Frame-up (Part 2)
The pungent smell of disinfectant outside the operating room was suffocating. Xu Zhiyi's high heels made a frantic sound on the tiled floor. Her fingertips were white as she gripped her phone. The text message she had received half an hour earlier, "Your mother is in premature labor, come quickly!", was still flashing on the screen. The moment she entered the third floor of the hospital, the glare of the incandescent light made her squint, but the moment she saw the words "Operating Room," her blood froze. The elegant mother who always wore a silk nightgown and pruned roses in the garden now lay under the shadowless lamp, her life uncertain.
"This is all your fault!" Shen Zhiyuan's vein-riddled hand fiercely grasped Shen Zhihe's collar, wrinkling his expensive suit. The upstart businessman had completely lost his usual composure, his eyes bloodshot behind his lenses. "Even though she's not your biological mother, she's still your elder! And she's my wife!"
Shen Zhihe was pressed against the cold wall, his Adam's apple rolling with difficulty. His hands, hanging at his sides, slowly clenched into fists, his knuckles turning pale. In his memory, this nominal father had never lost control like this—even when he discovered his mother had passed away in a nursing home, he had simply said, "Zhihe, my condolences." Was this current anger stemming from his true feelings for Xu Huanxi, or was it more about his concern for the still-forming child?
"I understand." Shen Zhihe's voice was like sandpaper grinding against rust, and he forced himself to relax his tense shoulders. During his years of hiding in the Shen family, he had long since learned to walk on the edge of a knife. Now was not the time to break off relations; he had to wait until the moment to completely overthrow Shen Zhiyuan.
The red light in the operating room suddenly went out, and everyone's breathing stopped. A doctor wearing a blue mask pushed open the door, and the blood on his protective suit made Xu Zhiyi's eyes sore. "Family, the patient is out of danger for now." The doctor took off his mask, revealing a tired look. "But due to excessive blood loss from falling down the stairs, the fetus could not be saved."
Shen Zhiyuan stumbled, holding onto the wall, his gold-rimmed glasses sliding down to the tip of his nose. He turned abruptly, the rage boiling in his eyes threatening to consume Shen Zhihe. "Are you satisfied?!" The air suddenly froze. The second after Xu Huanxi was wheeled in by the nurse, he quickly walked towards her as she was being pushed out of the operating room. His voice suddenly became gentle yet hoarse, "I'm sorry we couldn't save our child... Don't worry, we'll have another one."
Xu Zhiyi looked at her pale mother lying on the hospital bed, and her memory suddenly flashed back to a night a month earlier. She'd accidentally caught her mother secretly taking medication. The bottle was labeled "mifepristone," the abortion drug, and Xu Zhiyi's pupils constricted. The doctor's words were still ringing in her ears, but she suddenly remembered her mother stroking her belly and muttering to herself in the mirror, "This chess piece, it's time to drop."
Two weeks later, the smell of disinfectant in the ward gradually gave way to the fragrance of lilies. Xu Huanxi leaned back against the pillow, her pale fingertips gracefully twirling her pearl earrings. "Are you still brooding over my child?" She suddenly chuckled, a venomous cunning hidden in the fine lines at the corners of her eyes. "Do you really think I'd be so foolish as to fall down the stairs and blame it on Shen Zhihe? I just had the nanny sprinkle some olive oil on the steps, though it did hurt a bit."
Xu Zhiyi took a half step back, her back resting against the cold windowsill. The sunlight outside the window was dazzling, but it couldn't penetrate the bottomless darkness in her mother's eyes. "But child..."
"Child?" Xu Huanxi scoffed, her nails dragging across her flat abdomen. "It lost its heartbeat a month ago. All of Shen Zhiyuan's possessions are hidden in the safe in his study." She slowly stood up, her hospital gown rustling as it dragged against the floor. "Only if Shen Zhihe falls completely out of favor can we get those things."
The ward door suddenly blew open, the curtains rustling. Xu Zhiyi stared at her mother's twisted smile and finally understood that all those late-night whispers and the deliberately constructed facade of tenderness were part of a carefully orchestrated chess game. She and Shen Zhihe were mere pawns on the board, ready to be discarded at any moment.
Xu Zhiyi clenched the IV tube in her palm, a rusty taste rising in her throat. Disinfectant mixed with her mother's jasmine scent wafted towards her face. She gazed at her well-maintained face and finally asked the question she had been holding back for so long: "Mother, have you... always treated me like a pawn?"
Xu Huanxi paused as she was trimming her nails, her nail-painted fingertips caressing her daughter's pale cheek. Her smile was like a blade dipped in honey. "Zhiyi, how could that be? I'd treat Shen Zhihe as a chess piece, but I wouldn't treat you as one." The warm touch made Xu Zhiyi's pupils shrink. These hands had once tucked in her quilt late at night, but now they reminded her of the venom of a venomous snake.
She lowered her eyelids, hiding the turmoil in her eyes behind the shadows of her lashes, and softly replied, "I knew Mother wouldn't." The moment she pushed the door open, the cold white light of the corridor pierced through her disguise. She looked at her reflection in the glass window, a hint of sarcasm curling her lips. The IV drip hurt against her skin, reminiscent of the feeling of being used as a bargaining chip all those years.
The sound of sneakers clattering around the corner made Xu Zhiyi look up sharply, meeting Shen Zhihe's cold eyes. Her heartbeat suddenly lost its rhythm, and she forced a calm smile on her face. "Brother Zhihe, do you want to see Mother? She's still in the ward. Go quickly."
The document bag and bouquet in Shen Zhihe's arms swayed slightly with his movements. When he nodded, the strands of hair on the back of his neck brushed against his collar. His indifferent voice was like an ice spike: "Thank you." Watching the tall figure disappear behind the ward door, Xu Zhiyi bit her lower lip and dug her nails deep into her palm.
As the scent of disinfectant filled his nostrils, Shen Zhihe's fingers were still caressing the bouquet's wrapping paper. The ward door hinges creaked softly, and the woman wrapped in a blue and white striped sheet on the bed turned her head, a perfectly composed look of surprise forming in her eyes and brows.
"It's strange you'd come to see me." Xu Huanxi's pale fingertips unconsciously clenched the corner of the quilt, and the jade bracelet on her wrist clattered against the iron frame at the head of the bed. She half-sat up, leaning against the pillow, her hair scattered on the plain white pillowcase, like a charming ink painting.
Shen Zhihe placed the champagne rose heavily on the folding table, the metal legs clashing against the tile floor with a harsh sound. As he dragged the accompanying chair over and sat down, his sneakers stomped over the ridges of the floor, carrying with them a certain undeniable sense of oppression. "Auntie, I didn't expect you to still be so pretentious." He loosened his tie, revealing the veins in his neck. "But it doesn't matter. I've already found something on you."
Xu Huanxi's eyelashes trembled, and she reached out to tidy up the collar of her hospital gown. "What are you talking about? I don't understand." A small piece of nail polish peeled off from her fingertips, leaving a dark red mark on the sheets.
Shen Zhihe scoffed, the muffled thud of the briefcase slamming onto the bedside table startling the lilies in the vase. Photos fanned out, revealing a woman in a red slip dress, heavily made-up, and smoking, kissing a man in a suit in a hotel suite. They even kissed one on the left and hugged the other on the right. Neon lights cast an ambiguous glow outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. "This is your wonderful performance at the Peninsula Hotel," he flicked at the most eye-catching photo. "Surveillance records, entry and exit registers—it took me a whole week to compile this chain of evidence."
The woman's face instantly turned pale blue, and then she burst into a sharp laugh. "Oh, just based on your one-sided statement and these photos? With the advancement of technology these days, do you think the master will trust me first, the one who has been by his side for ten years, or you, the son born from his ex-wife?"
Shen Zhihe slowly stood up, the hem of his suit brushing against the overturned vase. Clear water smeared across the photo, distorting the expression on Xu Huanxi's face. "I know my father won't believe anything I say now." As he leaned forward, his eyes behind his lenses seemed icy. "But time will tell. When all your dirty deeds come to light, I'll see how you can pretend."
The moment the ward door slammed shut, the ECG monitor emitted a long, lingering hum. Xu Huanxi stared at the crack in the ceiling and suddenly burst into manic laughter. She reached out and stroked the man's face in the photo, her nails digging deep into the paper. "Shen Zhihe, I made your mother disappear from the world back then, and now I can make you follow in her footsteps." Her distorted face flickered in the window.
Shen Zhihe's knuckles were white, and the smell of disinfectant still clung to his sleeves. As the hospital's revolving door closed behind him, he looked up at the leaden sky. The late May wind, carrying willow catkins, brushed past his ears, reminiscent of Xu Huanxi's hypocritical smile.
"Xu Huanxi, one day, your father will see through your disguise." He spat out these words into the void, with a taste of rust in his throat.
The wind picked up even faster, spinning the dead leaves along the roadside into swirls. Shen Zhihe's phone vibrated—an encrypted email from a private detective. He clicked on the attachment, his pupils constricting: the surveillance footage showed Xu Huanxi secretly meeting with a strange man in the underground garage, and that was during the time Shen Zhiyuan was away on business.
This cat-and-mouse game, lasting ten years, was finally coming to an end. Shen Zhihe touched the recorder in his suit pocket and turned to head for the parking lot. As the roar of the engine cut through the twilight, the hospital building in the rearview mirror gradually shrank into a speck of light. In the darkness, Xu Huanxi, in her private ward, her fingertips, painted with scarlet nail polish, brushed against the man she was secretly meeting in the photo.
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