Chapter Thirty-Five: An Unexpected Turn

Looking at the little girl curled up in Mrs. Zhao’s arms, Zhao Fan softened his voice. “What’s wrong, Yun’er?”

The girl was soft and small, just looking at her filled his heart with tenderness.

Zhao Fan reached out, gently ruffled her hair, and spoke again. “Yun’er, do you have something you want to tell Uncle?”

Zhao Yun’er blinked her eyes. “Uncle, did Mom and Dad have a fight?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Whenever Mom fights with Dad, she doesn’t look at me.”

Zhao Fan was taken aback for a moment, then immediately understood what Zhao Yun’er meant—Yang Qingqing hadn’t paid attention to the child.

This really was…

A surge of anger clogged his chest, but Zhao Fan forced it down and said nonchalantly, “Mom and Dad didn’t fight. She was just in a hurry, there was something she had to do quickly, so she couldn’t talk with you for long.”

Zhao Yun’er’s eyes were full of innocence. “Really?”

“Of course it’s true. All right, stay here with Grandma for now. Uncle needs to leave for a little while.”

“Okay.”

With that milky voice, Zhao Fan left.

Elsewhere, the Yang family huddled together.

“I’m just saying, do we really have to get our blood drawn? What if the bone marrow matches?”

“Exactly, what if it matches?”

One after another, the questions gave Yang Qingqing and her parents a headache.

Mr. Yang said, “How likely is it that the bone marrow will match? Don’t get any ideas.”

“That’s right. If it was so easy to find a match, the Zhao family wouldn’t have come to us. All right, enough, let’s just get our blood drawn.”

Because of the Yang family’s hesitation, Zhao Fan caught up from behind. Staring at the slightly hurried figures ahead, his gaze flickered. After a few seconds, he curved his lips and followed along as if nothing had happened.

“Why are you walking so slowly?” Zhao Fan suddenly spoke, startling the Yang family members at the back. Clutching their chests, they darted forward.

“You, you…”

“What about me?”

“Nothing.”

The Yang family shrank their heads, obviously frightened by Zhao Fan.

“Heh—” Zhao Fan sneered. Cowards.

The Yang family members finished their blood draws in turn, and Mr. Yang said a few words to dismiss everyone.

Leaning against the wall, Zhao Fan asked calmly, “If any of them matches, what will you say?”

Mr. Yang replied with righteous conviction, “Of course they’ll donate. After all, it’s our granddaughter, a member of the Yang family. It’s their duty to donate.”

Mrs. Yang nodded in agreement. “That’s right, our granddaughter. It’s only natural for them to donate.”

“That’s good. I was worried no one would be willing if a match was found.”

Mr. Yang rubbed his hands. “You know, our family values affection. We wouldn’t let one of our own get into trouble.”

Mrs. Yang echoed him once more.

Zhao Fan’s gaze fixed on Yang Qingqing’s face. “Sister-in-law, do you think so too?”

Yang Qingqing’s heart skipped a beat. “O-of course.”

“Heh.”

Zhao Fan chuckled lightly and turned to leave.

The three Yangs stood where they were. Mr. Yang glared. “Is he ignoring us?”

His voice suddenly rose.

Yang Qingqing clenched her fingers. “So what if he ignores us? He’s just throwing his weight around because he has some money. Just bear with it for now—once we get the money, then we’ll talk.”

“Right.”

…

The next day, the Yang family’s ten match results came back: all failed.

Another day passed, and the remaining results arrived. Unexpected but not surprising, Yang Qingqing was a match.

Reading the hospital notice, a cold light flashed in Zhao Fan’s eyes. It was indeed true—the likelihood of a parent matching was much higher.

“The results are out? So? Who matched?” Zhao Haitian burst into the ward, panting.

“It’s Yang Qingqing.”

Silence fell.

After a few minutes, Zhao Haitian said, “She won’t agree to donate.”

Yang Qingqing cared most about her own health. Donating bone marrow could affect her well-being; she would never agree.

Zhao Fan snorted, “If she won’t agree, we’ll make her agree. How can a mother stand by if something happens to her child?”

“But she really won’t do it.”

Zhao Haitian’s mind was a mess. He squatted in the corner, speechless for a long time.

Persuading Yang Qingqing to agree was just too difficult.

That afternoon, Mr. Zhao took leave and rushed to the hospital. “Are the results out? Did anyone match?”

Zhao Haitian was tugging at his hair in the corner, Zhao Yun’er had been taken downstairs to play by Mrs. Zhao, and Zhao Fan, drowsy, was napping on a small bed nearby.

“Dad, you’re here.”

“Yes, so? What are the results?”

Mr. Zhao was focused solely on the results.

Yawning, Zhao Fan said, “Yang Qingqing matched.”

Zhao Haitian was startled awake. “She won’t agree to donate.”

Mr. Zhao looked around, frowning deeply. “If she won’t, the child can’t be treated. Fan, this…”

“Let’s try persuading her first. If it really doesn’t work, we’ll think of something else.”

Mr. Zhao sighed. “That’s all we can do.”

Zhao Haitian murmured, “She won’t agree.”

Zhao Fan and Mr. Zhao exchanged glances, both shaking their heads in exasperation. Zhao Haitian had no fight in him—pathetic.

“Dad, don’t tell the Yangs the result yet. Tomorrow, I’ll arrange to have dinner with Yang Qingqing and talk then.”

As he spoke, Zhao Fan picked up his coat from the side.

Zhao Haitian asked reflexively, “Where are you going?”

“There are some things I need to handle. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Oh.”

Zhao Haitian squatted back down in the corner.

Zhao Fan: “…”

Fine, if his brother wanted to squat, let him.

On his way home, Zhao Fan suddenly received a call from Mu Tianrong, saying that Christie’s in Hong Kong had already been contacted, and asking about Zhao Fan’s follow-up arrangements.

Hearing the words “Christie’s in Hong Kong,” Zhao Fan felt a little dazed, then slapped his forehead and said, “I’ll head over right away—should be about an hour or so.”

“All right.”

In Yangcheng, at Xia Xing.

As soon as Zhao Fan entered, Mu Tianrong came up from the side. “Let’s talk inside.”

“Okay.”

Half an hour later, staff from Xia Xing carefully moved the safe into the car. Zhao Fan and Mu Tianrong stood on the steps, both wearing serious expressions.

If the Song porcelain ‘Listening Wind’ vase were to be sent to Hong Kong via normal procedures, there would be nothing to worry about. But the involvement of the Bai family complicated things.

Whether it was Zhao Fan or Mu Tianrong, both had to consider another issue: would the Bai family try to sabotage things?

“Are you sure there won’t be any security issues?” Zhao Fan asked, watching the car carrying the ‘Listening Wind’ vase drive away.

Mu Tianrong glanced at him. “We’re putting it straight onto the plane, with security and staff accompanying it. Nothing will go wrong with our side. I’ve also arranged for people in Hong Kong—once it lands, it’ll go straight to Christie’s. As long as it’s authenticated, the vase will be under very tight protection.”

“Don’t worry, everything’s in place.”

Zhao Fan sighed. If it weren’t for Zhao Yun’er’s bone marrow match, he would have accompanied it himself. But it was all too sudden, so he had to stay for now.

“Let’s hope nothing goes wrong.”