Zhao Jun walked through the corridor, greeting neighbors. The hallway was narrow and crowded; he had to tread carefully. The noise grated on his nerves.
Finally, he reached his own door. Compared to the lively warmth of other households, the Zhao home felt empty and cold.
Zhao Jun had only set up a single stove inside. The spot in the corridor that technically belonged to his family for cooking had already been taken over by a neighbor.
When the neighbor saw Zhao Jun return, he greeted him a bit awkwardly. “Deputy Captain Zhao, you’re back? Have you eaten? If not, want to join us for a few bites?”
That’s what he said, but Zhao Jun knew it was just a polite formality.
“I’ve eaten. No need.”
The neighbor visibly relaxed and quickly added, “Alright then, once I’m done cooking, I’ll clear this spot for you.”
Zhao Jun nodded and went into his home.
The room was a mess. Children’s shoes were tossed onto the bed, a schoolbag lay on the table, and a cup had tipped over. Zhao Dong and Zhao Xi were lying at the foot of the bed asleep, each still clutching a comic book. The house was so cluttered there was barely room to step; empty lunch containers were left on the floor…
Hearing the door open, Zhao Dong looked up. When he saw it was his father, he turned his face away without even greeting him.
Zhao Xi rubbed her eyes and called out softly, “Daddy.”
Zhao Jun pressed his fingers to his temple, reminding himself for the ten-thousandth time not to lose his temper.
Back then, he had left in a hurry and had no choice but to leave the children with relatives in the countryside. By the time he completed the procedures in the army and handled everything before returning, six months had already passed.
Those six months had changed Zhao Dong and Zhao Xi completely.
He had entrusted them to his maternal uncle’s family. They had agreed on fifteen yuan per month until he was discharged. Before leaving, Zhao Jun had even humbled himself to his brothers, asking them to help look after the children—whatever issues existed between adults could be discussed, but the children were still their nephews.
Yet he had never imagined his brothers would completely wash their hands of it, not even checking in.
Nor was his uncle’s household as harmonious as he had assumed. Fifteen yuan a month—even in the city that was more than enough. Zhao Jun thought he had arranged things well. As long as he paid enough, wasn’t childcare simple?
But when he returned, although the children weren’t thinner or mistreated, their eyes were evasive. They were nothing like their former lively, mischievous selves.
His uncle’s family claimed the children had become shy, but after asking around the village, Zhao Jun learned the truth. The fifteen yuan he gave was held by his uncle, who skimmed a bit but, more importantly, didn’t distribute it among his sons’ households. His cousins’ wives grew resentful—two extra mouths to feed meant more work for them, while the money stayed in the elders’ hands.
Technically, since the family hadn’t split, it wasn’t unreasonable for the elders to control the money.
But that was fifteen yuan a month!
Zhao Jun had never imagined that paying more would lead to constant quarrels in his uncle’s household. The cousins’ wives fought daily—one returning to her parents’ home, the others arguing endlessly.
In such an environment, Zhao Dong and Zhao Xi overheard talk about how their stepmother had been executed, how their father didn’t want them anymore. They grew quieter and more withdrawn by the day.
In just six months, the once-bright children became gloomy and sullen. When they saw Zhao Jun again, they didn’t even call him “Dad.”
Zhao Jun wanted to blame someone, but there was no one to blame.
He had set the price of fifteen yuan himself. His brothers had already broken ties and had no obligation to help. His uncle’s family might have quarreled, but they hadn’t deprived the children of food or clothing.
Who could he reason with?
Thinking back to his previous life, he had been busy with work and admittedly hadn’t handled the children’s daily upbringing personally. But he hadn’t ignored them either. Every time he came home, he would talk to them. Back then, Zhao Dong and Zhao Xi had been so obedient.
They would call him “Dad” as soon as they saw him, understood he worked hard in the city, brought him tea when he got home, and chattered about what they learned at school. When the children made mistakes, he would remind Wang Ying to correct them.
Zhao Jun had always believed raising children was simple. How hard was it to provide food and clothing? He set the key educational philosophy and direction; his partner just needed to follow his lead and ensure the children’s material needs were met.
When Zhao Dong graduated from university in his previous life, Zhao Jun had even been invited to speak on stage as an exemplary parent, confidently sharing his parenting philosophy. He had been interviewed by several media outlets and became known as “the entrepreneur who knows best how to raise children.”
Never had he imagined that one day he would doubt the very parenting methods he was so proud of.
After bringing the children to the city, he had spent considerable time trying to win them over. Zhao Xi was easier—she was only five or six and didn’t remember much. But Zhao Dong was different. He was already eight, now nearly nine—the most troublesome age.
No matter how Zhao Jun coaxed him, he couldn’t get a pleasant response.
Sometimes Zhao Jun couldn’t understand it. In his previous life, Zhao Dong had been so sensible and worry-free. Among his successful entrepreneur peers, none had sons as capable as his. Most were spoiled second-generation heirs or useless wastrels who squandered newfound wealth. Only his two children had been outstanding—Zhao Dong not only inherited the family business but expanded it, and Zhao Xi became a famous star early on.
Everything had been perfect following the previous life’s trajectory. Why was this child so stubborn now?
Zhao Jun roughly tidied up the room, poured himself some warm water, and ate the buns with it.
Suddenly he heard Zhao Dong’s voice, thick with resentment. “You went on another blind date.”
Zhao Jun didn’t respond. He was afraid that if he spoke, he wouldn’t be able to control his temper and might hit Zhao Dong again.
But Zhao Dong didn’t care about reading his father’s mood. He jumped off the bed and shouted, “If you find me another stepmother, I’ll never come back!”
Zhao Jun endured and endured, but finally snapped at the end of this long day.
“Zhao Dong! Who are you threatening? Since when do you get to manage your father’s affairs?”
Tears shimmered in Zhao Dong’s eyes. “I will manage! If you find a stepmother, I’ll leave! You don’t love me or my sister at all—you just want to marry some woman! Then go ahead and marry! Once you do, you won’t be my dad anymore!”
Zhao Jun stared in disbelief, his chest aching. “Why do you think I’m looking for a woman? It’s for you two!”
Zhao Dong shouted back, “It’s not! It’s for yourself! The stepmother you found before was for yourself! You never even asked me! The stepmother you found made Grandma so angry she died, wuuu… I don’t want a stepmother—I want Grandma, waaaah…”
At the mention of the late Old Madam Zhao, it was as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water over Zhao Jun’s head, dousing his anger instantly. He felt chilled to the core.
Zhao Dong was still wailing loudly. Outside, it had already gone quiet—Zhao Jun knew without thinking that plenty of ears were pressed close, eavesdropping.
Weakly, he said, “You don’t understand. This is adult business.”
But Zhao Dong didn’t care about understanding anything right now. He just wanted to cry—crying with his eyes squeezed shut, heart-wrenching and hoarse.
Zhao Jun felt utterly defeated. He couldn’t persuade his son; now his daughter had started crying along with him. He couldn’t promise not to remarry—he simply couldn’t. He knew exactly what the root problem in this household was: they lacked a woman who could take care of things at home for him.
Rubbing his hair in frustration, Zhao Jun thought about how he had been back in the city for over a year, yet the career plans he had envisioned hadn’t even begun.
In his previous life, he had retired from the army a year later and gone to work at the Supply and Marketing Cooperative. In this life, he retired a year earlier, but the only positions offered were at the sugar factory’s security department or in logistics at a small factory.
He had asked around. His battalion commander hinted subtly that the Wang Lingling incident had, in the end, still affected him. The best work units would no longer consider him.
However, the commander had secured him housing benefits. Once he transferred to civilian work, his military service years would count toward work seniority, qualifying him for a small allocated apartment.
Zhao Jun knew there was no turning back. Between the two options, he chose the sugar factory’s security department.
The logistics job at the small factory would have been easy, but Zhao Jun knew that once policies opened up in the future, small factories would collapse, whereas large factories might survive restructuring. Especially the Nanshao Sugar Factory—it would successfully restructure over twenty years later and remain standing.
The platform mattered.
If he couldn’t go to the Supply and Marketing Cooperative, he believed he could still seize opportunities at the sugar factory using knowledge from his previous life.
He had planned it all out. Step one: build good relationships with colleagues and become head of the security department. At that level, he would gain access to factory leadership. Just like in his previous life, he could cultivate those connections and then transfer himself into a department with real power.
Once in a department with authority, he would accumulate connections. When the economy opened up, he could be among the first to enter business and soar with the help of his network.
The vision was beautiful. Reality was harsh.
In over a year, family troubles had left him no breathing room. Forget building relationships or being promoted to department head.
He knew clearly—if things continued this way, he would be stuck as deputy captain in the security department forever.
That was why he urgently needed to find a woman.
After Zhao Dong and Zhao Xi cried for a while, a neighbor knocked on the door.
“Deputy Captain Zhao? Why are Dongdong and Xixi crying? You didn’t hit them, did you? Don’t raise your hand over small things. Kids just need coaxing…”
Zhao Jun opened the door and forced a smile. “Sorry about that. I’ll calm them down. Sorry for disturbing you.”
“No disturbance. I’m just worried they’ll cry their throats sore. They have school tomorrow—if they cry themselves sick, that’s more trouble. Give them some ginger sugar water. And don’t hit them again.”
Zhao Jun murmured agreement and politely saw the neighbor off.
Then he turned back inside.
“Zhao Dong, I’m telling you for the last time—if you keep this up, I will hit you next time.”
He had endured long enough. After the warning, he roughly tidied up the house—wiped the table carelessly, tossed the clothes from the bed into a basket to wash on the weekend.
Zhao Dong, frightened by his father’s rare sternness, stopped crying. Zhao Xi didn’t dare say a word. The two children washed their faces and feet and lay down together to sleep.
Zhao Jun rinsed his own feet quickly and lay down as well.
But in the middle of the night, he woke feeling hotter and hotter. Opening his eyes, he realized—
Zhao Dong was burning with fever, barely conscious.
Zhao Jun panicked and rushed to knock on the neighbor’s door.
The neighbor took one look and exclaimed, “Goodness, this is at least thirty-nine degrees! Didn’t you give him ginger sugar water? Hurry—take him to the hospital!”
Zhao Jun threw on his coat and wrapped Zhao Dong up. The neighbor called out, “Old Ji! Old Ji! Go help Deputy Captain Zhao unlock our bicycle!”
Zhao Jun thanked them repeatedly, left Zhao Xi with the neighbor, and carried Zhao Dong to the hospital.
After they left, the neighbor sighed and closed the door.
The Zhao family’s life was truly in shambles.
—
Ever since Wang Ying had confronted Jiang Lin, life in the infirmary had become even smoother for her.
When entering a new environment, one had to both integrate and make it clear one wasn’t easy to bully.
Wang Ying had successfully achieved both, settling into a comfortable routine: treat patients when there were any; relax when there weren’t.
Zhang Na envied her immensely. “Being a doctor is really better.”
Being a nurse wasn’t bad, but many factory workers preferred to get prescriptions from the county hospital and then come here. As a result, the two nurses were constantly busy.
Doctors, however, were different. Everyone at the sugar factory knew: minor illnesses went to the infirmary; serious ones were sent directly to the county hospital. So the four doctors spent most of their time idle. Even when they saw patients, it was mostly headaches, colds, or fevers.
It was flu season recently, and many patients came for injections. Once the doctor prescribed the medicine, that was it. The nurses, on the other hand, had to hang IV drips and give shots, rarely getting a moment to sit.
Wang Ying joked around with Zhang Na and then slipped her a small handful of spiced fish-skin peanuts made by Xu Shuang. Zhang Na instantly perked up, fatigue gone.
“Sister Ying, you’re the best!”
After spending time together, Zhang Na had naturally started calling her “Sister Ying.”
Wang Ying smiled and accepted the title. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Nurse Xiao Yang didn’t seem pleased.
Now that she was familiar with everyone in the office, the only one she didn’t know well was Xiao Yang. The girl was quiet, rarely spoke, and when she did show displeasure, it could be rather intimidating.
“Doctor Wang Ying, please come over! There’s a patient here for a fever follow-up!”
Wang Ying responded and walked over. After these past few days, Doctor Yang had already seen how solid Wang Ying’s professional skills were and was very satisfied with her. Whenever a patient came in, Wang Ying was now the first person called.
Wang Ying didn’t mind. Since she was at work and it was her duty, doing more was fine. She couldn’t exactly lie down in the office anyway—chatting and working were all the same.
The moment she stepped into the consultation room, she saw a familiar face.
Zhao Jun was there with a child.
Because she had already seen him at the factory gate before, Wang Ying was mentally prepared to run into him again.
So she ignored the way his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets and calmly took the medical record from Doctor Yang.
“Comrade, please describe the symptoms.”
Zhao Jun was completely stunned. Back in the countryside, he had made inquiries about Wang Ying and knew she had become a barefoot doctor. After all, in his previous life, his mother-in-law—who had died long ago—had also been a barefoot doctor. A daughter inheriting her mother’s trade wasn’t unusual.
But how was Wang Ying here?
How had she come to the city? And how had she ended up in the same factory as him?
“Wang Ying, you—”
“Comrade,” Wang Ying interrupted sternly, “don’t casually claim connections. As doctors, we treat all patients equally. Now, please describe the condition.”
Last time, it had been a trace of the original host’s lingering emotions influencing her. This time, Wang Ying had no intention of being controlled by that residual consciousness again.
Besides, she didn’t even need to confront him to know—Zhao Jun was clearly not living well.
People say that when exes meet, one glance is enough to know who lost.
Wang Ying felt that even without saying a word, Zhao Jun’s pride—once elevated to great heights and then abruptly cast down—had probably already shattered into pieces.
Heh. Serves him right.
