Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The next day, I trended on the local social media charts.

It wasn’t a major headline, but it was disgusting enough.

“Old Flame Crashes Lu-Song Engagement Banquet.”

The accompanying photo captured the exact moment I splashed wine on my aunt. The angle was incredibly sharp. It didn’t show her forcing me to give a toast, nor did it show Lu Chenzhou losing his composure. It only showed me in a server’s uniform, expressionless as I threw the wine.

The comments section was a unified front of vitriol.

“She must be desperate for money.”

“Crashing an ex’s engagement is just pathetic.”

“I heard she tried to marry into wealth before but failed.”

“Women like this should be blacklisted. Don’t let her work in the hospitality industry ever again.”

I stared at the screen for ten minutes before turning my phone off.

My younger brother, Wen Ning, sat on the hospital bed, watching me cautiously.

“Sis, am I a burden to you?”

I sliced an apple into small pieces and handed them to him.

“Stop being so dramatic.”

He didn’t smile. At seventeen, he was so thin he looked like a ruler that was about to snap. The surgery four years ago had saved his life, but it hadn’t made him completely well. Over the past few years, he had been hospitalized repeatedly while I worked myself to the bone to make money.

I served tables, tutored, wrote copy, and stood in line for people at the hospital to get registration numbers. I did everything. I wasn’t afraid of hardship. I was only afraid of the day someone would tell me that Wen Ning wouldn’t make it to his next treatment.

Then, at noon, the attending physician called me out.

He said, “Miss Wen, the specialist consultation we arranged earlier might have to be postponed.”

My heart sank. “Why?”

The doctor avoided my eyes. “There’s a temporary scheduling conflict on their end.”

“Postponed until when?”

“It’s hard to say.”

Hard to say.

I had heard those three words four years ago. Back then, the Lu family had said the same thing.

Wen Ning’s surgery schedule was “hard to say.”

The specialists’ availability was “hard to say.”

The risks of his condition were “hard to say.”

It wasn’t until I left Lu Chenzhou that everything suddenly became easy to say.

I stood in the hallway, my hands and feet turning cold. My phone rang. It was an unknown number. I answered it.

A woman’s voice came through, steady and calm.

“Wen Qiao, this is Song Mingzhu.”

I didn’t say anything.

She continued, “Your brother’s consultation has been blocked, hasn’t it?”

My fingers tightened around the phone. “Miss Song, news travels fast.”

“I didn’t do it.” She paused. “But I know who did.”

I looked toward the end of the corridor. The sunlight streaming in was white and blindingly bright.

I asked, “What do you want?”

Song Mingzhu gave a soft laugh.

“I like talking to smart people. Tonight at eight, South Bank Coffee. Come, and I’ll tell you why you were really forced away four years ago.”