Chapter 16

Chapter 16

The infirmary was quiet. Song Qiang glanced around as he entered, carrying the child, but saw no one.

He lowered his eyes, adjusted his grip on the child, and as he walked down the corridor, he peered into the rooms again—still empty.

"The child has been saying he didn't feel well since morning. Could you take a look?" Song Qiang said to the white-coated medic, his tone carrying just the right note of urgency and concern.

The medic didn’t waste any time. He quickly put down the medicine he was holding and strode over, immediately feeling Song Qingting’s forehead. It wasn’t very hot, but the child’s face was indeed pale.

"Let's check his temperature. It looks like he might have caught a chill? How could he catch a chill in such hot weather!?"

Doctors hate seeing people sick, and the one before him was no exception. Frowning deeply, he led Song Qiang to his office—a simple room with a desk cluttered with supplies, a chair, and a camp bed.

"Here, hold the child still. Let’s take his temperature."

As the mercury thermometer was tucked under the armpit, the chill made Song Qingting shudder instantly. Song Qiang’s expression remained unchanged as he kept a firm grip on the child.

The wait for the thermometer wasn’t short, and the room went quiet. The medic sat at the desk, scribbling something with a pen. Song Qiang feigned casualness as he asked, "I heard Commander Xie’s child is also sick? Did he catch a chill too?"

Xie Ran’s situation had been the talk of the medical unit these past two days. Even Song Qiang’s family had been curious about it when he returned home.

"It’s not easy to catch a chill in such hot weather. His child is suffering from trouble adjusting to the climate—folks from the south often have trouble when they first come here. By the way, how old is your child? I need to know to figure out the dosage."

"Four and a half," Song Qiang answered dutifully.

Unexpectedly, upon hearing this, the medic looked up in surprise, glanced at the child in Song Qiang’s arms—dressed nicely but scrawny—and said, "Why is he so thin? Not a good eater? That's not good. At four and a half, he’s not as sturdy as a three-year-old. No wonder he caught a chill—he’s too thin!"

He clucked his tongue, checked his watch, walked over, and retrieved the thermometer from under Song Qingting’s armpit. Sure enough, he had a low fever.

Low fevers in children are often the most troublesome.

Paying the medic no mind, Song Qiang stood up with the child in his arms. "Which ward is Commander Xie in? I want to pay him a visit."

With that, he made a move to leave, but the medic quickly stopped him. "Hey, hey, hey! You can visit anytime. Your child is sick—why visit right now?"

Then, with a hint of irritation in his voice, he jerked his chin, telling Song Qiang to sit back down. "Your child is sick, and you don’t seem too concerned. Where’s his mother? With a low fever now, it'll probably get worse tonight. Someone will need to take care of him."

Song Qiang’s original plans were disrupted. It was his fault—this was the first time he had brought the child to the infirmary. Before, he had mostly ignored the child's health.

But he couldn’t ruin his public image either, so he had to bite back his irritation and obediently follow the medic’s instructions, taking care of the little one in his arms.

As the sky darkened, Song Qiang glanced at the child sleeping on the bed, slowly stood up, and walked outside.

The infirmary wasn’t large, and he had been there often enough. After making a couple rounds, he easily found the right room. Through the open door, a gentle voice could be heard. Song Qiang’s steps slowed, and he stopped in his tracks outside the door, standing silently.

"Let your dad feed you the porridge. Mommy will hold you."

The soft, tender voice echoed inside. Song Qiang ground his teeth. The harmonious atmosphere of the family of three felt like salt in a wound to him. Standing outside the door, his gaze grew colder and colder.

He had been the one to meet her first.

A fresh wave of bitterness welled up inside him, but he could only swallow it down. Turning around, he strode away.

Xie Zhuoyun’s illness dragged on for three whole days. During the day, he was a lively little troublemaker, but as soon as night fell, he'd start burning up again. After three sleepless nights, Xie Ran had lost two pounds, with dark circles stark under his eyes.

Wen Sheng had also lost a little weight, but compared to Xie Ran, she was much better off—after all, the man hadn't let her stay up nights.

By the third night, Xie Ran had developed the habit of catnapping before checking the child’s temperature. Finally, the entire night passed without a fever, and the child slept peacefully without crying.

As dawn broke, Xie Ran managed to get a somewhat solid sleep, though he was awakened by the bugle call just two hours later. Automatically patting his fussing son, Xie Ran pulled the quilt up over his wife, picked up Xie Zhuoyun, and headed out.

Even though the three-year-old was relatively tall for his age, he still seemed small in Xie Ran’s arms. Rubbing his eyes sleepily, he obediently let Xie Ran carry him to wash up without any fuss. Under Xie Ran’s watchful eye, he clumsily tried to dress himself.

Xie Ran went to wash up as well. The hands on his watch kept moving, and by the time Xie Zhuoyun was still struggling with his clothes, Xie Ran had already finished.

"Let’s go, we’ll get breakfast."

Picking up the lunchbox, he tried to carry the child, but Xie Zhuoyun squirmed and insisted on walking by himself. "I walk! Little brother walk by himself!"

Even though Xie Ran had repeatedly tried to teach him to say "I," the little rascal still couldn’t grasp the difference between "you," "me," and "him." The more they tried to correct him, the more confused he became, so Wen Sheng had put a stop to it.

That kind of understanding would come with age—forcing it now would only cause unnecessary frustration.

Helpless, Xie Ran could only reluctantly agree, watching as the determined little boy trotted out the door in his sandals.

No matter how fast a child’s steps are, they’re no match for Xie Ran’s pace. Glancing at the time, Xie Ran suppressed his impatience and walked slowly with the little one to the canteen. After getting their food, the child still wanted to walk back on his own, but Xie Ran stuffed the lunchbox into his hands, scooped him up, and hurried home without a second thought.

Once the courtyard gate was closed, Xie Ran set the child down and left him to his own devices. Striding into the room, he found it dimly lit by the cloth curtain. The woman on the bed was still sound asleep. Xie Ran softened his steps, walked to the bedside, sat down, and gently kissed her cheek.

"Darling, time to wake up." He ruffled her hair, smoothing it down tenderly. As she began to stir, he slowly helped her sit up, watching as she leaned against him drowsily.

Wen Sheng yawned slowly and rubbed her eyes. "Did our son’s fever not come back last night?"

"No, he should be better now. He’s outside digging holes."

Xie Ran replied, nuzzling her lips and planting a gentle kiss on her chin, his actions filled with affection and tenderness.

Wen Sheng had long grown accustomed to his clingy behavior. She nodded silently, pushed Xie Ran away, and got up to wash up.

Seeing how much their son enjoyed digging, Xie Ran didn’t mind at all. In fact, he had even carved a small wooden shovel specifically for the child to dig up the yard. Nowadays, Wen Sheng had to tread carefully in the courtyard to avoid tripping over the holes.

Pulling her son—who had been busy digging since early morning—to his feet, Wen Sheng gave him a once-over. He did seem better, his little face flushed with healthy color.

"Let’s go in for breakfast," she said softly, brushing the dirt off his clothes and holding his hand affectionately as they walked inside. Mother and son washed their hands and sat at the table, waiting for Xie Ran to serve them.

Corn porridge, pickled vegetables, and boiled eggs—simple yet delicious. Xie Ran peeled an egg, ignoring his son’s eager gaze, and placed it in Wen Sheng’s bowl first.

Only then did he peel one for his son.

For himself, he simply cracked an egg open with his hands, splitting it in two. He gave the yolk to his son, ignoring his wife’s teasing look, and popped the egg white into his own mouth.

Breakfast was quickly finished, and Xie Ran had no more time to spare. He had already missed morning drills, and he couldn’t delay any longer. Before leaving, he made sure to prepare everything that could be done in advance.

Once the worried father finally left, Wen Sheng turned to Xie Zhuoyun, who was still gazing wistfully in the direction his father had gone. For a moment, she felt a twinge of jealousy.

Who would have thought that just a week ago, this child didn’t even know his father and thought he was just a photo? Now, he was already so attached to Xie Ran.

I suppose that’s what they call a father-son bond.

Taking care of the child wasn’t particularly exhausting. Xie Zhuoyun was easy to entertain—he didn’t like going out to play, but give him a shovel, and he’d happily dig up the entire yard. Wen Sheng sat on a stool, fanning herself with a palm-leaf fan, wondering if she should find him a playmate. But she herself wasn’t keen on socializing, especially in the hot weather, which made her feel lazy.

At noon, mother and son went to the canteen themselves and ran into an acquaintance—Song Qiang. He was carrying Song Qingting in one arm, the child listless and pitiful-looking against his chest. But Wen Sheng didn’t have any extra sympathy to spare. She quietly led Xie Zhuoyun past them, only to be stopped the next moment.

"Excuse me, Comrade Wen Sheng. We met four years ago—do you remember? You gave me something back then, and I’ve been looking for you ever since."

Song Qiang blocked Wen Sheng’s path, his smile gentlemanly and warm, with just the right touch of politeness. The canteen entrance was bustling with people at that moment, and Wen Sheng was taken aback by the interruption.

She looked at Song Qiang but had no memory of the incident. The next moment, she saw him pull a handkerchief from his pocket. "Four years ago, I was injured, and you took me to the hospital. You even left me this handkerchief. But I could never find you after that, so I couldn’t return it. What a coincidence to run into you here."

He paused for a moment, then continued, "I’ve been meaning to return this to you earlier and express my gratitude, but I never found the right opportunity."

His words sounded formal and measured, perfectly appropriate. If Wen Sheng hadn’t experienced those dreams, she might have let her guard down and even thought of him as a decent person.

But now, listening to him, she couldn’t help feeling there was something off about his words—though she couldn’t quite pinpoint what. Just looking at the handkerchief, both familiar and strange, she forced a perfunctory smile:

"It’s alright, it’s just a handkerchief. I’d long forgotten about it."

She spoke lightly, not even bothering to look at the handkerchief Song Qiang held out. With a polite, slight smile, she wanted to lead Xie Zhuoyun inside.

The handkerchief was neatly folded, resting in his palm, its edges slightly frayed from wear. Song Qiang slowly clenched his fist, veins bulging on his wrist, though hidden beneath his sleeve. He took a deep breath, his expression calm, then carried Song Qingting and followed closely behind Wen Sheng into the cafeteria.

Getting their food, sitting down, eating—though they seemed entirely unrelated, Wen Sheng couldn’t help but frown. The vague yet persistent gaze she felt fixed on her was extremely disgusting. Yet whenever she glanced over, he acted as if he hadn’t noticed at all.

What is he trying to do? Wen Sheng gritted her teeth, suppressing the urge to curse aloud. Quickly closing her lunchbox, she said, "The cafeteria is crowded. How about we go home to eat? After lunch, Mom will play with you for a while."

She gently ruffled her son’s soft black hair and spoke in a low voice. Only after he nodded did she pick up the lunchbox, and the two walked out of the cafeteria at the fastest speed.

This time, Song Qiang didn’t follow. He simply watched Wen Sheng’s retreating figure, then slowly lowered his gaze to Song Qingting, who was wolfing down his food beside him.

If it weren’t for that scheming woman who’d tricked him back then, how could he have ended up in this situation?

He curled his lips coldly. Since childhood, anything he wanted, he had always gotten. A glint of cold light flashed in his eyes. The thought of her enchanting beauty made his throat tighten. What he wanted, he would get.

No matter the means.

Even something that was missed—just a fleeting thought—he lowered his eyes and slowly curled his lips.

Author's Note:

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Hehehe, tomorrow is Saturday, and it's VIP entry!

Big red envelopes for the first ten readers who comment on the VIP chapter! Mwah mwah, love you all~