Chapter 25: Wen Ying, is this your medical report?

Wen Ying’s voice was calm. Even the loss of her reproductive rights—something of supreme importance to a woman—no longer seemed to matter.

Do what one can, and leave the rest to fate.

With her remaining lifespan an unknown, the ability to bear children had become inconsequential.

The specialist understood her state of mind and asked, "When do you plan to begin chemotherapy? I advise that we start no later than three months from now."

Wen Ying tightened her grip on her fingers. "Understood. I will arrange my affairs as soon as possible."

Ultimately, she and the doctor agreed upon a temporary, conservative treatment plan: to begin with radiotherapy and start on imported specialty medication to suppress the spread of cancer cells as much as possible.

After receiving the prescription, Wen Ying did not go to collect the medicine immediately. Instead, she turned toward the convalescent wing. No matter how composed or collected she might be, when confronted with the specter of death, she felt like a lost child, instinctively seeking a sanctuary.

She suddenly felt a desperate need to see her uncle.

Wen Yiliang’s ward was on the twelfth floor, but when she arrived, it was empty. She inquired at the nurse's station and was told he had gone for chemotherapy. She headed to the oncology floor, but as she approached the accompaniment area, she heard muffled cries of pain from within—sounds that gradually spiraled into uncontrolled, piercing agony.

Her uncle, a man of such refined and gentle character, was rendered utterly frail and broken in that moment.

A chill ran through her entire body. She fled as if escaping.

She did not stop until she saw the nurses pushing Wen Yiliang back to his ward. He looked withered, suffering severely from the side effects of the treatment, retching until only bile remained.

Wen Ying did not enter the room. She sat in the corridor for a long time, wondering if she, too, would be reduced to such a state after chemotherapy. Carrying that numb despair, she stood up and left.

She went to fill her prescriptions, but while passing through the main lobby, she heard a familiar voice.

"Sister-in-law, how did you suddenly catch a cold? It breaks my heart!"

Wen Ying glanced over. On a bench nearby, Lu Siran was tenderly touching Su Nian’s forehead, her eyes reddened with anxiety.

Su Nian offered a faint smile. "It’s just a minor cold, Ranran. There’s no need to be so worried."

"You are my sister-in-law. When you’re sick and suffering, I suffer too. I heard brother stayed up all night taking care of you yesterday?" Su Nian teased with a playful expression.

Su Nian paused, then bit her lip and smiled, saying nothing. It was a silent admission.

Beside them, Lu Jinchuan was looking down at a list of instructions, offering the ill Su Nian his full attention and care. They looked like a true family.

Wen Ying looked down at the bag of cancer medication in her hand. She did not know what to feel.

"Sister-in-law, look how good I am to you. I prepared some porridge and side dishes; they’re perfect for when you’re sick. Try some." Lu Siran pulled an exquisite thermal container from her bag. She opened it for Su Nian as if presenting a treasure. "If you like it, I’ll make more and bring it to you next time."

Wen Ying’s gaze was drawn to the container. She recognized it instantly—it was the one she had used to prepare a meal for the matriarch earlier that day. She looked on, bewildered, unable to fathom why the meal meant for the matriarch had ended up with Su Nian.

Instinctively, she looked toward Lu Jinchuan. His expression remained unchanged as he watched Lu Siran serve the porridge and arrange the side dishes for Su Nian. Having prepared meals for him countless times over the past three years, he could not have failed to recognize her handiwork.

Yet, his handsome, sharp-featured face showed no hint of surprise.

Wen Ying tightened her grip on her fingers. As she stood by the lobby entrance, the biting winter wind snuck through the gaps, filling her with a hollow chill. She turned and walked away.

The moment she looked away, Lu Jinchuan seemed to sense something. He glanced over and caught sight of her familiar retreating figure.

By the time Wen Ying reached the parking lot, she was utterly exhausted. She leaned against the car door to catch her breath. Just as she reached to open it, a warm, large hand gripped her wrist.

The man’s cold, thin voice reached her ears.

"Wen Ying, is this your medical report?"