Chapter 6: Relatives Who Turn Their Elbows Outward

Outside the emergency room of the hospital, the light was dim and yellowish, and the air was thick with the pungent scent of disinfectant.

Lingfeng He sat slumped on the floor, his hands covering his face as tears slipped between his fingers. His sobs were low and remorseful, echoing sharply through the empty corridor.

Wan’er Wen stood nearby, her gaze complex as she looked at this man who was usually brimming with confidence and charm, yet now so innocent and fragile.

She took out her phone again, the screen displaying the message Qiu Ya had sent that morning: “If anything unfortunate happens to me, it’s all Lingfeng He’s fault.”

Her heart remained filled with doubt and unease; that message cast a shadow over her thoughts, refusing to lift.

Lingfeng He’s explanations held no weight with her.

Inside the operating room, the lights continued to flicker; the red signal was glaring and vivid, silently conveying the tension and urgency within.

Wan’er Wen took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves.

At that moment, the sharp sound of hurried footsteps shattered the silence of the corridor.

A middle-aged woman with a head full of tight curls, dressed in a designer outfit, approached with an anxious yet concerned expression. One hand rested in the pocket of her deep red coat, while her other arm carried a bright red handbag, giving her an air of flamboyance.

“Son-in-law,” she said without reproach, more comforting than accusatory, “we came as soon as we got your call. Don’t worry, don’t be afraid. Qiu Ya’s been like family to me since she was little—I know her temper well. She must have been throwing a tantrum. You’ve had it tough, but we won’t blame you.”

Behind her stood a man with gold-rimmed glasses, scholarly in appearance. He nodded in agreement, his eyes full of sympathy and understanding for Lingfeng He.

This scene was all too familiar to Wan’er Wen.

She clenched her hands tightly, her brows knitting together as a surge of frustration and unease welled within her.

The middle-aged couple were Qiu Ya’s aunt and uncle, people who should be closest to her, yet instead, they kept their distance from her and lavished warmth on Lingfeng He.

Wan’er Wen gave a cold snort, expressing her displeasure.

The woman noticed Wan’er Wen then and walked over directly, her tone laced with a hint of insolence and disdain: “Wan’er, everyone in our family is here now. You don’t need to worry. Qiu Ya is being cared for by us, so you should just go home and rest.”

Listening to her words, Wan’er Wen felt a sharp ache in her heart.

She looked at the woman, trying to glean something from her eyes.

But the woman merely smiled, a smile tinged with pride and provocation, as if to say, “See? Qiu Ya is closer to our family.”

Wan’er Wen said nothing, silently watching them, her gaze shifting between Lingfeng He and the middle-aged woman.

Her thoughts were a tangled mess, impossible to unravel or sever.

She couldn’t understand why Qiu Ya had sent such a message in the face of danger. She only knew the matter was far from simple, but she had no proof.

Suddenly, the operating room door swung open, and a doctor stepped out. His face was weary and grave. Scanning the crowd, his gaze finally settled on Lingfeng He.

“The patient’s condition is critical,” he announced. “Emergency surgery is required immediately. Family members, please come with me to sign the consent form.”

At his words, Lingfeng He abruptly lifted his head, rose to his feet, and followed the doctor into the signing room beside the operating theater.