Mu Jing somewhat regretted agreeing to bring Qu Hua's clothes for him.
Qu Hua interpreted her silence as not knowing where the clothes were stored, so he specifically told her their location, "Could you bring them to me tomorrow at noon? If it's inconvenient for you, I can go back tonight..."
Before Qu Hua could finish his sentence, Mu Jing immediately said, "I'll bring them to you tonight."
Qu Hua swallowed the words he was about to say and studied his new bride: "Why are you in such a hurry?" It seemed as if she was afraid he would return tonight, deliberately moving up the time to deliver the clothes.
"Am I?"
Absolutely.
"Would you like to visit Grandma?"
"Grandma isn't feeling well and needs more rest. I don't want to disturb her. Please send her my regards."
She didn't want to be mistaken for "Yanyan" again. Although Qu Hua had helped her on the train and proactively married her, both actions were related to her resemblance to Yanyan. Yet she didn't want others constantly reminding her of it.
Since being called "Yanyan," Mu Jing had felt uncomfortable around Qu Hua. She wasn't sure who he saw when he looked at her—whether her front profile or side profile resembled "Yanyan" more, whether his smiles were for her or because she reminded him of someone. She could accept Qu Hua's rushed marriage with her for Grandma's sake, and she could accept that emotions played little role in their union. She never believed feelings were essential to marriage. But she struggled to accept that Qu Hua married her because she resembled someone else. That would make her feel like a screen rather than a person. She once had a classmate who repeatedly went to the cinema to watch the same movie just to see her favorite actor on screen—even if separated by vast distances, watching the virtual version was better than nothing. She didn't know what Qu Hua felt when he looked at her, but she didn't want to frequently see him viewing her as a screen. Had she known before the wedding, she might not have agreed to marry him. But since they were already married, she could only focus on the benefits of this union.
Mu Jing repeated what she had said earlier—she would bring Qu Hua's clothes to him that very night.
After work, Mu Jing went straight to her and Qu Hua's bedroom upon arriving at the Qu residence. She rummaged through the drawer for Qu Hua's underwear, this time not bothering to demonstrate her clothes-folding skills. She pinched the underwear between two fingers, directly placed it in a bag, stuffed it into her purse, and hurried downstairs. Before reaching the bottom, she heard Qu Hua's voice.
He was speaking with the family's orderly, Xiao Qin.
He had actually come home.
Mu Jing turned around and hurried back to the bedroom. When Qu Hua entered, she was stuffing his underwear into the wardrobe.
He called her name from behind. Mu Jing's hand froze mid-air, and ultimately, under Qu Hua's gaze, she returned his underwear to the wardrobe. When she took it out, it was perfectly fine, but now it was crumpled into a ball. With those eyes watching her from behind, Mu Jing naturally couldn't refold the clothes, yet leaving them in disarray wasn't appropriate either.
"In such a hurry to deliver my clothes?"
"I thought you might need them tonight," she said, adjusting her expression as she turned to face Qu Hua. "I assumed you wouldn't be back tonight."
"I'm not on duty tonight, and Grandma's condition is stable. There's no reason for me not to come home. Did you wait long for me last night since I didn't return?"
"Taking care of Grandma is more important."
Qu Hua smiled at Mu Jing: "You're truly so considerate."During the meal, Qu Hua shared good news with the family: Grandma had agreed to undergo surgery, and he would be the chief surgeon.
With her worries resolved, Grandma felt that rather than enduring such suffering, it was better to give it a try—even if she died, it would be a release. However, she had one condition: her grandson must not perform the surgery. She thought, if she were to die under her own grandson's knife, how could he continue living?
Hearing that Qu Hua would be the chief surgeon, his mother frowned. "At Mom's age, I think conservative treatment would be better." Surgical success isn't guaranteed, and with Grandma nearly eighty, the risks were evident. What if it failed? Even the most skilled doctors approach operating on relatives with extreme caution—emotional considerations often cloud rationality. If another doctor failed, it would just be another failed case. But if he failed, he'd carry that psychological burden for life. Hadn't they learned enough from the lesson with Yanyan? Back then, Qu Hua wasn't even the chief surgeon—just the first assistant.
But as a mother, she didn't want to reopen her son's old wounds. He was married now, and bringing up the past would benefit no one.
Old Qu also agreed with his wife. Maintaining his authority at home, he questioned his son like a subordinate: "Is the surgery's success rate 100 percent?"
Qu Hua looked at his father as if he were a fool. "No surgery has a 100 percent success rate. When you were in combat, did you refuse to fight unless victory was guaranteed?"
"How can you compare yourself to me?" Qu Hua was not Old Qu's ideal son—he'd wanted a son who could clash bayonets on the battlefield. His son did wield a knife, but it was a surgical one. Though not highly educated, Old Qu knew about Lu Xun, who abandoned medicine for literature because doctors could save only limited lives. For his son to compare surgery to his wartime experiences was utterly inappropriate.
Old Qu was a devoted son himself—he couldn't bear the risk of his mother's surgery failing. Most importantly, he didn't trust his own son. In his youth, he'd looked down on old men; now, approaching old age himself, he elevated experience to an unattainable height and began disparaging the young. He wanted to find a more reliable doctor. He told Qu Hua he planned to consult another TCM specialist for a second opinion.
Hearing his father's lack of trust, Qu Hua laughed. "You must have won your battles back then just by luck, right?"
Old Qu was immediately enraged by his son's insolent words.
Just as he was about to erupt, Qu Hua said, "Do you think I'm just an amateur spouting nonsense?"
Old Qu did indeed think Qu Hua was talking nonsense.
"Different professions are separated by mountains," Qu Hua continued. "Please don't question my professionalism either." Grandma's surgery was complex—some senior doctors had deep experience but might not withstand such a long operation.The implication was that everything Old Qu said about the surgery was nonsense. Qu Hua never defied his father, except when it came to his profession. As a child, he was famously well-behaved in the neighborhood—never got into fights, always ranked first in exams, and spent his time at home either reading or making specimens. Yet Old Qu didn’t like his son being this way; he preferred livelier children. What was the point of staying home reading all day? Either playing with butterflies or tinkering with the record player—Old Qu was very busy with work, and whenever he came home and saw his son listening to music or reading, his most frequent action was to shoo Qu Hua out of the study. Sometimes, he would have the guard take Qu Hua to the training ground for shooting practice. After a few sessions, Qu Hua mastered the skill—his archery was remarkably accurate. Hearing this, Old Qu inwardly sighed with pride, thinking, That’s my son. Other times, after driving Qu Hua out of the study, Old Qu would pay him no further attention. Even with ample freedom, Qu Hua never caused trouble. Outside, he could play tennis until dark. At that time, not many people in the city played tennis, though there were more than there are now. His tennis partner was always the same—an old man who had a granddaughter named Yanyan, who helped them retrieve the balls.
"I don’t care what you think—I won’t let you experiment on the old lady."
"I’m finished eating. Take your time." Qu Hua set down his chopsticks and left the table.
"Who are you trying to show that attitude to?"
Seeing that Old Qu was about to lose his temper, his wife hurriedly urged Mu Jing to try the shrimp. She was subtly reminding Old Qu that their son had only been married for two days and that they shouldn’t let their daughter-in-law witness a scene.
Mu Jing hadn’t expected Qu Hua to confront his father so directly. His father wasn’t just a father—he represented authority.
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