Chapter Thirty: An Unexpected Discovery

After asking the nurse, Zhao Fan left with a belly full of anger.

On the other side, Zhao Haitian had just finished donating blood. Pressing one hand to the spot where the needle had pricked him and holding a small red booklet in the other, he paused in his steps when he saw Zhao Fan’s sullen face.

“Brother, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Zhao Fan replied, choosing not to worry Zhao Haitian about the blood donation and simply avoiding the topic.

Zhao Haitian’s eyes flickered. “Are you thinking about the blood donation?”

Zhao Fan, unsurprised at being seen through, lowered his voice. “The hospital’s rules are set in stone—three donations in a short timeframe are simply impossible.”

Normally, the minimum interval between blood donations is six months, but what they lacked most now was time. Zhao Yun’er’s condition couldn’t wait.

Zhao Haitian’s gaze sharpened. “Don’t worry, there’s always a solution.”

“Three times... Hah!” Zhao Fan let out a cold laugh and resolved to try and pull some strings.

“Don’t rush. I’ll see if I can talk to someone—maybe we won’t have to donate three full times.”

“All right,” Zhao Haitian replied, but as soon as he parted from Zhao Fan, he secretly went to another location within the hospital to donate blood a second time.

In the hospital room, Zhao Fan glossed over the more urgent details, only reassuring Father Zhao and Mother Zhao.

“It’s not a big deal, easily resolved.”

Mother Zhao’s worry was plain on her face. “Xiao Fan, tell us honestly, is this really as easy as you say?”

Zhao Fan replied with confidence, “Of course. If I can’t even handle this, then I’ve followed my mentor in vain.”

After calming his parents, Zhao Fan left. But outside the hospital, his confidence faded.

He truly didn’t know anyone influential enough to speak on their behalf at the provincial hospital.

As Zhao Fan brushed past a woman, he glanced back idly, but his gaze sharpened—why was Yang Qingqing here?

Doubt flashed through his mind. Zhao Fan quietly followed her and saw Yang Qingqing approach the information desk to converse with the nurses before leaving shortly after.

Once she was gone, Zhao Fan went to the desk himself, making small talk before casually asking, “What did the woman who was just here want to know?”

The two nurses exchanged glances, their eyes wary as they looked at him.

“Why do you ask?” one of them asked, her tone changing.

Realizing their misunderstanding, Zhao Fan sighed, “You might not know, but that woman is my sister-in-law. I’m the uncle of the girl in room 806—she has leukemia.”

Leukemia was rare among children these days; as soon as Zhao Fan mentioned it, the nurses knew whom he meant.

“You mean that woman was the child’s mother?”

“Yes.”

“If she’s the child’s mother, shouldn’t you, as the uncle, go straight to her? Besides, I heard her say she didn’t even know which room her child was in.”

The nurses exchanged glances, privately puzzled at the family’s apparent discord, with people coming to the desk one after another.

Zhao Fan’s heart skipped a beat. “Did you give her the room number?”

One nurse shook her head. “No, we didn’t know her identity or purpose, so we didn’t reveal the room number.”

If they simply gave out room numbers to anyone who asked, they’d surely be reported.

“If she comes again, please ask her to contact her husband directly.”

“Um...” The nurses hesitated.

“You don’t need to worry. Because of the child’s illness, that woman has already filed for divorce—they’re currently going through the process. As you know, children don’t always understand everything, so...”

He trailed off, looking troubled, which only set the nurses’ imaginations spinning. Piecing together the story, their only response was sympathy.

“Don’t worry, we’ll keep an eye out.”

To abandon a child because of illness—such a woman was unfit to be a mother.

Zhao Fan thanked them sincerely, “Sorry for the trouble.”

“No trouble at all.”

Not an hour after Zhao Fan left, the story of a mother abandoning her child with leukemia had already made the rounds among the nurses, sparking widespread indignation.

“A mother like that doesn’t deserve the title,” one said.

“Exactly. She acts nothing like a mother—how chilling.”

The topic circled endlessly among them.

Meanwhile, Zhao Fan got in touch with Zhao Haitian and met him on the hospital’s ground floor.

Just as he was about to mention seeing Yang Qingqing, Zhao Fan froze, his gaze fixed on Zhao Haitian’s face, his expression growing grave.

“Brother, what’s happened to you?”

Zhao Haitian’s face was deathly pale, deep shadows ringing his eyes. He looked ready to collapse at any moment, his back hunched, making him seem even more frail.

Zhao Haitian unconsciously touched his face. “What’s wrong?”

Without a word, Zhao Fan dragged him to a washroom mirror.

“Brother, if you keep this up, you’ll collapse before Yun’er’s even a match for your marrow. Have you thought about what happens if you are a match but can’t undergo the transplant because you’re not healthy enough? What then?”

A marrow transplant requires the donor to be healthy; if Zhao Haitian and Zhao Yun’er were a match, the hospital would never operate given his current state.

Zhao Haitian swayed, his face growing even paler. “I... I didn’t think of that. I just...”

“Just what?”

Gritting his teeth, Zhao Haitian couldn’t admit to the repeated blood donations.

“I’ve been working extra jobs, staying up late—that’s all. Don’t worry, for Yun’er’s sake, I’ll take care of myself.”

“I hope you mean it.”

Leading Zhao Haitian back to the ward, Zhao Fan saw Father Zhao and Mother Zhao playing with Yun’er. The little girl, oblivious to the troubles of the adults, was beaming with happiness.

“Xiao Fan, Haitian, what’s going on?” Mother Zhao eyed the two, her tone uncertain—the atmosphere between them seemed oddly tense, as if they’d just had a fight.

Zhao Fan knew things looked off between him and Zhao Haitian, but he didn’t want to explain, so he glossed over it.

“Dad, Mom, I need to talk to you about something. Yun’er, could you stay here by yourself for a moment? We’ll be right back.”

The little girl blinked her bright eyes and nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Zhao Fan patted her head and led the way out. Though puzzled, Father Zhao, Mother Zhao, and Zhao Haitian followed.

Zhao Fan got straight to the point. “I just saw Yang Qingqing downstairs.”

At his words, Father Zhao and Mother Zhao instinctively looked at Zhao Haitian.

Meeting their eyes, bitterness crossed Zhao Haitian’s face. “If she wants to come, let her. It doesn’t matter.”

Father Zhao replied, “How can you say that? She wouldn’t come for no reason. The child’s still in treatment, awaiting a marrow transplant. We can’t let anything interfere with that.”