Can't Possibly Fall for My Wife Again After Rebirth, Right? - Chapter 70

Xie Qing’s words caused Xu Yingran to knit her brows tightly. She glanced at the students passing by and said to Xie Qing, “This isn’t the place to talk. Please follow me.”

The side of the sports field was deserted in the winter chill. Only then did Xu Yingran turn back to Xie Qing and ask, “Speak. What exactly do you want me to do?”

Xie Qing stood beside Xu Yingran, thinking for a moment before saying, “I know Yao Jin has a misunderstanding about me. In truth, President Lyu and I do not have that kind of relationship. She sponsored my education for a time, and I admire her greatly. I simply don’t want to see her suffering because of her daughter.”

As she spoke, Xie Qing pulled a set of documents from her bag and handed them to Xu Yingran. “These are copies of the hospital’s diagnostic reports. I hope you can pass them to Yao Jin and her father. President Lyu is scheduled for surgery next week. The risks are quite high. If it’s successful, she may live for another ten years. If not… I hope she can see her two closest family members one last time.”

Xu Yingran took the transparent folder and nodded after glancing at the laboratory slips inside. “I’ll give these to Jin, but I can’t guarantee whether they’ll actually go see her.”

Xie Qing offered a smile of relief and gave a slight bow. “Then I’ll leave it in your hands.”

When Xu Yingran handed the documents to Yao Jin, the girl didn’t react at first. It wasn’t until she saw whose name was on the report that the reality set in.

“She’s… dying?” Yao Jin looked up, her eyes wide with shock. “They say ‘scourges live for a thousand years,’ so how can she be dying?”

Xu Yingran remained silent, simply sitting beside Yao Jin and patting her shoulder.

“Xie Qing came to see me today—your mother’s assistant,” Xu Yingran said. “She said the surgery is next week. It’s risky; if it fails, she won’t make it off the table. If it succeeds, she has ten years at most.”

Yao Jin shook her head. “I don’t believe it. She looked so healthy. She was just fighting with me on my birthday. How could she be dying?”

At such a young age, it was difficult to process the concept of death, even when it involved a mother she claimed to loathe. She disliked Lyu Qing and wanted her to divorce her father, but she had never wished for her death. Yao Jin had long accepted that Lyu Qing didn’t love her; she only wanted her mother to let her and her father go so they could all start new lives—not to be handed a report stating her mother’s time was running out.

Remembering how the woman had come to celebrate her birthday just last week, Yao Jin’s head began to throb. Why is this happening?

“Jin,” Xu Yingran said, holding the pale girl’s hand. “Don’t be too sad. You need to take this home and talk to your father. Xie Qing said Lyu Qing wants to see you both.”

Yao Jin looked up, frowning. “See her?”

“Yes,” Xu Yingran whispered. “No matter what, she is your mother. You and your father are the two closest people to her in this world. I think when she came to your party last week, she truly wanted to try and get along with you.”

Yao Jin’s mind was a mess. She stared at the documents, still in a state of disbelief. “How could she be dying?” she asked painfully. “I had no idea.”

“You can’t blame yourself for not knowing,” Xu Yingran told her. “Call your father and see what he says.”

Yao Jin called Yao Heng during the lunch break. Not long after the call ended, classes resumed, but halfway through the first period, Yao Jin was called away and did not return for the rest of the afternoon. Xu Yingran didn’t know if she had gone to see Lyu Qing, but she knew Uncle Yao wasn’t a heartless man; surely he would go see his wife.

Rarely alone at school, Xu Yingran had a quick dinner at the cafeteria and returned to the classroom. Recently, the evening self-study teachers had been using the time to explain problems, leaving her little free time. She had to squeeze in extra effort to complete the study plan Fu Qiao had arranged for her.

At 10:50 PM, Xu Yingran’s call came through right on schedule.

Fu Qiao had been sitting on her bed waiting. It had become a habit; after washing up and reviewing the day’s lessons, she would be under the covers by 10:45 PM waiting for the phone to ring.

“Hello.” Fu Qiao’s voice held a lightness she didn’t even notice herself. Huddled in her warm bed, she asked, “Did you finish your study plan today?”

“Yeah, finished.” Xu Yingran’s voice sounded heavy, as if she were burdened with something.

“What’s wrong?” Fu Qiao asked curiously.

Xu Yingran sighed. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

When Xu Yingran told her about Yao Jin’s mother, Fu Qiao was silent for several seconds before asking worriedly, “Is Jin okay?”

“How could she be okay?” Xu Yingran said. “She was gone all afternoon and evening. I messaged her, but she hasn’t replied. I don’t know if she’ll be in tomorrow.”

“She’ll probably go, right? The surgery isn’t until next week.”

“Who knows.” Xu Yingran sighed. “I never heard anything about her mother having health issues before.”

In the world where Xu Yingran was 28, Yao Jin had never mentioned her mother, but she had never said she passed away either. Xu Yingran didn’t know if the brain tumor existed in both lifetimes, but she hoped for a positive outcome. However, she couldn’t promise Yao Jin that everything would be fine; after all, in this life, Fu Qiao had transferred schools, taking a completely different path than before.

“If she comes to school tomorrow, I’ll ask,” Xu Yingran told Fu Qiao. “Don’t worry too much.”

“Mm.” Fu Qiao nodded under her covers.

They chatted for a bit longer until 11:00 PM, when Xu Yingran dutifully said goodnight and hung up.

Fu Qiao stared at her phone for a moment before preparing to sleep. Just as she was about to turn off the light, her screen lit up with a message.

He Qiao: [Image] [Image] [Image]

Fu Qiao opened the three images, finding they were photos of exam questions.

He Qiao: My parents got me a set of practice papers today. They look quite good. Should I bring them to school for you tomorrow?

Fu Qiao knew some practice materials couldn’t be bought in bookstores; they were printed privately through certain channels. Many students at the provincial key school had similar papers, obtained by their parents at a high cost. Such materials were often kept secret, as a single point’s difference in this environment could mean outranking hundreds of people.

Fu Qiao didn’t have the money for such expensive materials; she usually stuck to teacher recommendations or bookstore workbooks. This was her first time seeing such “exclusive” questions. The more she looked, the more her eyes lit up. Her sleepiness vanished, replaced by an appreciation for how tricky and rigorous the questions were.

Fu Qiao: Your parents bought these for you to use. Is it okay to share them with me?

He Qiao: It’s fine. Didn’t we agree to get into the same university? We can only stay together if our levels are similar.

Fu Qiao smiled and typed: Alright then. I’ll treat you to a small cake tomorrow.

He Qiao: Great, I haven’t had a cake in a long time.

Fu Qiao: Why?

He Qiao: Because my parents think store-bought food is unclean. They never let me buy food from outside. It’s been like this since I was little.

Fu Qiao: I see…

Sitting at her desk, He Qiao looked at Fu Qiao’s message and replied: Maybe once we’re in university, we can go out for hotpot, fried dough sticks, and soup dumplings.

Fu Qiao sent an emoji, replying in shock: You can’t even eat hotpot?

He Qiao: I can, occasionally at family gatherings during holidays. But my parents don’t let me eat spicy food; they’re afraid it’ll irritate my stomach and affect my studies. They never take me out to eat it.

Fu Qiao: Then haven’t you missed out on so much fun?

He Qiao: I’m used to it, so it’s okay.

Noticing that Fu Qiao didn’t reply immediately and that it was past 11:00 PM—meaning they had to be up by 6:00 AM—He Qiao wrote: It’s late. Let’s talk at school tomorrow.

Fu Qiao: Okay, goodnight!~

He Qiao looked at the screen and smiled, typing: Goodnight.

Just then, a short-haired woman pushed the door open. She caught He Qiao sitting at her desk looking at her phone, a smile still lingering on her face. The woman frowned. “Who are you talking to that makes you smile so happily?”

“Mom.” He Qiao quickly put the phone down and cleared her desk. “Just my desk-mate. We were talking about the practice papers you bought me.”

The woman walked over, her expression grim, and held out her hand, signaling for the phone. He Qiao bit her lip and handed it over.

The phone had no password; privacy was not permitted in this household. The woman found the chat history with Fu Qiao and read it through from top to bottom.

“I have no objection to you sharing questions with a classmate,” the woman said, crossing her arms. “But you must realize that if she improves, your chances of getting into a top university decrease.”

He Qiao looked up to explain. “But we’re good friends. She’s a good student, ranked in the top fifty. With a little effort, she can get into the same school as me.”

The woman shook her head helplessly. “I don’t care who you’re friends with at school, but remember: no talking to boys for no reason, and no letting anything affect your studies. If your grades drop because of this person, don’t blame me for going to the school to find your teacher.”

He Qiao shook her head quickly. “I won’t let that happen, Mom.”

“You’d better not.”

The woman spoke coldly and didn’t return the phone. She turned to leave, adding, “Get some rest. You have school tomorrow. And don’t blame me for being harsh—I’m doing this all for your own good.”

With a “thud,” the door closed. He Qiao stared at the empty room, her heart heavy.

The parental mantra: It’s all for your own good.