An Xin quickly handed the buns in her hands to her three younger siblings. As expected, she saw joy flash across their faces. She replied casually, “Mom, you should have some too. See how they taste? I told you, I made them myself—they’re not worth much. Let the kids enjoy them.”

Her mother’s thoughts were practically written all over her face. The An family was poor, and her mother was afraid that An Xin was spending too much of Bai Yichen’s money. She worried that he might look down on her daughter or treat her poorly because of it.

If her mother knew that everything in this courtyard was paid for with her own money, maybe she wouldn’t feel so burdened.

After all, how many men would willingly support their wives’ families after marriage? Cover their medical bills or provide for their needs?

The fact that Bai Yichen allowed An Xin to bring her mother to the provincial hospital for treatment had already left Chen Hongyan deeply grateful. She was doing everything she could to save on expenses, hoping to lessen the financial burden on her daughter.

But her daughter? An Xin didn’t know the meaning of “restraint.” Since her mother’s hospitalization, she’d been providing the An family with daily meals that were better than they’d ever had, even including meat buns like today’s.

Now, hearing her daughter claim the buns were “cheap” and just a treat for the kids, Chen Hongyan grew even more upset. With a heavy sigh, she reached out and tapped An Xin’s forehead. “You just don’t understand the hardships of life!”

How could An Xin not understand? She gently pushed a small soup-filled bun into her mother’s mouth, smiling as she said, “Mom, I get it. But you need to stop worrying about saving every penny. First, you have to recover. With a healthy body, you can make more money in the future, right?”

Caught off guard by the bun in her mouth, Chen Hongyan couldn’t retort. She could only sigh heavily, resignation etched into her expression.

“Fine, fine,” she thought. It was her daughter’s way of showing love. And An Xin was right—she needed to get better, so she could support her family and stop being a burden.

At that moment, a nurse entered the room, smiling as she observed the happy family. She turned to An Xin and said, “Family of Chen Hongyan, once you’ve finished eating, please come to the doctor’s office. The doctor has some instructions to share.”

An Xin immediately responded, “Okay, I’ll be right there.”

After handing her things to her younger sister, An Yang, she followed the nurse to the doctor’s office.

Inside the office, the elderly Dr. Song, wearing his pristine white coat, looked kindly at An Xin. Gesturing to a chair, he said, “You’re Chen Hongyan’s family member, correct? Please, take a seat.”

“Yes, that’s me. Thank you, Dr. Song,” An Xin replied politely, taking the seat like an attentive student listening to her teacher.

Dr. Song, with a serious tone, said, “We’ve reviewed your mother’s case over the past few days, and we’ve decided to schedule her surgery for tomorrow. Before that, I wanted to make sure her family has no questions or concerns.”

An Xin straightened in her chair, her demeanor instantly serious. “The surgery is tomorrow?”

Dr. Song nodded. “Yes.”

An Xin quickly responded, “We have no issues, but I have one request: please don’t let my mother know about the surgery in advance. I’ll handle all the preparations and procedures.”

She explained, “I’m worried about her mental state. If she finds out, she might become anxious or fearful. If it’s general anesthesia, it’ll be fine, but if it’s local, there’s a chance she could faint from the stress. It’s better if we don’t tell her. Once the surgery is done, she’ll have no choice but to focus on recovery.”

Dr. Song hadn’t expected such a thoughtful request. His expression softened, and a hint of admiration flickered in his eyes. “That’s no problem. I’ll inform the team and make sure everyone keeps it confidential. Just ensure your family cooperates.”

Impressed by An Xin’s foresight, Dr. Song couldn’t help but see her as a filial and considerate child.

After finalizing the details, including the 9 a.m. surgery time, An Xin left the office. She returned to the ward to find her mother lying in bed, looking sleepy and content.

She pulled An Yang aside and quietly shared the news about the surgery. She instructed her to prepare fish soup for their mother and to look after their twin brothers.

Once everything was arranged, An Xin prepared to leave for her night shift as a taxi driver.

From her conversation with Dr. Song, she realized the surgery and recovery would require more funds than she had deposited. The family’s expenses were piling up: her mother’s treatment, nutrition, and her siblings’ upcoming school fees in the city. There was no time to waste—she needed to earn more money.

As she stepped out of the hospital, her sister An Yang ran after her and tugged at her sleeve.

“Where are you going, sis?” she asked softly, worry evident on her face.

An Xin turned to see her sister’s concerned expression. She gently ruffled her slightly messy hair and reassured her, “Stay here and take care of Mom and the boys. I’m just going out to find some work. Don’t worry—I’ll be back before 7 p.m.”

But An Yang’s eyes lit up at her sister’s mention of work.

“Are you going to find work, sis? Take me with you! Two people working together will always be better than one,” she said eagerly.

Children from poor families often grow up quickly, becoming mature beyond their years. An Yang understood that her sister was working to pay for their mother’s treatment.