Warning: there’s a cliffhanger this chapter that should resolve by ch 50. If you can’t stand cliffie, wait until Friday~
Everyone became used to the sight of Boss Jiang carrying a boy in tow.
Even though Peng Jiahui was well-connected locally, his business was not on the same scale as Jiang Wang’s, limiting his social circle mostly to the surrounding neighborhood.
At first, many assumed Jiang Wang’s bachelor status was because he was raising a child from a previous marriage.
But then rumors started swirling, each more absurd than the last.
Some said Jiang Wang was secretly protecting a descendant of the British royal family in a small city; others claimed he was juggling multiple relationships but had a soft spot for his first love, with whom he supposedly even had a child.
People who couldn’t find a way to slip gifts to Jiang Wang would often try to use Peng Xingwang, hoping the boy could pass along shopping cards, bank cards, or red envelopes on their behalf.
Peng Xingwang had grown wise to these tactics and would always reply, “Sure, I’ll take the money, but I’ll keep it all for myself and won’t say a word to my brother.”
He’d also add, “Great, now I can use this money to buy lottery tickets! Uncle, please don’t tell my brother I took your red envelope!”
At this, many would nervously pull back their envelopes. “Well… that’s not ideal. How about you give it to your brother to hold onto?”
“Why should I?” the boy would reply, looking like a spoiled rich second generation brat. “I’m saving up for a sports car! If he finds out, he’ll seize my little piggy bank!”
Jiang Wang was amused, letting the kid serve as his non-smoking, non-drinking shield, going about his days with ease. He handled business by day and returned home to call Ji Linqiu at night.
“My dad actually accepted that scarf,” Ji Linqiu remarked, amused. “Those two always complain about me wasting money, yet they’ve been flaunting it to all the relatives.”
“Oh, by the way, I’ve booked my ticket. I’ll be back the morning after tomorrow. How are things on your end?”
“No issues here,” Jiang Wang said, padding into the living room in his slippers. He glanced over at Xingwang, still furiously scribbling away at his neglected homework. “Xingwang spent his whole winter break playing and hasn’t touched his homeworks.”
“Honestly, no teachers even check those,” Ji Linqiu laughed. “Everyone’s too busy at the start of term, so nobody actually has the time to bother with them.”
“I’m not hoping he’ll be the top student in his grade.” Jiang Wang replied, stifling a yawn. “But still, kids should finish their homeworks and avoid getting into troubles.”
They chatted for a long time, casually but endlessly, like they had all the time in the world, yet endless things to say.
Just before ending the call, Ji Linqiu realized, “Wait, we’re on a long-distance call across provinces.”
“I don’t mind.” Jiang Wang gave the receiver a quick kiss. “Get some sleep, sweet dreams.”
At this point, he was beginning to wonder when video calls on WeChat would be available. If they didn’t hurry up, he might just invent it himself. His relationship was seriously hampered this way.
With Ji Linqiu away, the three-story home felt lonely, which only encouraged Peng Xingwang to whine and plead to sleep with his big brother every night. Jiang Wang indulged him, though occasionally he’d accidentally kick him in the middle of the night.
Fortunately, the boy slept like a log. Even when kicked, he’d just grunt, roll over, and drift back into a dream.
Tonight, however, was different.
A strange restlessness gnawed at Jiang, leaving him tense and uneasy.
Even after his call with Ji Linqiu, the feeling wouldn’t subside. He tossed and turned but couldn’t find peace.
Finally, around 3 AM., just as he was drifting off, the phone’s loud ring shattered the quiet. He’d set his phone on silent, but the landline’s sharp ring pierced the night air, shrill and jarring.
Jiang Wang pulled on a jacket and hurried downstairs to answer, seeing the call was from Cizhou.
“Hello? Sorry, we were sleeping. What’s wrong?”
“Something’s happened, it’s Wenjuan,” Chang Hua said, voice fraught with tension. “She’s dying. If her strength gives out in the next two hours, they’ll have to perform an emergency C-section.”
It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head, chilling him to the bone.
“Explain clearly,” Jiang Wang forced himself to stay calm, resisting the urge to yell. “Wasn’t the baby due until March? Why didn’t anyone call me when she was admitted to the hospital?”
“She became unwell so suddenly. She had a uterine fibroid in a tricky position, and the doctor recommended a natural birth.” Chang Hua stammered, his words stumbling over each other. “We tried inducing labor, but her pelvis was too small. She’s been in labor for almost seven hours, and she’s too exhausted to even cry out. They want to switch to a C-section.
“But the doctor said that if she were to undergo surgery, they’re worried she might hemorrhage on the table! It might not even be able to save the baby!”
“You keep her alive!” Jiang Wang roared. “Do whatever it takes to keep her safe! I’ll drive over now. If anything happens to her, I’ll kill you first, you hear me?!”
“I know, I know,” Chang Hua murmured, barely coherent after hours of strain. “I just… the doctor’s calling me back. I need to…”
Jiang Wang hung up abruptly, dressed in record time, grabbed Peng Xingwang from bed, and hastily threw some clothes and socks in a bag before rushing out.
For the first time, he resented the lack of a high-speed rail or an airport in the area.
Still half-asleep, Peng Xingwang suddenly found himself airborne and then dumped into the backseat with a pile of clothes. Rubbing his red eyes, he held back tears, watching his brother from the backseat with concern.
“…What happened?”
“Your mom might be dying. We have to hurry to see her, it might be for the last time.”
Jiang Wang couldn’t bring himself to say it outright. After a long silence, he managed to rasp out, “We’re going to Cizhou.”
The child’s face went pale as he quickly pieced together that something had gone wrong with his mom’s pregnancy.
He didn’t dare ask any more questions. Still in his pajamas with bare feet, he immediately covered his mouth to stifle his sobs, crying silently as tears streamed down his face.
Jiang Wang knew the boy was crying but forced himself to focus, his heart hollow, as if something had shattered within him.
His mind wrestled with a tangle of emotions, including a fear he hadn’t felt in years.
His mother deserved to live to old age.
Several years before he’d fallen into the river, he’d had one brief phone call with that aged woman.
…They hadn’t spoken since.
He tried to reassure himself that she’d be alright, yet the icy dread gnawed at him completely.
What if something went wrong?
Ever since coming to this world, Jiang Wang had unintentionally changed so many lives: Ji Linqiu’s future, Peng Xingwang’s future, Peng Jiahui’s future…
He couldn’t imagine arriving in Cizhou only to receive terrible news. Even now, he found himself dreading the next ring of his phone.
“We’re taking the shortest route—it’ll take around five hours.” He took a deep breath, organizing his thoughts. “Xingwang, get all your clothes and socks on, and follow everything I say.”
Tearfully, the boy clumsily dressed himself, letting the tears flow while dutifully calling every contact who could help.
With the call on speaker, there was no avoiding what they heard.
The flood of information poured out like two collided trucks, spilling everywhere.
Jiang Wang kept his eyes fixed on the road signs speeding past on the highway. It was his first time driving from Hongcheng to Cizhou, navigating numerous backroads and three highway connections.
Chang Hua’s frantic voice updated him on Wenjuan’s condition, while a doctor friend offered counsel, and a business associate arranged blood donations.
From the surgery’s risks of hemorrhaging, the fibroid’s location, and the fetal position to the constantly shifting heartbeat metrics, the flow of information continued uninterrupted via the speakerphone, echoing in their tense silence.
Throughout the journey, Xingwang held the phone, making calls without a pause. When the first battery drained, he didn’t wait for Jiang Wang to say anything. He quietly reached into Jiang Wang’s bag, found a spare, and replaced it with practiced hands.
Jiang Wang glanced at Peng Xingwang through the rearview mirror, his gaze lingering on the boy’s determined expression. He murmured, “This is too cruel for you.”
It was too harsh for an eight-year-old to learn of these life-and-death matters and face them firsthand, raw and unfiltered.
Peng Xingwang kept his head down, calmly swapping the battery. He’d stopped crying long ago.
“She’s my mom,” he whispered. “No matter what, she’s still my mom.”
He was too young to understand the slim odds, too young to grasp the minute probabilities. He was only silently preparing himself to see her one last time.
By the time the doctors wheeled Du Wenjuan from labor to an emergency C-section, they’d finally reached the outskirts of Cizhou. Chang Hua, after delivering her to the operating room, looked like he’d been drained of all strength, standing silently, worn out.
The early morning sky was faintly lightening, a light drizzle beginning to fall. Raindrops fragmented their view, as if everything was fractured and chaotic, like looking into a mirror shattered by a fall.
When they arrived at the hospital, it was as if they’d suddenly woken from a long, exhausting nightmare. They raced upstairs, two steps at a time, and finally saw the brightly lit doors of the operating room.
There was Chang Hua, along with an older couple they didn’t recognize, standing vigil.
Jiang Wang had already arranged for the blood supply and coordinated with the doctors on the surgery plan. But beyond that, there was nothing he could do.
He couldn’t go inside to bear the pain in her place, nor could he wield a scalpel to help any of the doctors.
So he sat down, holding Peng Xingwang close, beginning the excruciating wait.
Some of the in-laws couldn’t bear it and had started talking about why this second child delivery was so difficult, or whether they should start preparing baby items just in case.
Jiang Wang listened, detached, until he noticed a chill creeping over him. His hands were ice-cold, and Xingwang’s were, too.
Again and again, he thought that his mother should live to old age in peace, so she couldn’t be in danger. She was old enough to call him on the phone just before he transmigrated.
And yet, regret and fear clawed at him. Why didn’t he listen to her on that last call? Why didn’t he let her finish?
In that moment, he found himself dreading the loss of both this thirty-something Du Wenjuan and the Du Wenjuan in her fifties.
The thought haunted him like a spell, forcing him to wonder how the older Du Wenjuan had been, if she might also have thought of him.
In his previous life, Jiang Wang had never known what a real family was.
So he never thought he’d be the kind of person to have one.
But now, he had a lover, he had parents—even though none of them knew where he’d come from, why he was alone, or who he truly was.
The second hour ticked by, with doctors coming and going, until a second critical condition notice was issued.
“…There are complications with hemolytic disease in the newborn… the situation is not optimistic…”
Chang Hua’s dry lips moved soundlessly as he struggled to comprehend each word the doctor said.
Just then, someone rushed in, his footsteps as anxious as theirs had been, and wrapped his arms tightly around them both.
“I’m here,” Ji Linqiu, pale-eyed and unshaven from an overnight drive, embraced them with all his strength. “Don’t be afraid. She’ll be alright.”
In the harsh, cold white light of the hallway, Ji Linqiu’s back shielded them, his embrace like a delayed redemption in the surrounding darkness.
Finally, Jiang Wang began to tremble.
