Chapter Thirty-Eight: Printing the Contract

"Who said we weren't going to use Yang Qingqing's marrow?" With a casual tone, Zhao Fan's rhetorical question made Zhao Haitian turn his head, his face full of surprise.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we'll still need to use Yang Qingqing's marrow."

"But she wants five million, and that doesn't even include the recuperation costs."

Zhao Fan smiled, walked down a step, and sat down.

"Let's not worry about the money for now. Big brother, let me ask you: for Yun'er, how far are you willing to go?"

"What do you mean?" Zhao Haitian asked again.

"I want you to get a divorce."

Divorce.

The cigarette in Zhao Haitian's hand was bent, its tip still slowly burning.

"Big brother, after this is over, Yang Qingqing won't stay with you. All she cares about is money. She won't contribute anything to Yun'er's treatment or her recovery; she might even become a burden. In this situation, do you really want to keep this marriage going?"

If Yang Qingqing had shown even a slightly different attitude toward Zhao Yun'er's illness, Zhao Fan would never have suggested divorce.

Glancing at Zhao Haitian, Zhao Fan casually tossed away the cigarette in his brother's hand—it was about to burn his fingers.

Zhao Haitian bowed his head, seemingly oblivious to everything.

After a long silence, Zhao Fan finally heard him ask, his voice trembling, "Does it have to be a divorce?"

"What do you think, big brother?"

Zhao Haitian took a deep breath. "If I really divorce her, what about the child? Yun'er can't bear to lose her mother."

Zhao Fan fell silent. The child was indeed a problem, but if the marriage continued, Yang Qingqing would become a burden on the Zhao family.

He could accept Zhao Haitian and Zhao Yun'er, but not a greedy, ungrateful woman.

And there was a more crucial point: he needed to know where Zhao Haitian's loyalties lay.

He glanced at his brother, then decided to give him a choice.

"Big brother, I opened a shop. The money for Yun'er's treatment comes from the supermarket's profits."

"I thought you said... it was an investment?" Zhao Haitian's voice dropped suddenly.

Zhao Fan looked ahead and spoke calmly, "There never was any investment. All of it was money I earned myself."

"Then..."

"If I really had five million, I wouldn't hesitate to spend it. But the truth is, I don't. That claim was just to intimidate the Yang family."

Silence spread.

Zhao Haitian wiped his face. "So what you're saying is, everything you told them before... it was all a lie?"

Zhao Fan nodded. "Yes, all of it."

"You—you lied to them? Brother, how could you..."

"I did deceive them. But I can still pay for Yun'er's treatment. Big brother, I've laid everything out. What are your thoughts?"

"I... I..." Zhao Haitian bowed his head, his fingers repeatedly running through his hair, clearly tangled in thought.

Zhao Fan was in no hurry and waited patiently for his brother to speak.

Pedestrians walked by; Zhao Fan gazed into the curtain of rain, eyes narrowing slightly.

Big brother, let me see which side you choose.

Half an hour later, Zhao Haitian looked up, his eyes bloodshot. "Brother, let's give up on the treatment."

"What?" Zhao Fan was stunned. "Wait, why not treat her?"

"It's not easy for you to run that supermarket, and the follow-up treatment for Yun'er is far too expensive. I can't let you shoulder it alone. In short, it's all—"

Thud!

Zhao Haitian was kicked aside, tumbling onto the steps.

"Brother, what are you doing?"

"What am I doing? Teaching you a lesson for being foolish! I told you I could pay for it, so what's with this act of generosity?"

Zhao Fan was so angry he laughed. He'd thought Zhao Haitian would still side with Yang Qingqing, but it turned out he wasn't, only his thinking had veered off course.

"I'm not pretending, brother. They want five million before they'll agree to the transplant, and then there's the recuperation cost. Where is all that money going to come from?"

"Who said I'm going to pay five million?"

Zhao Haitian was dumbfounded. "If you don't pay five million, how will you get her to agree to the transplant?"

Zhao Fan sneered. "Solutions are made by people. I want Yang Qingqing's marrow, but she won't get five million."

A mother donating her own marrow to her daughter—what right does she have to ask for money? Even getting recuperation costs is generous.

"She won't agree to it."

"I'll make her agree."

There are always ways. Zhao Fan didn't have many tricks, but he could read Yang Qingqing's mind. What would a woman who sees five million as her due do when confronted with someone willing to donate marrow for free?

Yawning, Zhao Fan said, "Big brother, go back to the ward. I'll handle this. As for the divorce, think it over."

The rain poured down as Zhao Fan stepped into the downpour.

Zhao Haitian, clutching his head, stared at the figure ahead. Suddenly, panic rose in his heart, as if he would regret it forever if he didn't follow through.

But if he divorced, what about the child?

...

At 6:50 that evening, Zhao Fan arrived at Lao Hong's Private Kitchen, where Xu An and Mu Tianrong were already waiting.

As soon as he walked in, Xu An stood up at once.

"Mr. Zhao."

"Mr. Xu."

With the formality out of the way, Zhao Fan took a seat and got straight to the point.

"Let's talk about the contract."

Xu An relaxed considerably. "Alright."

Neither side was one to waste time. In just over ten minutes, all the contract details were settled.

Mu Tianrong, as witness, asked the waiter to bring out a printer.

"A lot of people come here to negotiate contracts, so the owner keeps these things handy so people can get right to business," Mu Tianrong explained.

Zhao Fan smiled, unconcerned.

Once the contract was printed, Xu An pulled out the property deed he carried with him.

"This is the property deed for the market."

"You're certainly well prepared, Mr. Xu. But at this hour, you can't transfer the property, can you?"

"Your name is already on the deed, Mr. Zhao."

Xu An slid the document across the table to Zhao Fan.

As if fearing a misunderstanding, he explained, "It's just a formality for now. To make it yours, we'd still need to go through the official process."

Zhao Fan's earlier displeasure faded. "Aren't you worried I might go back on my word?"

"With your integrity, Mr. Zhao, you wouldn't break your promise over such a sum."

"When it comes to nerve, you're the one with it, Mr. Xu. If it were me and I wasn't ninety percent sure, I wouldn't dare take such a risk."

As they spoke, Zhao Fan signed the contract and slid it over to Xu An, who also signed.

With that, their collaboration was sealed.

At last, Xu An could finally relax, a smile breaking out on his face.

"Mr. Zhao, dinner's on me tonight."

"No problem."

After that, Xu An excused himself to use the restroom.

Zhao Fan raised his glass of water and toasted, "Thank you, President Mu."

Mu Tianrong waved it off. "No need for thanks—it's you who showed Xu An the benefit. Otherwise..."

Their eyes met, and both men smiled faintly.

Some things need not be spoken aloud, as long as both parties understand.

When the banquet ended, they each went their separate ways.