Chapter 66

What nonsense was that supposed to be?

For the first time, Han Qian felt a surge of disgust towards a doctor—not because Wang Nan was gay, but because of the man's overwhelming personal biases. He had simply decided not to continue treatment, yet Wang Nan accused him of disrespect. And what was that nonsense about? If he didn't want to see me, I could easily find another doctor—I wasn't begging him for help.

After walking quite a distance, Wen Nuan caught up with Han Qian, grabbing his arm with a hint of reproach. "Why are you like this? Wang Nan's just straightforward—he's a foreigner, you know."

Han Qian pulled his arm away and turned on her with a thunderous glare. "So what if he's a foreigner? This isn't Australia—this is my home, my country. He's here, and suddenly we all have to be tolerant? Indulgent? He may be a brilliant physician in everyone else's eyes, but in mine, he's a doctor who lacks even the most basic ethics. I'm not the one begging him to treat me—so why should I endure his arrogance?"

His outburst drew the attention of passersby, and soon his mother and father arrived. His mother frowned. "Xiao Qian, how can you speak so rudely?"

"I've no manners, Mother," Han Qian shot back.

Smack!

His head snapped forward as his father's palm connected with the back of his skull. Han Qian clenched his fists and turned, only to find himself facing the old man's steely glare. He lowered his head in shame. His mother went to Wen Nuan's side, wrapping the weeping girl in her arms and soothing her softly.

Wen Nuan had meant well. She only wanted her mother-in-law to get a thorough checkup without waiting in endless lines, to have someone familiar she could trust. She never imagined things would spiral out of control like this—or that Han Qian would turn his fury on her.

The old man grabbed Han Qian by the arm and dragged him out of the hospital, while his mother guided Wen Nuan back into Wang Nan's office. Wang Nan's expression was equally dark, but when he saw Han Qian's mother, he forced a polite smile and stood to greet her.

"Auntie, please sit," he said.

She took his hand, her tone gentle. "Dr. Wang, please don't mind that foolish child. It's my failing as a mother that he's so poorly behaved."

Wang Nan drew a deep breath, forcing a smile of his own. "Auntie, he and I are simply not on the same page—it's nothing. Please have some water. I'll check on your medical reports and ensure everything is in order. Don't worry, you're in excellent health."

He didn't vent his frustration on the others, leaving the room quickly to make the arrangements. Wen Nuan sat beside her mother-in-law, leaning her head on the older woman's shoulder.

Outside the hospital, Han Qian sat on the edge of a planter, sulking. The old man had given him two swift kicks and a thorough scolding—essentially telling him that if he had fire in his gut, he should unleash it on outsiders, not on his own wife. Wasn't that what made him a man?

A short while later, his mother and Wen Nuan emerged, hand in hand. She tossed Han Qian the car keys with a cold voice. "If you can yell like that, you're not dying—drive us home."

Han Qian climbed into the driver's seat, but Wen Nuan took the keys from him, slipping behind the wheel instead. Han Qian sat silently in the passenger seat, staring out the window. Gone was the playful banter of the morning. In the back, the old man suddenly let out a chuckle.

"Haven't seen you two fight in three years. Quite the show you put on today," he said lightly.

Han Qian turned and glared at him, grabbing Wen Nuan's hand on the gear shift in a firm grip. She struggled briefly, then let him hold it—she didn't know what she felt anymore. She only knew she needed to put on a good show for their parents, to hide the truth of their divorce.

For Han Qian, it was simpler. In front of the old man, he was always just a child—uncomplicated, easily read. He had no plans, no schemes. He just wanted to protect his own.

That afternoon, they had a meal planned with Lao Wen and his wife. Lao Wen was almost giddy with excitement—he'd been waiting for this day for years, a chance to drink and smoke freely at last.

It was Wen Nuan who had made the arrangements. She took her mother out shopping, while Han Qian waited in the car, not wanting to walk with his aching back.

At three in the afternoon, they gathered at Baixing Kitchen, a family-run restaurant. Wen Nuan's mother had booked a table. The old man and Lao Wen greeted each other like old friends, beaming and clasping hands. Han Qian's mother chatted with Li Jinhe about family gossip. The only awkward ones were Wen Nuan and Han Qian, seated side by side. She stared at her phone, convinced she had done nothing wrong. Han Qian knew he'd been out of line, but he couldn't bring himself to say it.

"Wen Nuan, go to my car and get that bottle of wine," Lao Wen said with a laugh. "Today's a celebration, and I've been saving this one for ages."

He tossed her the keys without warning—she didn't even react until they were about to hit her face. Han Qian reached out and caught them just in time, then handed them to her. She took them and left without a word, and Han Qian, after a moment's thought, followed.

At the elevator, she seemed lost in thought, so he gently guided her inside, his hand firm on her back. She didn't resist, didn't speak—just let him lead her like a puppet.

It was only when she had to bend to retrieve the wine and cigarettes that she seemed to wake up. She locked the car and headed back, Han Qian beside her. But as they reached the door, she suddenly stopped.

"What is it?" he asked. "Still mad?"

She shook her head, her lips barely moving. "Lin Zongheng is here too."

Han Qian's brows drew together. He reached for the wine in her hand, but she shook him off and strode forward, only to be stopped by a server.

"I'm sorry, miss—no outside alcohol allowed," the server said politely.

"Tell your manager to come speak to me," Wen Nuan replied coolly. She didn't want to make things harder for the young woman, so she ignored her and continued on. In the crowded elevator, someone bumped Han Qian's back, making him grunt in pain. Wen Nuan turned and shot the offender a murderous look. The man shrank back, stammering an apology.

As they stepped out of the elevator, they could already hear Lin Zongheng's voice from the private room—loud, confident, as though he were the guest of honor. Wen Nuan's expression darkened even further.

Lin Zongheng was in Han Qian's seat, talking as though he owned the place. When Wen Nuan entered, he quickly stood, his voice sickeningly sweet. "Xiao Nuan, you should have let me know you were going down for something—I'd have sent someone to get it for you."

Wen Nuan took a deep breath, ready to respond, but before she could, Han Qian appeared in the doorway, a cigarette between his lips, his tone lazy and sardonic.

"Tonight is a family dinner," he said softly. "Don't you think you're a little out of place here?"