085 What I Have Always Been Doing

Mu Qingcheng took a shower, almost entirely with cold water. Only then did her body slowly regain a sense of clarity. She found a white tracksuit, hastily dried her hair, and quickly went downstairs.

In the dining room, Old Master Mu was already seated comfortably. Seeing Mu Qingcheng approach, he beckoned her over to sit by his side. However, the chill radiating from her made him frown at once. He reached out, and his hand met the icy coldness of his granddaughter’s skin.

“Qingcheng, are you sick?”

“No,” Mu Qingcheng shook her head, letting him check her forehead for fever. It was, thankfully, cold to the touch.

At last, the old man’s worried expression softened, but he still admonished her, unable to fully set his mind at ease, “Drink some ginger tea later. Girls mustn’t catch cold; it’s bad for your health.”

“All right, I understand,” Mu Qingcheng replied obediently, nodding. She began to eat quietly.

...

Elsewhere, at the hospital.

Mu Qing exchanged a few casual words with a young woman named Xia Wan. Though she was even more reserved than he was, there was nothing negligent in her manner. Xia Wan’s coolness seemed innate—her natural state. Even a few words from her were a rare occurrence.

So, after they parted ways, Mu Qing went outside for some air, while Xia Wan turned on her heel and headed straight to the administrative building.

At that moment, outside the director’s office, the secretary seemed utterly unfazed by Xia Wan’s presence. Her expression was tinged with disdain as she regarded the aloof young woman, her tone full of scorn. “Wait here. The director is busy.”

“...Alright.” Xia Wan nodded, then turned and sat quietly to the side.

It was a full twenty minutes before the secretary, clearly reluctant, rapped on her desk and spoke, “Hey, you. You can go in now.”

Unperturbed, Xia Wan rose without a trace of emotion and entered, ignoring the secretary’s exaggerated eye-roll behind her.

Inside, a man lounged carelessly, legs crossed atop the desk, and even at Xia Wan’s appearance, he made no effort to compose himself. With a tone of arrogance and contempt, he gestured toward the stack of files on the side table, urging, “Everything’s there. Hurry up—I have other matters to attend to later.”

Xia Wan didn’t reply, nor did she spare him a glance. She went straight to the table and sat down.

Before her was a heap of patient files, filling the entire tabletop—most concerning difficult and dangerous cases. This was a task Xia Wan undertook every couple of weeks: cleaning up the mess left by her half-brother in exchange for her living expenses.

In essence, nearly all the hospital’s critical cases were handled by Xia Wan’s hands.

Now, as Xia Wan swiftly flipped through each file, jotting down diagnoses and treatment plans, she came upon a familiar case at the very bottom. The name on the file was unmistakable: Mu Qing.

Her eyes flickered. She reached out and pulled the file aside. Such an unusual move caught her “brother’s” attention, but before he could speak, the usually silent girl surprised him by asking, “Xu Maoyan, why has this case been delayed for so long?”

“Tch.” Annoyed at being addressed by name, Xu Maoyan was just about to answer when his phone rang. After only two or three seconds on the call, his expression changed abruptly, and he replied warily, “Wait a moment.”

He hung up, strode over, grabbed Xia Wan’s arm, and roughly hauled her from the sofa. “You should go. Come back in a couple of days.”

Xia Wan hadn’t finished reading Mu Qing’s file before Xu Maoyan pushed her out of the office. She barely had time to steady herself before the door slammed shut with a bang—a hasty action that carried with it a scent all too familiar to Xia Wan: the unmistakable aroma of conspiracy.