Slapping hard

Song Zhiyao ran breathlessly, just in time to hop onto the bus as it was about to pull away from the curb.

The driver, catching sight of her white coat, immediately guessed she was a doctor from First Central Hospital. His face lit up with a friendly smile.

"Young lady, it's impressive to see someone so young become a doctor," he said warmly.

He had been driving this route for over a decade and had seen countless people and doctors come and go. He knew most of the hospital staff by face. But someone as young and fresh-faced as Song Zhiyao? That was new.

From her expression and presence, he could tell she was a newcomer, and so he chatted even more eagerly.

"I know many doctors at your hospital. Some of them are really skilled and some," he chuckled, "well, just famous for nothing."

The driver spoke with the casual tone of someone used to such chatter. Song Zhiyao merely nodded politely in response, choosing not to engage too much. There was no need to speak openly with strangers, especially when it involved colleagues.

Thankfully, the driver sensed her reluctance and respectfully quieted down. Other passengers who had boarded were also quick to silence themselves.

She let out a breath of relief.

Less talk, more action—fewer mistakes, she reminded herself. She'd always believed that keeping things simple and professional avoided unnecessary trouble.

Now finally settled, Song Zhiyao began to review the day's work in her mind. To her, hospital interpersonal relationships should unfold naturally over time. Right now, what mattered most was applying her medical knowledge into practice and gaining her patients' trust.

She knew there would be all kinds of emergencies in the future. Like today—there was that little boy. His issue had been relatively common, at least from a clinical perspective.

But in the eyes of the boy and his parents, it had been a deeply embarrassing moment. The child had cried endlessly—not just from pain, but from a place of vulnerability. That moment made her realize: being pediatrics was not that simple.

Children couldn't always express themselves clearly. Sometimes they didn't even know what was wrong. As a doctor, finding the root of the problem would require not just clinical skill, but empathy, patience, and intuition.

If she hadn't caught the subtle sound that led to her diagnosis today, she might have missed it entirely.

She made a quiet note to herself to rely on those small clues in the future. As her thoughts continued swirling, they only reaffirmed her desire to become a doctor whom patients could trust completely.

By the time she reached the gate of the textile factory, dusk had settled. The guard, Uncle Liang, called out with concern.

"Yanling's daughter, back so late? You look exhausted. Must've had a busy day at work, huh?"

Song Zhiyao smiled, brushing her hair behind her ear.

"Uncle Liang, it's my first day. There's still a lot to learn. It's tough, but I'll get used to it."

As she turned to leave, Uncle Liang suddenly leaned in with a quiet warning.

"That Luo Meixin is at your place. I just heard her making a fuss again. That girl's been self-centered since she was little. Be careful."

Song Zhiyao nodded, thankful for his kindness, and hurried toward home.

She knew Luo Meixin wouldn't come this late unless she intended to stir up trouble. At home, Lai Yanling could be fierce toward outsiders, but when it came to children—especially spoiled ones like Luo Meixin—she was often too soft.

Her other sister, Song Ruyun, was impulsive. She'd be the first to suffer against someone as manipulative as Luo Meixin. And Song Zihao, timid and quiet, wouldn't stand a chance.

Zhiyao was certain—Meixin was back for her.

As she neared home, a crowd of neighbors stood gathered outside the door, whispering among themselves. When they spotted her, they stepped aside with curious, almost entertained expressions.

She had once thought her neighbors were decent folk. But now, watching them drama with such relish, she realized they were no different from any other nosy onlookers.

Even before entering, she heard Luo Meixin's sharp voice ring out from within.

"Song Ruyun! Just a few days away from me and suddenly you don't take your own sister seriously anymore? We've been family for over ten years. But you rather side with Zhiyao after just one day? "

Her tone was bitter and loud.

"What's so special about Song Zhiyao that you all have to take her side?"

Zhiyao's eyes narrowed. It was clear she had been angered by something Ruyun said earlier.

Then came Ruyun's voice—strong, steady, and for the first time, defiant.

"My sister is better than you in every way, Luo Meixin. You've spent ten years bullying me and Zihao. Why should we care someone like you?

And don't forget—it was you who swore you'd never return to our poor little Song family once you rejoined the Luo family. But look at you now—back here to eat and drink for free!

I've seen shameless people, but not quite like you. My sister left the Luo family and still had the dignity to never ask for anything. I bet she'd rather starve than beg to go back."

Zhiyao's heart warmed. Though she hadn't known Ruyun for long, her words showed fierce loyalty—and Meixin was clearly enraged by it. She jumped like a monkey.

"You… Song Ruyun, you looking for a beating?!"

Luo Meixin lunged forward. She had always treated herself as the eldest—believing it was her right to discipline her younger siblings. Ruyun had been at the receiving end of her strength too many times.

Now, seeing Ruyun standing up to her, beautiful and composed, Meixin felt jealous. In her past life, she had always envied beautiful women. She had even considered plastic surgery.

This world had given her a better face—but still, not enough. Not compared to Ruyun or Zhiyao.

Fueled by rage, Meixin raised her long, sharp nails, aiming to scratch Ruyun's face.

Lai Yanling cried out in alarm and rushed forward.

"Meixin! I don't care if you girls argue, but look at what you're doing! Your nails are so long—what if you scar your sister's face? How will she go out in public tomorrow?"

Thanks to her intervention, the scratch missed. Instead, Ruyun retaliated—grabbing Meixin's hair in a swift move and before Meixin could react Ruyun directly slapped her hard across the face.

Outside the door, Zhiyao watched choose the moment to intervene. She was waiting—not because she didn't care, but because she wanted to see where Lai Yanling's loyalties lay. If her own mother defended Meixin over her siblings, she would no longer waste her energy at home. She would focus solely on guiding her brother and sister.

But thankfully, Lai Yanling did the right thing.

Seeing the fight escalate, Zhiyao finally entered the house—not so much to break up the fight, but to shield Ruyun. To outsiders it seemed Zhiyao wanted to stop the fight.

Song Zihao, who had been hovering nervously nearby, jumped in to help as well—stomping subtly on Meixin's foot and jabbing her side with his elbow deliberately.

Meixin howled in pain, stunned.

And just like that, the three siblings stepped back, satisfied. They looked at each other knowingly.

Only then did Meixin realize what had happened—they had coordinated it to overpower her.

Her hair was disheveled, her clothes were mess, and her cheeks red with humiliation. She turned, hoping to find sympathy in Lai Yanling's eyes.

But Yanling merely sighed and said in a tired, scolding tone:

"We're all family. Look at you—making a scene like this in front of everyone. Aren't you ashamed?"