Chapter 53 is unfair to her.
In the afternoon at the Huo family mansion, sunlight streamed through the French windows onto the Persian carpet. What should have been a leisurely time was shattered by suppressed groans coming from the second-floor bedroom.
Mrs. Huo lay on the bed, an ice towel draped over her forehead, her eyes tightly closed, her face as pale as paper. Migraines had tormented her for over twenty years, each attack feeling like an electric drill spinning in her temples, but today's was particularly severe—she had already taken an increased dose of painkillers, but they were like stones sinking into the sea, showing no signs of relief.
"Madam, perhaps we should go to the hospital?" Butler Aunt Lin stood by the bedside, her face full of worry.
Mrs. Huo weakly waved her hand, her voice squeezed out through clenched teeth: "It's an old ailment... the injection is only temporary... let me have some peace and quiet..."
Aunt Lin tiptoed out and bumped into Huo Zheng, who had just returned home, in the corridor.
"Fourth Master."
"Is Third Sister-in-law having a headache again?" Huo Zheng had just returned from the army and still looked travel-worn.
"This time it's particularly severe; even the medicine isn't working."
Huo Zheng frowned and walked towards the bedroom. The moment he pushed open the door, he saw his mother curled up on the bed and sighed inwardly. This woman, who had been strong-willed her whole life, only showed such a vulnerable side when faced with illness.
"Third sister-in-law."
Mrs. Huo barely opened her eyes: "Ah Zheng is back? I'm fine... I just need to lie down for a while."
"I know a neurology specialist, why don't we ask him to take a look?"
“No need to trouble yourself…” Mrs. Huo’s voice trembled with pain and restraint. “It’s an old ailment that can’t be cured.”
Huo Zheng stood silently by the bed for a moment. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting long shadows on the floor, and the antique clock on the wall ticked rhythmically. He suddenly remembered Ji Yun's excited voice on the phone a few days ago: "Uncle, you didn't see it! After Song Zhiyi's acupuncture, my mother's complexion improved immediately! Professor Chen even said it was professional-level emergency care!"
A thought flashed through my mind.
"Third Sister-in-law," Huo Zheng began tentatively, "how about... we let Zhiyi take a look?"
Mrs. Huo's eyes snapped open. Despite her splitting headache, a clear look of rejection flashed in her eyes: "Her? What can she possibly do?"
“She understands traditional Chinese medicine.” Huo Zheng tried to be objective. “Ji Yun’s mother had an acute myocardial infarction, and it was her acupuncture that stabilized the situation. I have personally witnessed her treating various external injuries on the battlefield, and her techniques are very professional.”
“A translator, she only knows the basics.” Mrs. Huo closed her eyes again, but her brows furrowed even more—whether from a headache or from hearing that name, she didn’t know. “Besides, with her background… what real skills could she possibly have?”
Huo Zheng's gaze darkened. He knew how deep his sister-in-law's prejudice against Song Zhiyi ran; that kind of contempt rooted in class and background couldn't be changed in a few words.
“Background does not determine ability,” he said calmly. “I saw her in Syria cleaning and suturing wounded soldiers amidst gunfire. The conditions were so rudimentary that there wasn’t even enough anesthetic, yet she did it more steadily than many military doctors.”
Huo's mother did not respond; her breathing only became heavier and more painful.
Huo Zheng left the room. He stood in the corridor, looking out the window at the century-old ginkgo tree in the courtyard, its golden leaves rustling down in the autumn wind. He recalled the scene in the dilapidated church in Aleppo, where Song Zhiyi knelt on the dusty ground, removing shrapnel from a child's leg. The distant roar of artillery fire was deafening, yet her hand didn't even tremble.
Such a person should not be treated so casually.
He went downstairs and into the study. Old Master Huo was practicing calligraphy, his brushstrokes flowing like dragons and snakes, writing the phrase "The sea accepts all rivers."
"dad."
Grandpa Huo didn't look up, his pen moving steadily: "Is your sister-in-law having a headache again?"
“Yes, this time it’s very serious.” Huo Zheng paused. “I suggested that Zhiyi come and take a look, but Third Sister-in-law refused.”
The brush paused on the rice paper, a drop of ink spreading out. Old Master Huo put down the brush, looked up at him: "Why did you refuse?"
"She felt that Zhiyi didn't understand, and she also felt... that she was unworthy."
The last three words were spoken very softly, but the air in the study still seemed to freeze for a moment.
Old Master Huo silently washed his brush, hung it up, and then walked to the window. The afternoon sun gilded his gray hair with a golden edge.
“Your third sister-in-law is strong-willed and stubborn; she judges people by their background first,” he said slowly. “But she’s not a bad person; she’s just been trapped in her own set of values for too long.”
“But this is unfair to Zhiyi.” Huo Zheng rarely spoke to his father in such a direct tone. “She has saved so many people and suffered so much outside, but she has to endure this kind of contempt when she comes home.”
Old Master Huo turned around, his gaze sharp: "So what do you think we should do?"
“Call Zhiyi,” Huo Zheng said. “If you ask, she will come. As for whether Third Sister-in-law will accept treatment… that’s her own choice.”
The father and son looked at each other for a moment. The soft sound of ginkgo leaves falling to the ground came from outside the window.
Grandpa Huo walked to his desk and picked up the receiver of the old-fashioned red telephone. His fingers paused on the dial pad for a moment, then began to turn it—he remembered the number; it was the landline for Song Zhiyi's dormitory at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
---
3:10 PM, Ministry of Foreign Affairs dormitory.
Song Zhiyi had just finished an online Arabic translation training session and was organizing her notes when the phone on her desk rang.
She answered, "Hello."
"Zhiyi, it's me." Old Master Huo's voice came through the receiver, carrying the gentle warmth unique to the elderly. "Did I disturb your work?"
"Grandpa?" Song Zhiyi was a little surprised. "No, I just finished class. Is there anything I can help you with?"
There was a pause on the other end of the phone: "Your mother-in-law... Yanli's mother, is having a migraine attack, and this time it's particularly bad. The medicine prescribed by the family doctor isn't working, and she refuses to go to the hospital. Azheng said you know about traditional Chinese medicine, so... is it convenient for you to come over?"
Song Zhiyi's fingers tightened slightly as she gripped the microphone.
She knew how Huo's mother treated her. At every family dinner, she could feel the polite yet distant scrutiny, the seemingly relevant but actually probing inquiries, and the subtle hints about "marrying someone of equal social standing."
But she also sensed the worry in Old Master Huo's voice. That old man was the only person in the Huo family who had treated her sincerely from the very beginning.
“I’m coming right away,” she said.
Grandpa Huo sounded visibly relieved. "I'll have the driver pick you up."
"No need, I'll just take a taxi myself, it'll be faster."
After hanging up the phone, Song Zhiyi went to the wardrobe and changed out of her loungewear. She chose a simple beige knit sweater and dark trousers, casually tying her hair into a low ponytail. Then she opened the drawer, took out the dark blue acupuncture kit, and checked the needles and sterilization supplies inside.
Before leaving the house, she paused for a few seconds in front of the mirror.
The woman in the mirror had a calm, unreadable expression. But she knew in her heart that this was not just a house call, but a difficult ice-breaking operation.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com