he sit in the front row at parent-teacher meetings, refused to move when she saw something delicious, and would throw tantrums if she saw others with hair accessories or clothes she wanted. When had this daughter, who had grown up on his shoulders, become so like a stranger?

He noticed the bright red blood on the corner of Dong Qianqian’s mouth and reached out to wipe it away, but she subtly dodged his touch. Looking at her perfect face—a combination of the best features of both himself and Zhao Yunlei—and pitying her for the severe illness she had inherited, he assumed she was just being temperamental and didn't hold it against her.

He whispered softly, "It’s alright, my dear daughter! Don't listen to the doctor's nonsense. Your father has plenty of money. We will treat this illness properly. Do you remember the Zhao family mansion? That’s your maternal family! Many of them have this illness too, and they are all fine. You will be fine as well."

Dong Qianqian looked expressionlessly at the father who, in the original owner's memories, had been utterly indifferent. She was confused by his sudden display of sentimentality and wondered what he was playing at.