Volume One, Chapter Two: Upholding Justice

Shen Hanchuan’s face was etched with anxiety as he scooped Jiang Yao into his arms and rushed out, slamming the door behind him. Shen Zhaowu withdrew her gaze, her expression cold and indifferent.

The acrid scent of disinfectant permeated the air. The snow-white walls made her skin seem almost translucent, devoid of the slightest blush of blood. She lifted her slender wrist and picked up the family portrait by her pillow.

The photograph captured all six members of their family. The photo paper was fragile, carefully mounted in a wooden frame. Yet a faint crack marred the glass—a remnant of when Jiang Yao had broken it.

Over the past half year, Jiang Yao’s clumsy hands had ruined many things that Shen Zhaowu treasured. Her delicate, bony fingertips traced the frame’s edge. Lowering her eyelids, she resolved that, this time, not a single thing she cared for would fall into Jiang Yao’s hands.

Shen Hanchuan, worried about Jiang Yao’s health, had left in such haste he’d forgotten to close the door. With the door wide open, Shen Zhaowu could hear every sound in the corridor with perfect clarity.

…

Shen Hanchuan called for a doctor again and again. No one paid him any mind. Brow furrowed, he strode to the nurses’ station, still carrying the unconscious Jiang Yao. “Don’t you have any sense of duty? Can’t you see how serious the patient’s condition is? Yao has congenital heart disease!”

“If anything happens to her, can your hospital bear the consequences?!”

Only a young nurse was on duty at the station. Intimidated by Shen Hanchuan’s harsh expression, she stammered, “S-sorry, sir. Just now, the hospital received a very important guest whose condition was critical. All the doctors on duty are in an emergency meeting to discuss a treatment plan.”

In other words, they had no time for him.

Shen Hanchuan, proud as he was, could not bring himself to vent his anger on an innocent nurse. He suppressed his fury. “There isn’t a single doctor available?”

The nurse nodded. She glanced at Jiang Yao, whose eyes remained tightly shut, and thought to herself that Miss Shen was even more beautiful. “May I check this lady’s pulse?”

Shen Hanchuan was skeptical, but reasoned that, at the very least, the nurse had some training—better than nothing. Besides, there was little else to be done.

He set Jiang Yao on a nearby chair. The nurse took Jiang Yao’s pulse—

And discovered…

The pulse was steady and strong, as robust as a seasoned ox! The nurse discreetly regarded Jiang Yao’s rosy complexion: “…”

She certainly hasn’t missed a meal, the nurse mused.

She had no doubt that this so-called congenital heart disease patient could spring up, plow two fields, and run a three-kilometer marathon without breaking a sweat.

Still, facing Shen Hanchuan’s icy glare, she spoke cautiously, “Shall I put this lady on an IV drip with some glucose?”

“…?”

Shen Hanchuan barely resisted the urge to curse aloud. Veins pulsed at his temples, his face darkening. “No need, thank you.”

Who would treat congenital heart disease with a glucose IV? Ridiculous.

Fuming, he carried Jiang Yao away.

Shen Zhaowu, having overheard everything, curled her lips in amusement.

How interesting.

But as for this important figure the nurse mentioned…

Shen Zhaowu pondered, rubbing her throbbing temple. Exhaustion overcame her, and she closed her eyes, refusing to think further. Whatever storm came, she would face it head-on. After all, she had already died once—what more was there to fear?

Unexpectedly, the moment her eyes closed, she drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep, undisturbed until dawn.

The next morning, nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

Lying in her phone was a message from Shen Yanzhou: [The car is downstairs. I’m here to take you home.]

Brief, to the point, without a wasted word.

She had always believed her eldest brother, Shen Yanzhou, was cold and distant, never letting anyone get close—until she saw the gentle, tender expression he wore for Jiang Yao. Only then did Shen Zhaowu understand.

No one is born cold-hearted; it’s simply that she was never the right person.

With a sigh, Shen Zhaowu swiftly dressed and left the hospital.

Outside, a sleek, obsidian Cayenne stood out, its license plate a string of five eights—something money alone could hardly buy.

The window rolled down, revealing Shen Yanzhou’s finely sculpted face. One hand rested on the wheel, his shirtsleeve rolled up to expose a wrist adorned with a sandalwood bracelet inscribed with Sanskrit, tempering his natural air of severity with a touch of warmth.

Drawing a deep breath, Shen Zhaowu approached.

To her surprise, Jiang Yao was there as well.

Jiang Yao stepped out from the passenger seat, looking far healthier than the day before. She gently took Shen Zhaowu’s hand. “Zhaozhao, my dear, Yanzhou and I came to pick you up.”

“Yanzhou has been busy with company matters—he didn’t get home until just before dawn and hasn’t had a proper rest. In his heart, you’re truly important, you know~”

At the sight of Jiang Yao, the smile at Shen Zhaowu’s lips faded.

In the past, when Jiang Yao made such veiled remarks, Shen Zhaowu would only worry about her brother’s health and refuse to trouble him again, sending the driver instead. She would use the excuse of inconveniencing Yanzhou to draw closer to him. But with Jiang Yao sowing discord, she and Shen Yanzhou had grown distant.

Remembering how, in her past life, Shen Yanzhou had cast her out without hesitation, Shen Zhaowu found herself unable to seek intimacy, even if she wished to.

She bypassed Jiang Yao, got into the passenger seat, buckled her seatbelt, and remained silent throughout.

Shen Yanzhou glanced sideways at his sister, studying her for a long moment, momentarily stunned.

He wondered just how much force Shen Hanchuan had used—the imprint of a slap was still clear on the girl’s face, even turning faintly purple. There was a certain cruel beauty in those marks on her delicate features.

Shen Zhaowu was beautiful—her brows as distant as mountains, lips like a budding rose, skin pale and flawless. Even the massive billboard of a popular actress nearby seemed dull in comparison.

Shen Yanzhou had always been aloof. Seven years older than Shen Zhaowu, he shared little in common with her, yet she had always clung to him. In the past, when she was wronged, she would have thrown herself into his arms in tears, demanding justice.

But now—

Shen Zhaowu sat quietly, neither urging him nor responding to his obvious confusion. Sensing his probing gaze, she felt a flicker of irony but kept her face impassive. “What is it, big brother?”

He clenched his fist and brought it to his lips, his voice low and magnetic. “Does your face still hurt?”

Startled, Shen Zhaowu looked at him.

As she met his gaze, he quickly schooled his expression into sternness. “Cat got your tongue? You get slapped and now you can’t even speak?”

He was angry—angry at Shen Hanchuan for striking too hard, and at Shen Zhaowu for being so weak, for not even trying to dodge.

Fearing her brother might slap her as well, Shen Zhaowu pressed her lips together. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, big brother. Second Brother lost his temper for a moment; he didn’t mean it.”

Hearing her so quick to excuse Shen Hanchuan, Shen Yanzhou gave a strange, ambiguous laugh.

A cold snort. “How considerate of you.”

Shen Zhaowu lowered her eyes, a dull ache blooming in her chest.

She couldn’t help but retort, her tone laced with frost. “And if I weren’t? Second Brother slapped me once—are you going to do it again?”

The car screeched to a sudden halt.

Jerked by the inertia, Shen Zhaowu’s body slammed forward with force!