A flash of displeasure crossed Yue Madam’s tear-reddened eyes—the kind of East Asian family authority being challenged, but having to endure it.
If this had happened during He Dongli’s internship or residency, she would have enthusiastically agreed to help, as if she really were a reincarnated Bodhisattva, believing she’d studied medicine to save all beings.
But now, approaching thirty, she understood—everyone is only human.
As the saying goes, “each profession has its own expertise.”
To be blunt, you pay professionals to do professional work.
Objectively, that’s how it is.
Subjectively, He Dongli had come to avoid unnecessary “humanistic care.”
From her years of clinical experience with all kinds of families and medical disputes, she knew: when a child has a psychological barrier, the ones who most need intervention are often not the child, but the parents and the whole family.
He Dongli gently refused Yue Madam’s desperate request, but with a caring tone, said she’d be happy to introduce a Psychologist she knew for Minmin.
Finally, she couldn’t help but add a few heartfelt words, “The body is the capital of revolution, Yue Madam. Of course studying is important, but people are always products of their environment. Containers can overflow or break—so can people. When I was a child, I never wanted to tell my parents anything, because I was afraid I’d hear, ‘Studying is more important than anything.”
“Even the most privileged classmate I knew, someone who seemed born with a silver spoon, complained that his parents didn’t love him—not the way he imagined, anyway. So he never wanted to tell them anything. When he got into fights, whether he won or lost, he’d get beaten again at home. He admitted himself—he wished his parents would support him unconditionally, just once. Once would be enough.”
He Dongli spoke gently and honestly.
Across from her, Yue Madam listened, a little stunned.
Liang Jianxing, sitting nearby, couldn’t help but glance at He Dongli several times.
Before long, his phone rang, just as Yue’s husband finished his online meeting and came downstairs.
While Yue Madam was introducing He Doctor to her husband, Liang Jianxing stepped outside to take the call.
He Dongli said what needed to be said.
After a few polite words, she indicated it was getting late and she needed to go back—there was a Director’s round tomorrow morning.
Tu Yumei had originally planned to use the weekend to arrange for He Dongli to visit Yue Madam’s home, hoping that her status as a doctor might help counsel or examine Minmin.
But being dragged here by her younger brother-in-law, and then seeing He Doctor so deftly handle things, she was left at a loss.
At this moment, her brother-in-law texted her: No matter what, keep He Doctor here a bit longer—wait for me.
Blood is thicker than water.
Even if Tu Yumei wasn’t satisfied with He Dongli’s aloofness and airs, she still sided with her brother-in-law.
She hurriedly stalled for time, saying she hadn’t driven and would wait for her brother-in-law so they could all go back together.
Less than ten minutes later, just as He Dongli was preparing another excuse, she was sitting with her back to the door.
She watched Tu Yumei chatting in the direction of the entrance, speaking as she stood up.
Yue Mister stood up too, being especially courteous.
Before He Dongli could turn around, the newcomer strode over and stopped at her left.
With a considerate tone, “Liang Madam, good evening.”
Yue Mister greeted him first, “Mr. Zong, I heard you’re staying at our hotel. Chen General is a VIP client of ours. I greeted your secretary earlier, but didn’t dare disturb you. Didn’t expect to run into you here.”
Zong Chi wore a simple white shirt and black pants—a casual look.
He shook hands with Yue Mister, saying he was very satisfied with the hotel, everything well arranged.
After a few rounds of polite conversation, Zong Chi finally turned back and asked if they were done talking, “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
Yue Mister immediately understood, saying they were finished and just about to see He Doctor off.
Zong Chi nodded, “Good. I just came to say hello to Dongli. She’s always so busy, even after work she’s still seeing patients. Their hospital should really set up a Bethune Charity Medical Award for her.”
Wherever Zong Chi went, he never thought his presence was too grand.
One hand in his pocket, polite yet confident, he waited his turn.
But Tu Yumei and the Yue couple couldn’t help but feel a suffocating arrogance, as if he could flip the table at any moment.
They tactfully said their goodbyes and made room for him.
Zong Chi sat across from He Dongli, watching her sip coffee.
He waited until she set her cup down, the porcelain clinking against the saucer, then suddenly reminded her, “You’ve got coffee on your nose.”
He Dongli didn’t react.
He pulled a tissue from the wooden dispenser and handed it to her.
He Dongli looked directly at him.
He was absolutely serious, “If you don’t wipe it, it’ll dry.”
In the end, He Dongli took it, dabbing at her nose as she heard Zong Chi cross-examine her, “Did you? Do you think I’m just messing with you for fun?”
He Dongli said nothing.
The tissue she used didn’t even show a mark—she folded it again and again.
A few seconds later, Zong Chi spoke again, “I bet you’re thinking, ‘What a coincidence to run into you again.’ But it’s not a coincidence, is it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“No, you didn’t. But that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Where’s Liang Jianxing?”
He Dongli abruptly changed the subject, looking up at him.
Zong Chi’s brows shifted slightly, “Why are you looking for him?”
“He’s helping me hold a seat. Should I go find him?”
“Not interested.”
He Dongli’s voice was cold.
Zong Chi smiled, picking up a piece of fruit from the table.
He wouldn’t actually eat these, especially leftovers.
He just pulled the fruit pick out and stuck it into another piece.
To He Dongli, it looked childish and pointless.
She couldn’t help but expose them, “He went to all this trouble to get me here, just to see you.”
“Mm, that’s exactly why I came down to see you too,” Zong Chi replied readily.
“He said you were here, so if I didn’t come say hello, it wouldn’t look good.”
With that, Zong Chi tossed away the fruit pick, wiped his hands with the tissue he’d just handed He Dongli.
“I mean my reputation. He thinks we’re just old classmates. You know me—maybe I’m a jerk, but I’m loyal to my friends. I don’t want outsiders laughing at me, thinking I’m just scrambling for coins.”
“You wouldn’t,” He Dongli replied with certainty, though she couldn’t help mocking him a little, “Liang Jianxing saw right through you. If he’s dancing in front of you like this, I doubt you’d still do business with him.”
“Oh? What did he see through?”
Zong Chi looked genuinely puzzled.
He Dongli wanted to say, “That trick might’ve worked when you were eighteen.”
Before she could answer, Zong Chi changed the subject with his old arrogance and sharpness, “You just said—you don’t believe…well, don’t believe then.”
Clearly, He Dongli was holding back some anger, but in an instant, that anger was sliced in half by a sharp, steely blade.
The next second, Zong Chi used her favorite retort from years ago: “That’s my business,”
“He, Dongli.”