Xue Xuanqing had only missed a minute or two of the conversation and was immediately baffled.
She didn’t know that before coldly asking the guest to leave, Zong Ying had already patiently urged Aunt to go.
At that time, Aunt had just been silenced by Sheng Qiushi’s words and was momentarily at a loss for a response. Zong Ying then said to her, “It’s already this late. Go back and rest. No one needs to stay here.”
But Aunt immediately countered, “I’m not just here for you at this hour. Last night, Zong Yu’s condition took a critical turn, and we still don’t know how he’s doing now.”
Her face was full of worry as she frowned and sighed. “Why is our family so unlucky? Zong Yu is in critical condition, you’re hospitalized, and now you have to undergo surgery! I heard from the nurse that your condition is quite serious—no wonder you were in such a hurry to deal with your shares recently. Were you worried something might go wrong during the surgery?”
As she spoke, she reached for Zong Ying’s hand and sighed again. “If you had just explained things clearly back then, we wouldn’t have argued over this! You younger generation are all so reckless. Zong Yu is becoming more and more unreasonable too. I heard he insists on filling out some organ donation form, saying, ‘If A-Jie can do it, why can’t I?’”
She paused abruptly, then asked, “You didn’t actually sign one back when you were in medical school, did you?”
Aunt’s gaze at Zong Ying was filled with poorly concealed probing.
Even if Zong Ying was socially inept, she could still decipher the intention behind Aunt’s long-winded, self-satisfied preamble—that final question.
All those words boiled down to one thing—
Have you signed an organ donation agreement?
If your surgery fails, at least your heart won’t go to waste.
Zong Ying clenched her fists and forced her out of the room. But after the words “Please leave,” Aunt refused to go, defending herself: “Don’t overthink it. I didn’t mean anything else. I just want you to focus on recovering. And if you have time, go talk some sense into Zong Yu—tell him not to fill out that form. He’s still young and doesn’t understand the consequences—”
Before she could finish, Aunt suddenly felt someone grab her arm from behind, yanking her up and shoving her out the door. Before she could react, the door slammed shut with a loud bang , firmly locked from the inside.
Regaining her composure, Aunt glared through the small window at Xue Xuanqing’s face, pointing an accusing finger. “Who do you think you are, meddling in my family’s affairs?!”
Xue Xuanqing met her gaze unflinchingly, saying nothing but clenching her fists tightly, veins bulging at her neck.
Aunt had always bullied the weak but feared the strong, and Xue Xuanqing radiated an intimidating aura when angered. Aunt averted her eyes, muttered a few more complaints, and finally turned away in frustration.
“I shouldn’t have let her in,” Xue Xuanqing said, turning back to look at Zong Ying. “What nonsense did she stir up this time?”
Zong Ying’s fists were clenched so tightly that her anger left her speechless. Seeing her silence, Xue Xuanqing strode over, grabbed Sheng Qingrang, and pulled him out of the room. The moment the door closed, she demanded, “What exactly happened?”
Sheng Qingrang repeated Aunt’s words almost verbatim. When he finished, his gaze shifted back to the door—Zong Ying’s forced calm was even more worrying than if she had erupted.Xue Xuanqing slammed her fist against the crash rail after hearing the news, suppressing her anger as she cursed, "That old witch! Only her nephew's life matters to her! If Zong Ying had signed that organ donation agreement, would they have conspired to commit murder just for a heart? How utterly vile—" She choked on her words, nearly breathless with fury. After a pause, she sighed bitterly, "Truly ruthless. Pretending to empathize while scheming with such malice!"
Gritting her teeth, she punched the rail again, following Sheng Qingrang's gaze into the room. Under the mingling glow of the overhead lights and the dim dawn outside, Zong Ying crumpled the paper cup on the nightstand.
Sheng Qingrang hurried to push the door open, only to be blocked by Xue Xuanqing.
She glanced up at the digital clock in the hospital corridor and warned him coldly, "If you don’t plan on disappearing here, you should leave now."
Time was running out. The neurosurgery ward was too high up—disappearing here might mean a fatal fall.
Sheng Qingrang took a deep breath. Xue Xuanqing tightened her grip on the door handle and urged him, "Zong Ying’s business is mine. Don’t worry about it. Get out of here!"
And so, at exactly six o'clock, Sheng Qingrang vanished without a trace outside the barbecue shop across from the hospital.
Standing by the window, Zong Ying watched him disappear. The sky was just brightening, the streets still quiet with closed shops and few pedestrians. He faded like a phantom, leaving no trace behind—as if he had never existed.
A sound made her turn. Xue Xuanqing had arrived with breakfast.
Closing the door, Xue Xuanqing set the food container on the nightstand and said, "With you gone, work’s been piling up at the station. The boss refused to approve my leave, but there’s an urgent matter I have to handle. I’ll come straight back after my shift." She paused, then added sternly, "If that old witch bothers you again, call me immediately."
Zong Ying reassured her not to worry. After breakfast, she saw Xue Xuanqing off. Once the rounds were over, Zong Ying paced the corridor restlessly before finally slipping on a cardigan over her hospital gown and heading downstairs.
Desperate for a cigarette but finding none on her, she went to the small shop between the drama academy and the hospital.
The shopkeeper said, "Black Devil’s out of stock. Take this for now," tossing her a different pack—dark blue with a small silver dove of peace printed on it.
Borrowing a lighter, Zong Ying lit up outside the counter.
She smoked three in a row. As she finished the last one, the shopkeeper eyed her hospital wristband and remarked, "Not good to smoke so much while hospitalized."
Zong Ying looked up. The weather was unseasonably perfect—neither hot nor cold. Groups of young, vibrant students strolled out of the campus, full of life. Yet an indescribable bitterness weighed on her heart.
She had tried so hard to distance herself, only to receive such "concern."
To them, she was nothing but a vessel for a heart.
Zong Ying didn’t light another. She pocketed the remaining cigarettes and glanced at the wall clock inside. The rest of the day stretched ahead, empty and idle—
Work was on hold. Yan Man’s case had stalled. Surgery was pending. The events of 1937 no longer needed her involvement. She had become utterly superfluous.
Xue Xuanqing arrived late, rushing into the hospital at half past ten, covered in dust. She hurried to the ward, relieved to find Zong Ying asleep. Exhausted, she slumped into a chair in the hallway.Exhausted, reeking of sweat, with greasy hair, she was too tired to get up and wash.
Suddenly, someone sat down beside her. Xue Xuanqing turned her head to see Sheng Qingrang.
She turned back, staring into the air as she asked, "Where did you come from?"
Sheng Qingrang was damp all over—evidently, it was still raining in 1937. He replied, "The apartment."
A question and answer, then silence.
After a long while, Xue Xuanqing suddenly sat up straight. "The Zong family is capable of anything when desperate. Zong Ying has a kind heart—if she really signs that organ donation agreement, they might even collude with doctors to make her surgery fail on purpose. We must stop Zong Ying. Once she wakes up, I’ll talk some sense into her."
Sheng Qingrang listened, thought for a few seconds, then responded, "Even so, it might be useless."
Xue Xuanqing froze and turned to look at him.
He pulled out a thin, small booklet from his briefcase—white cover, emblazoned with the national emblem and a publisher’s name, with a line of red text in the middle: "Regulations on Human Organ Transplantation."
"I found this in Miss Zong’s bookcase. If this is the current regulation, Article 8 states—" He flipped to the page and pointed to the relevant clause: "If a citizen has not expressed refusal to donate their organs before death, after their death, their spouse, adult children, or parents may jointly express consent for organ donation in written form."
His finger underlined the words "has not expressed refusal" as he continued, "This means even if Miss Zong hasn’t signed a donation agreement, as long as she hasn’t explicitly refused, her father still has the right to consent to donating her organs."
At this, his lips tightened involuntarily, his facial muscles growing rigid.
Xue Xuanqing snatched the booklet, scanning every word intently before slamming it shut against her knee. "So if her father agrees, she doesn’t even need to sign? If that old bastard finds out, it’ll be a disaster!"
"However—" Sheng Qingrang continued, "as long as she explicitly refuses—say, in writing—then no one has the right to donate or remove her organs."
Xue Xuanqing shot to her feet, thrusting a hand toward Sheng Qingrang. "Got a pen and paper? The moment Zong Ying wakes up, I’ll make her write it."
Before Sheng Qingrang could even find a pen, she abruptly changed her mind. "No, never mind. Knowing Zong Ying, she’d refuse to write it. I shouldn’t interfere with her wishes. I just need to crush that old bastard’s vile scheme."
After days of exhaustion, Xue Xuanqing suddenly felt energized. She wanted this resolved as quickly as possible and wasted no more words on Sheng Qingrang, only instructing him, "Stay with Zong Ying," before rushing to the elevator and hurrying out of the hospital.
Under the vast night sky, Sheng Qingrang kept watch over the sleeping Zong Ying in the ward. Gazing at the scattered lights outside and listening to the occasional wail of ambulances below, he suddenly realized that even in peacetime, people endured all kinds of "wars"—this sprawling metropolis was both a "stage" and a "battlefield."
Xue Xuanqing worked tirelessly through the night, finally returning to the hospital just before dawn.
She ran up in one breath, handing Sheng Qingrang a written statement, her voice unsteady with agitation. "Well? Doesn’t it look exactly like Zong Ying’s handwriting?"
Afraid of waking the sleeping Zong Ying, Sheng Qingrang took the statement and stepped outside.This statement fully expressed the intention of "I do not consent to donation," with every word crafted to the point of being indistinguishable from the real thing, and the signature was an exact replica.
Xue Xuanqing was clearly impatient: "This statement is just for show, to make the Zong family give up their malicious intentions and ensure there’s no foul play in Zong Ying’s surgery. If—if the surgery really doesn’t go well in the end—" She gritted her teeth. "If it truly comes to that, everything will still follow her own wishes, and this statement will be treated as if it never existed."
As she spoke, she took back the statement and took two steps forward, only to bump into Sheng Qiushi. She immediately asked, "Has Zong Ying’s Aunt come today?"
Sheng Qiushi replied, "Zong Yu is still in critical condition. Their family members are usually upstairs keeping watch. I just ran into Zong Yu’s Mother in the elevator."
Hearing this, Xue Xuanqing rushed straight to the elevator. Just as the doors were about to close, Sheng Qingrang suddenly reached out to stop them, stepped inside, and pressed the button for the top floor, riding up with her.
The elevator ascended rapidly. Xue Xuanqing clenched the thin sheet of paper in her hand, her anger simmering.
Once out of the elevator, they first went to Zong Yu’s ward, but aside from the caregiver, no one else was there.
The caregiver, seeing Xue Xuanqing in uniform, answered truthfully when questioned: "The doctor came by earlier, and the two of them followed him to the consultation room to talk."
The two of them? Xue Xuanqing immediately thought of Zong Yu’s Mother and Aunt. She turned sharply and strode toward the consultation room.
The door was tightly shut, but faint voices could be heard from inside.
The doctor was speaking: "The condition is worsening. Without a matching heart, you need to prepare for the possibility that we may not find one in time."
Zong Yu’s Mother sounded exhausted: "There’s really no other... no other way?"
The doctor replied, "Mrs. Zong, I’ve explained everything I can. I’m sorry."
Then came Aunt’s voice: "It’s not completely hopeless yet, is it? There might still be a turn of fortune!"
The doctor asked, "What turn of fortune?"
Sheng Qingrang took a deep breath, the veins on the back of his hand bulging.
Xue Xuanqing could bear it no longer. She raised her hand and pounded on the door—once, twice, three times—then pushed it open the moment the doctor said, "Come in."
Under the combined gazes of the three, Xue Xuanqing walked straight up to Aunt, forcing herself to remain composed. "What a fine 'turn of fortune' indeed. No wonder you went out of your way this morning to ask if Zong Ying had signed a donor agreement—so someone here is desperate for a heart transplant? Well, let me tell you—there’s no need to scheme so deviously."
With that, she slapped the thin sheet of paper onto the doctor’s desk and recited the regulation word for word: "If a citizen has expressed refusal to donate their organs while alive, no organization or individual may donate or remove their organs. Unauthorized removal of organs from a citizen who has explicitly refused donation constitutes a crime and shall be prosecuted according to law. So open your eyes wide and take a good look—black and white, crystal clear. Thinking of exploiting Zong Ying? Don’t even dream of it! Abandon those filthy thoughts of yours right now!"
Aunt was visibly stunned but quickly jumped to her feet in protest: "Always meddling in our family’s affairs—who the hell do you think you are?!"
Xue Xuanqing’s chest heaved as she stared her down, enunciating each word: "Even if I’m nothing in your eyes, to me, Zong Ying is at least a living, breathing person. What is she to you? Huh? What is she in your eyes?! A beating heart?!"She turned around after speaking, her gaze coldly sweeping over Zong Yu's Mother's face: "Even if, by some stroke of bad luck, Zong Ying were truly that unfortunate, I, Xue Xuanqing, would stake my life on not allowing you to lay a single finger on her body."
The doctor sat behind the desk, holding his breath without a sound. Aunt's eyes flickered nervously as she hastily grabbed the paper from the table, frantically trying to tear it up.
Xue Xuanqing then declared with full confidence, "Go ahead and tear it. I've kept copies. If you don't believe it's genuine, feel free to have it authenticated." After saying this, she glanced at her watch, took a few quick steps, and slammed the door behind her as she left.
The time had already passed six o'clock, and Sheng Qingrang's figure had long disappeared from the hallway.
Inside the consultation room, a deathly silence now prevailed.
Zong Yu's Mother snatched Zong Ying's statement from Aunt's hands. Layers of anger surged across her usually gentle and harmless face, turning her complexion as pale as wax. In an instant, she crumpled the paper into a ball.
She glared at Aunt and hurled the crumpled ball at her, her emotions nearly out of control: "Why did you have to meddle? Why did you have to ask?!"
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