Chapter 27: Stuart’s Certainty — She Is Not Annette

Annette hadn't really been paying attention to their conversation. Carrying the lunchbox in, she noticed the two men wore subtle, almost unreadable expressions, which made her curious.

"Did something happen?" she asked gently.

Sean quickly shook his head. "No, no, sister-in-law. Stuart is getting discharged tomorrow. I think he's doing fine. How about we all go out for lunch together?"

Annette glanced at Stuart and shook her head. "No need. I just finished simmering some fish broth."

Still, something about the two of them felt a little off in her mind.

Sean persisted — which was rare for him. "Come on, sister-in-law. You didn't come to my wedding banquet either. At least let me treat you to a meal. Save the fish broth for tonight."

Annette hesitated a moment, thinking about Stuart's injury. Who lets a patient roam before they're officially discharged?

Seeing her hesitation, Sean tried to reassure her. "It's nothing serious. These little injuries don't mean much to Stuart. Remember, on the battlefield, even when their intestines spilled out, they'd just tuck them back in and keep fighting. We're rough men; we don't fuss over these things."

Annette looked at Sean — with his sharp features and fair skin, he hardly looked like a 'rough man.'

Stuart agreed calmly. "Let's just go out for lunch. There's a state-run cafeteria not far from the hospital."

What else could Annette say? She wasn't a doctor, and her words wouldn't carry much weight. Besides, even if she were, stubborn patients like Stuart and Sean were a dime a dozen.

When noon came, they walked to the nearby state-run cafeteria together.

The granite walls were emblazoned with black letters: "Au service du peuple" — "At the Service of the People."

Next to it, a small chalkboard displayed the day's menu.

Annette was intrigued by the place's old-world atmosphere. The room was simple, with a large iron stove roaring in the middle, its metal glowing red-hot from the fire.

All the tables were square "baxian" tables, each surrounded by long benches.

After sitting down, Sean confidently ordered braised chicken, red-braised beef, and about three kilograms of dumplings.

Annette watched Stuart sit with a calm, unreadable expression and marveled silently — remarkable! Could he really feel no pain at all?

Soon, yellow enamel basins filled with food arrived.

Sean eagerly invited Annette, "Sister-in-law, try this. The red-braised beef here is excellent."

Annette looked at the richly sauced beef and thought it wasn't so much about the cooking — in this era, any meat boiled in sauce tasted good.

She had just picked up her chopsticks when suddenly, a commotion broke out at the neighboring table.

Someone collapsed with a thud, convulsing violently.

Sean and Stuart both sprang up. Others bent down to help the fallen man.

Annette quickly assessed the symptoms and called out, "Don't move him! Let him lie flat!"

She squeezed through the crowd, gently pushing people aside. "Go get a doctor quickly and tell them this patient is showing signs of a cerebral hemorrhage."

As she spoke, she carefully cradled the man's head, positioning him on his side.

Sean hesitated for a moment, but Stuart nudged him firmly. "Go get the doctor."

The man's wife was too stunned to say anything. She didn't know who Annette was but saw how capable she was and kept silent, quietly weeping beside them.

Sean hurried off to fetch the doctor, who arrived with a stretcher. After a quick examination, the doctor confirmed the patient showed clear signs of cerebral hemorrhage. They were lucky not to have lifted him blindly.

The patient was swiftly carried away.

The other diners returned to their seats, whispering among themselves and stealing glances at Annette.

She felt a pang of regret — she'd exposed herself again.

In emergencies like this, there was no time to think about appearances. Saving a life was the priority.

Fearing Sean and Stuart might ask too many questions, she excused herself to wash her hands and then returned to sit. "Come on, let's eat. This meat looks delicious."

Sean was puzzled. How could Annette tell at a glance that the man was having a cerebral hemorrhage? And how did she know how to care for an unconscious patient with such calm composure?

She wasn't a doctor — who else could manage that?

But when Annette washed her hands, Stuart warned Sean firmly, "Don't be so curious. Don't ask questions. Just eat."

Though he didn't understand why, Sean obeyed. If Stuart said not to ask, there must be a reason.

Fortunately, neither pressed.

Annette finished the meal with ease. Just as Sean said, the chicken and red-braised beef were delicious, and the dumplings were satisfying.

It was the best, most fulfilling meal she'd had since arriving in this world.

Back in the ward, Stuart still didn't ask any questions. Annette relaxed, thinking perhaps he believed she really had learned some medicine from her grandfather.

Early the next morning, she helped Stuart with his discharge paperwork.

Dr. Louis came by to check the wound. Recovery was good. As long as he rested at home, he'd be fine.

He warned Annette, "Make sure you watch over him well. I know Stuart's stubborn ways — he can't return to work until he's fully healed."

Annette nodded repeatedly. "Anything else I should be careful about?"

"Nope. This kid's tough and heals fast. Just remember to change the dressings every three days and bring him back later for stitch removal."

Annette frowned. "When exactly is 'later'?"

Isn't the stitch removal date usually specified?

Dr. Louis chuckled. "If I told him the exact day, he wouldn't come. He's removed stitches himself before."

Annette fell silent. Alright, this man was something else.

She then went to the billing desk to get a refund.

When Stuart was admitted, Richard had already had Kyle pay the fees. After deducting Stuart's entitled benefits, they spent less than three francs, and over seven francs were refunded.

Annette signed the receipt, counted the money, and thought, I didn't expect surgery to be this cheap!

She bundled the change and receipts and handed them to Stuart.

"This is the refunded money and paperwork. See if you need them. I've packed up all your things. I'll go tell Louise and the others."

Stuart nodded.

After Annette left, he unfolded the receipt and glanced over it hastily. His eyes stopped on the last line — Annette's signature.

The handwriting was slender yet strong, the strokes deliberate and flowing, graceful yet resolute — it looked like the writing of a free spirit.

A long-standing puzzle in Stuart's mind began to unravel.

He recalled when they first took their marriage documents, Annette's handwriting had been delicate and childish, like a schoolgirl's.

A person's character might change, but handwriting was hard to alter.

So Annette wasn't Annette. Then who was she?

Annette said goodbye to Louise and the young nurses, who were reluctant to see her go.

They told her to come back and visit when she had time.

Annette smiled and agreed, but then suddenly recalled the signature on the receipt — her handwriting was worlds apart from the original owner's.

Would Stuart recognize it?