Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The night my dad got into the car accident, I was standing in the emergency lobby.

I was clutching a payment slip in my hand, the numbers on it so large they made my scalp go numb.

The balance in my bank account wasn’t even enough to cover the change.

At one in the morning, my mom had answered the phone in the kitchen.

Her entire body had gone limp instantly.

She gripped my arm, trembling so hard she couldn’t even get out a full sentence.

By the time we rushed to First City Hospital, the lights in the emergency room were a blinding, clinical white.

A nurse shoved a form into my hand, saying the doctor was already preparing for surgery and that I needed to pay the deposit first.

When I saw the figure, my head throbbed.

I maxed out every credit card I could, but I was still a long way off.

A few relatives who usually said “call me if you need anything” either didn’t pick up or made excuses about not being able to transfer large sums in the middle of the night.

My mom stood beside me, her voice so thin it was almost non-existent.

“Maybe… should we call Xu Yan?”

I snapped my head up.

The day we broke up two years ago, Xu Yan had stood in the rain, looking at me.

She had only said one thing: “Shen Zhiwei, love can’t solve your current problems.”

After that, I deleted all our chat records, but I never deleted her number.

I stared at the name at the very bottom of my contacts, my finger hovering over the call button, unable to press it.

Just then, someone called out to me from the payment window.

“Family of Mr. Shen? The surgical deposit has been paid. Go to window three to sign.”

I froze. I turned around and saw Xu Yan.

She was followed by an assistant. There were still water droplets on the shoulders of her coat, as if she had rushed all the way here through the rain.

She walked up to me and handed me the receipt without explaining a thing.

“Go sign first.” She stared at me, her voice cold. “Don’t try to talk to me about your pride this time.”

I almost slapped her.

But when I looked down at the numbers on the slip, my hands still shook.

Because I knew that without this money, my dad might not make it off the operating table tonight.

I turned to look at my mom, but she didn’t even dare to meet my eyes.

“Auntie called me.” Xu Yan spoke up before I could ask, as if she had seen right through me.

Something flared up in my chest-humiliation, shame, and anger all tangled together.

“I didn’t ask you to come.”

“And I didn’t come here to ask for your permission.”

She glanced up at the red light of the operating room.

“Shen Zhiwei, your father is still in there.”

She paused, her voice growing even colder.

“Don’t try to talk to me about your pride this time.”

She had me cornered; I couldn’t say a word. I could only take the slip and go sign.

The surgery lasted four hours that night.

My mom fainted from crying halfway through. It was Xu Yan who sent her assistant to buy hot water and sugar, and borrowed a blanket to wrap around her.

She herself stood at the end of the hallway the entire time, as quiet as if she were neither family nor a stranger.

But the more she acted like this, the more humiliated I felt.

It was as if even the right to break down had been taken over by her.

At five in the morning, the doctor came out and said his life was saved, but he would need to be moved to the ICU for observation.

My mom’s legs gave out, and she nearly knelt before the doctor.

I caught her, and as I looked up, I happened to lock eyes with Xu Yan.

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, as if she had finally caught her breath.

“I’ve already asked about the ICU visiting hours. You can go in at ten tomorrow morning.”

She glanced at my mom and added, “Auntie should go home and rest first. I’ll have my driver take her.”

I stared at her, suddenly finding the sight of her unbearable.

“Xu Yan, who gave you the right to arrange all this?”

She was silent for two seconds before speaking calmly.

“No one did.”

“Then what gives you the right?”

“The fact that you have no other choice right now.”

I knew she wasn’t wrong.

And because she wasn’t wrong, even my attempt to argue felt pathetic.