Lin Wanqiu was weaving among the guests, her skirt hem swaying in the light and shadow on her lake-blue silk dress, like a water lily blooming in a tranquil lake. She had just finished toasting the commune secretary, the coolness of the glass still lingering on her fingertips, when she noticed a small commotion in a corner. Old Mrs. Shen, holding half a glass of baijiu, had a face even paler than the liquid. Her once slicked-back hair was slightly disheveled, a few strands of gray hair clinging to her temples. Her hands were tightly pressed against her chest, her knuckles turning bluish-white from the pressure.
"Mother, what's wrong?" Zhang Lan was the first to notice something was wrong. She had just put a piece of fatty braised pork into her mouth when she saw Old Madam Shen's appearance, with meat juice still dripping from the corners of her shiny lips. She hurriedly stood up, her voice sharp like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, "Oh dear, what's wrong? Why are you feeling unwell all of a sudden?"
Her shout was like a stone thrown into a boiling pot of soup, instantly silencing the noisy hall. Guests put down their bowls and chopsticks, their gazes all turning to the corner. The previously harmonious atmosphere was replaced by a sudden sense of tension. Even the sunlight seemed to dim; the gilded bells on the red silk no longer tinkled, leaving only Old Mrs. Shen's heavy, rapid breathing, like a broken bellows struggling to pull.
Lin Wanqiu's heart skipped a beat; the disgust she had just suppressed was instantly replaced by worry. She hurried through the crowd, her lake-blue skirt brushing against the corner of a table, stirring a gentle breeze. The celadon vase on the table swayed slightly, and a few drops of water rolled off the petals of the winter plum blossoms. "Mother!" She bent down, her icy fingertips touching Old Madam Shen's wrist. Her pulse was erratic, like a candle flickering in the wind, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, so weak it was almost imperceptible.
Shen Tingzhou followed closely behind, his crisp military uniform making his expression even more stern, but the anxiety in his eyes was unmistakable. He steadied the swaying Old Madam Shen, his broad hands supporting her back, his voice low and urgent: "Wanqiu, how are you?"
"Her pulse is weak and her breathing is labored; she's probably having an acute attack of angina." Lin Wanqiu's brows furrowed deeply. In her previous life, as a food blogger, she had a broad knowledge of nutrition and basic medicine. After her rebirth, she had also systematically studied medical knowledge in her spatial skill library. At this moment, she immediately recognized the urgency of the situation. "Old Shen, quickly lay Mother flat, loosen her collar and belt, and make sure she can breathe freely!"
Shen Tingzhou immediately did as instructed, carefully placing Old Madam Shen on the red carpeted floor. The surrounding guests rose to make way, some offering their own handkerchiefs, some whispering about finding a team of barefoot doctors, and others looking on with worry at this sudden turn of events. The festive atmosphere vanished, replaced by anxiety and unease.
Lin Wanqiu knelt on the ground, her hair falling down and brushing against Old Madam Shen's pale cheeks. She quickly unbuttoned Old Madam Shen's clothes, revealing the loose skin on her neck, and then loosened her belt, her movements swift and steady. "Does anyone have hot water?" she asked loudly, her voice carrying an undeniable force.
"I have some!" Wang Xiulian, the director of the Women's Federation, quickly took out a military water bottle from her cloth bag, which contained warm water that she had brought specially. Lin Wanqiu took the water bottle, unscrewed the cap, and carefully held the water to Old Lady Shen's lips, "Mom, drink some water, slowly."
Old Mrs. Shen clenched her teeth, her lips cracked and peeling. She swallowed hard, making a hoarse sound in her throat, her chest heaving violently as if a raging fire was burning inside. She slowly opened her eyes, her cloudy gaze sweeping over the crowd surrounding her, finally settling on Lin Wanqiu's face. Her eyes were incredibly complex, filled with pain, resentment, and a barely perceptible trace of guilt, as if she had a thousand words to say, but the intense pain had choked her throat.
"Late Autumn... my... heart... hurts so much..." Old Mrs. Shen's voice was as weak as a mosquito's buzz. Every word she spoke required a great deal of effort. Fine beads of cold sweat seeped from her forehead and quickly soaked the hair at her temples.
Lin Wanqiu's heart tightened; she knew she couldn't wait any longer. She looked up at Shen Tingzhou and said, "Old Shen, I'll go get the first-aid kit. You stay here and watch over Mother. Don't let anyone move her!" Before she finished speaking, she turned and ran quickly backstage, her lake-blue skirt drawing a sharp arc in the air.
In the temporary backstage lounge, Lin Wanqiu locked the door behind her back and, with a thought, entered the space of her ancestral jade pendant. The modern warehouse inside was brightly lit, with various supplies neatly arranged on the shelves. She went straight to the medical area, where her carefully prepared first-aid kit was stored. Inside, there were not only commonly used emergency medicines such as nitroglycerin and quick-acting heart pills, but also professional equipment such as electrocardiogram monitors and oxygen cylinders.
She quickly picked up the first-aid kit, her fingertips touching the cold metal casing, yet her heart was filled with unwavering resolve. In the years since her rebirth, she had protected her family with the resources and skills she possessed, never imagining she would one day use them to treat Old Lady Shen, who had once so constantly tormented her. But now, seeing Old Lady Shen's pained expression, those past grievances seemed insignificant. She was, after all, Shen Tingzhou's mother, Nian'an and Nianxi's grandmother, and a member of this family.
Lin Wanqiu rushed out of the lounge with the first-aid kit. When she returned to the auditorium, Old Madam Shen's condition had become increasingly critical. Her breathing had become weak and intermittent, her face was as pale as paper, and her lips had turned an unnatural bluish-purple. Shen Tingzhou held her hand tightly, his tall body trembling slightly. The man, usually as steady as a mountain, was now filled with panic and worry. He called out "Mother" again and again, his voice hoarse and almost incoherent.
"Make way!" Lin Wanqiu pushed through the crowd, quickly opened the first-aid kit, took out nitroglycerin tablets, and carefully placed them under Grandma Shen's tongue. "Old Shen, hold down Mom's shoulders for me, don't let her move around." She then took out a stethoscope and placed it on Grandma Shen's chest. The heartbeat coming from the stethoscope was weak and chaotic, as if it might stop beating at any moment.
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