Chapter Forty-Two: The Yang Family Compromises

As soon as the door opened, Yang’s father caught sight of the group of men outside and instinctively stepped back.

“Who… who are you?”

“Who we are doesn’t matter. What matters is why we’re here.”

“Then… why are you here?” Yang’s father stammered, fear making him retreat further into the house.

As he backed away, the men outside all crowded in.

Yang Qingqing screamed, “It’s that man who was following behind Zhao Fan before—his name is Fan Hong!”

Fan Hong poked his head out from the back, waving and smiling. “Hello again. We meet once more.”

Now Yang’s father recognized Fan Hong too, and looking at the others, a deep unease welled up in his heart.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“We don’t want anything much. Just dropping by to say hello. Boss, this is the woman whose bone marrow matched before mine.”

“Oh, so it’s her? I heard she’s also the mother of that child?”

“Yes, she’s that child’s mother.”

Chen Jianyu stroked his chin. “What’s her name again?”

“Yang Qingqing.”

“Yang Qingqing—tsk, such a gentle-sounding name. Doesn’t fit someone who’d abandon her own child.”

“Well, as the saying goes, appearances can be deceiving. It’s not unusual,” Fan Hong replied.

Chen Jianyu and Fan Hong volleyed back and forth, not giving the Yang family a chance to speak.

Time ticked by, and soon neighbors began to appear outside the Yangs’ door.

“Old Yang, why are there so many people at your place?”

“Yeah, Old Yang, what’s going on in there?”

Yang’s father blanched. “You… you all…”

Chen Jianyu turned around and stretched out his arm, about to close the door.

“This is a private matter, please leave,” he said politely, but the people outside sensed something was wrong and blocked the door from closing.

“What kind of private matter needs so many people to block the door? I’m telling you, hitting people is against the law.”

“That’s right, it’s illegal,” echoed others.

Glancing at the hands pushing the door, Chen Jianyu smiled. “You’re not leaving?”

“No, you need to set our minds at ease.”

Yang’s father was inwardly wailing. “You… you should go. He’s right, it really is…”

“What’s the rush?” Chen Jianyu said, flexing his wrist. “Since they want to know, let’s tell them. Fan Hong, explain it to them.”

“Alright.”

After ten minutes, the neighbors drifted away, dazed, while the three members of the Yang family stood inside, faces pale and bodies rigid.

It was easy to imagine that whatever had just been said would soon spread far and wide.

Their family was finished.

At that moment, that was the only thought in Yang Qingqing’s mind.

Chen Jianyu and Fan Hong exchanged a look, then began smashing things in the house.

Before leaving, Chen Jianyu deliberately raised his voice. “I’m telling you, that guy isn’t playing straight—three grand for bone marrow? Let’s go teach him a lesson.”

The stairwell fell into silence.

Yang’s mother collapsed onto the floor, wailing and beating her thighs. “What terrible fate have I brought upon us?”

Yang’s father clutched his chest. “Medicine… my medicine…”

“Old Yang, what’s wrong?” Yang’s mother wiped her tears and scrambled to find his pills.

All this time, Yang Qingqing stood motionless, completely numb.

“Old Yang, are you feeling better?”

“I’m fine. Qingqing, come here.”

Yang Qingqing jolted. “Dad, our family is finished.”

“It’s not over,” Yang’s father shook his head. “Not yet. Now, you’ll go to the hospital and tell the Zhao family we agree to the bone marrow transplant. Not only that, we’ll also pay twenty thousand toward the surgery.”

“Twenty thousand? Dad, that little brat—”

“Shut up!” Yang’s father roared, triggering another fit of coughing.

“I’m telling you, Yang Qingqing, if you want our family to keep living well here, you’ll do exactly as I say. Don’t mention anything that happened before.”

They’d been blinded by greed, forgetting that the Zhao family wasn’t theirs to manipulate. That Zhao Fan, truly…

Yang’s father closed his eyes. He’d been foolish.

Opening them again, he saw Yang Qingqing still standing there. “What are you waiting for? Go!”

Yang Qingqing opened her mouth, lowered her head, and said quietly, “I understand.”

Yang’s father took several deep breaths, then turned to his wife. “You go as well.”

“That’s… not necessary, is it? Qingqing can handle it.”

“You know what Qingqing’s like. I’m worried she’ll—never mind. Just go after her. Don’t let her make a mess.”

“Alright,” Yang’s mother replied, hurrying after Yang Qingqing.

Yang’s father clutched his chest, his face ashen.

At the hospital.

Zhao Fan was cheerfully peeling an apple for Zhao Yuner. “Watch, Uncle’s going to do a magic trick for you.”

He made a few quick cuts, and under the little girl’s adoring gaze, transformed the apple into a small rabbit.

“There you go—a cute little bunny for the cutest Yuner. And it tastes delicious too.”

Zhao Yuner took a big bite, her cheeks puffed out adorably.

“Is it good?”

“Mhm.”

Zhao’s mother and Zhao Haitian, on the other side of the bed, both couldn’t help but smile.

Zhao Haitian said, “I never thought my little brother would be so good with kids.”

Zhao’s mother nodded. “Yes, indeed.”

On the next bed, a middle-aged man watched Zhao Fan interacting with the child and smiled as well.

The atmosphere was warm and pleasant when suddenly, with a bang, the door was kicked open from the outside. Everyone turned instinctively to see Yang Qingqing standing in the doorway, face full of fury.

Zhao Yuner’s eyes lit up. “Mom!”

Yang Qingqing ignored her, striding straight to Zhao Fan. “You’re the one who sent them, aren’t you?”

Setting down the fruit knife, Zhao Fan calmly met her gaze. “Who did I send?”

“Fan Hong and his people—they’re your doing, aren’t they? Are you happy now that my house has been wrecked?”

“Hmm?” Zhao Fan’s tone was cool, “You’re not making much sense. What are you trying to say?”

“Mom, hug!” Zhao Yuner called, reaching out her hands, hoping for an embrace. But as soon as she touched Yang Qingqing, her mother shoved her away hard.

Yang Qingqing used so much force that Zhao Yuner toppled over.

“Yuner!”

Zhao Haitian shouted, instinctively reaching out to catch her, but he wasn’t fast enough.

The little girl crashed to the floor, the pain so intense she burst into tears, crying for her father.

“Daddy! Daddy…”

Zhao Haitian scooped her up and rushed out, seeing she was bleeding.

Zhao’s mother hurried after them.

In the chaos, Yang’s mother arrived, saw the fleeing figures, then turned to the confrontation between Zhao Fan and Yang Qingqing. Her legs gave way, and she collapsed to her knees.

“Yang Qingqing!” Zhao Fan ground out her name, his eyes burning with rage.

Yang Qingqing swallowed hard. “I… I didn’t mean to.”

Grabbing her by the collar, Zhao Fan raised his fist. But seeing the terror in her eyes, he eventually let it fall.

“I don’t hit women. But you’d better pray nothing happens to that child. Come with me.”

He ignored Yang’s mother and dragged Yang Qingqing straight toward the operating room, uncertain whether a child with leukemia could withstand such a blow.

Outside the operating room, Zhao Haitian and Zhao’s mother were crouched by the door.

“What did the doctor say?”