Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I had just stepped down from the wedding altar, and before I even had a chance to change out of my gown, a text from the hospital popped up: “Mr. Xu Jianguo’s surgery scheduled for tomorrow morning has been postponed. Please wait for further notice regarding the specific time.”

I stared at the line of text, the color draining from my fingers instantly. The crowd was still clamoring behind me, and trending topics continued to jump to the top of the charts. The screen was filled with headlines like “Bride Strikes Back” and “Wealthy Family’s Marriage Fraud,” but all I could see were the words “postponed,” twisting into me like a knife.

The fire exit door was pushed open. Lu Jingchuan stood under the red emergency light, his tie askew, yet his gaze was steadier than before.

“Did you see the notification?” He let out a short laugh. “Once you’ve had enough of your little scene, delete the livestream and make a public statement saying the video was edited. Your father’s surgery can still happen tomorrow.”

“You dare touch him-”

“I already have.” He took a step forward, his voice dropped low. “Nianhe, I’ve always known what you fear most. You can hate me, but your father can’t afford to wait.”

My throat tightened, and the fire that had sustained me through the wedding was instantly extinguished into white smoke. Right then, my mother called. The moment she spoke, she was already sobbing: “Come to the hospital right now! The doctor said there’s a change in the schedule. Did you go and provoke Jingchuan again?”

She didn’t even ask, “Are you okay?”

By the time I rushed to the hospital, the hallways were thick with the smell of disinfectant. My mother was sitting on a bench, her hair disheveled. Seeing me, she rushed over and grabbed my arm.

“Go apologize! Go right now! You can’t use your father’s life to throw a tantrum!”

“He’s the one using the surgery to threaten me.”

“Then just bow your head first! Couldn’t you have waited until after the wedding? Do you really have to tear this family apart before you’re satisfied?”

Her fingernails dug into my flesh. I felt a numbing pain, but I didn’t pull away. For over twenty years, this was how she had dragged me along: endure first, stay steady first, maintain appearances first. But this time, the price was sending my entire self into a cage.

“Mom,” I pried her hand away bit by bit, “I wasn’t the one who borrowed that three million.”

Her eyes flickered away, avoiding my gaze. She didn’t respond.

My heart sank abruptly. “You knew?”

She turned her face away, her voice weak and hollow. “I… I signed a supplemental agreement. Jingchuan said it was just a guarantee to cover your father’s financial hole first. He said we’d be one family after the wedding, with no distinctions between us.”

I stood frozen as a buzzing sound filled my ears. It turned out that the rope tightening around my neck wasn’t just being pulled by Lu Jingchuan; my mother had tied the knot herself.

The ward door opened a crack, and a nurse told us to keep it down. I walked in to find my father intubated. His face was ashen, and his eyelids looked heavy. Hearing the movement, he still managed to slowly open his eyes to look at me.

“The… wedding?” His voice sounded like sandpaper.

I shook my head, my nose stinging with tears.

He took a couple of breaths, his hand fumbling outside the blanket. I quickly grasped it; his palm was covered in cold sweat.

“Don’t… beg them… for me.” Each word was faint, yet they struck my heart with agonizing weight. “Sell the house… don’t marry him.”

My mother burst into tears at the door. “What’s the use of saying this now! She’s just a girl, how is she supposed to carry all this?”

My father closed his eyes and didn’t speak again, his fingers merely tightening very slowly. That tiny bit of strength carried more weight than any advice.

I stayed in the ward until the middle of the night. Lu Jingchuan’s calls came one after another, until he finally sent a voice message.

“You have six hours left. If you don’t post a clarification by 9:00 AM tomorrow, I’ll show you what the real price looks like. Also, I’ve already prepared the supply chain contracts for your family’s company.”

Immediately following that, a legal letter landed in my inbox: defamation of reputation, commercial libel, and an application for asset preservation. Every single point clawed at my company and my father’s medical expenses.
I leaned against the hallway wall, shivering from the cold. It wasn’t the fear of losing that shook me, but the fear of reverting to my former self-the one who only knew how to justify her actions and beg for peace. The moment I said “I’m sorry,” they would give me a single breath of relief, only to sharpen their knives even faster.

At two in the morning, Cheng Xubai arrived, the chill of the night air still clinging to his black overcoat. He handed me a cup of warm water. He didn’t ask “What’s wrong?” but instead glanced at the lawyer’s letter on my phone.

“The Lu Group is already processing the paperwork. They’ll likely freeze a portion of your company’s receivables before ten tomorrow morning,” he said, his tone as flat as if he were reading off a contract. “But your father can be transferred. I’ve already negotiated the guarantee and the bed on my end.”

I stared at him. “You prepared for this long ago?”

“Yes.” He didn’t avoid my gaze. “I figured you’d be pushed to this point.”

His words made me instinctively bristle. “So you’re making decisions for me too?”

He fell silent for two seconds, his voice dropping lower. “I’m giving you an extra choice, not making the decision for you.”

The lights at the end of the hallway flickered. I suddenly felt exhausted-so tired that I couldn’t even muster any anger. But the string in my heart hadn’t snapped. I knew that every second was a fork in the road: take a step back and continue being the daughter and fiancée in their script, or take a step forward and potentially lose the only home I had left.

My mother stepped out of the hospital room. When she saw Cheng Xubai, her expression instantly soured.

“You again? You’re the one who instigated her to turn the wedding into such a mess!”

Cheng Xubai didn’t take the bait. He simply placed a transfer document in front of her. “Auntie, sign this and we can use the priority channel.”

She didn’t even look at it, slapping the paper aside. “I don’t trust you people! Nianhe, come back with me. Call Jingchuan right now, apologize, and delete the video. As long as the wedding can still happen, everything can be put behind us.”

“It can’t be put behind us.” My voice sounded hoarse, yet steady. “I am not a bargaining chip for you to trade for your dignity.”

She froze, tears beginning to fall. “I’m your mother!”

“You are my mother, and that’s why I suppressed myself over and over again.” I looked at her, feeling as if my chest were being torn open. “But you’ve never loved me. You love the ‘version of me’ that society expects to see.”

She raised her hand to strike me, but it stopped mid-air. Finally, she slapped her own leg, sobbing until she couldn’t catch her breath.

There was no victory in this moment, only collapse. Family, feelings, and reputation-everything lay shattered in that same hallway.

Cheng Xubai bent down to pick up the scattered documents. He pulled a USB drive from his briefcase and handed it to me.

“Inside are Lu Jingchuan’s linked account books from the past three years, as well as a recording.” He looked at me. “The recording contains your mother’s conversation with the Lu Family lawyer regarding the supplemental agreement. Once you submit this, the case will move much faster, but your mother will be listed as a jointly liable party.”

My palms went numb, the edges of the USB drive digging into my skin.

“How much time is left?”

“Twenty-four hours,” he said. “After tomorrow night, the key accounts will be emptied, and the chain of evidence will be severed. I can handle your father’s transfer tonight, but for the battle ahead, you have to make the decision yourself.”

I looked up at the small window on the hospital room door. Under the dim yellow light, my father looked as fragile as a thin sheet of paper. Then I looked at my mother, crouching by the wall, her shoulders shaking with every sob.

My phone vibrated again. Lu Jingchuan had sent only four words: Last time.

I gripped the USB drive until my knuckles turned white. To save my father, I could continue to bow my head; but to truly end all of this, I would have to personally send my “home” to the judgment seat.

What did liberation actually mean? Was it sewing the wound back together, or carving out the rot by its roots?