Chapter 7

Chapter 7

On the day before the press conference, Wen Ning’s consultations were suddenly reinstated.

The doctor said that the higher-ups had re-coordinated the resources.

I knew it was Lu Chenzhou.

He didn’t call me, nor did he try to claim credit.

He simply had his assistant deliver a new medical schedule.

All the expenses had already been prepaid.

I returned the documents.

The assistant stood at the ward door, looking troubled.

“Miss Wen, President Lu said you don’t need to feel burdened.”

I said, “Tell him I’ll pay him back.”

“President Lu said there’s no need to pay him back.”

“Then tell him this.”

I looked up.

“I’m not the same Wen Qiao from four years ago who could only take a check and leave.”

The assistant froze.

Eventually, he left with the documents.

Wen Ning looked at me.

“Sis, do you still like him?”

I was pouring him some water.

A little spilled.

“Don’t worry about it, kid.”

“I’m seventeen.”

“Even at seventeen, shut up.”

He chuckled briefly, then quickly pulled it back.

“Actually, I remember him.”

My hand paused.

Wen Ning said softly, “He used to come see me and bring me puzzles. When you weren’t around, he asked me if I wanted a brother-in-law.”

I turned and glared at him.

“You were only thirteen then. What did you know?”

“I knew you were very happy.”

The ward fell silent.

Wen Ning gazed out the window.

“Sis, I don’t want to be your Achilles’ heel anymore.”

My throat felt as if it were blocked.

He said, “If they use me to threaten you again, don’t be afraid.”

I walked over and ruffled his hair.

“What nonsense are you talking about?”

“It’s not nonsense.”

He looked up at me, his eyes bright.

“I just want you to win for once.”

At that moment, I suddenly felt like crying.

It wasn’t because of any grievance.

It was because all these years, I had always thought I was falling.

But as it turned out, the person I was desperately trying to protect was also desperately trying to hold me up.

My phone vibrated.

Song Qiming’s secretary sent a message.

“Miss Wen, tomorrow morning at ten o’clock, meet me backstage at the press conference.”

Immediately following that was a photo.

It was the first page of Wen Ning’s medical records.

The threat was cliché.

It was also very effective.

I stared at that photo for a long time.

Then, I replied with a single word.

“Okay.”