Wang Xiaoke listened to Wang Chengyao’s labored coughing, her mind completely blank. Her only thought was to see her father as soon as possible.

Even the shouts from Chen Ze behind her faded into the background.

Although Wang Chengyao had said that day he no longer considered her his daughter, the moment she heard him weakly calling her name, all her resentment and anger dissipated like smoke.

After all, they were father and daughter. She carried his blood in her veins. No matter how wrong he had been, he was still one of her few close relatives in this world.

“Dad, please, you must be okay,” Wang Xiaoke silently prayed.

At the Wang residence.

“Chengyao, if you wanted Xiaoke to come back, you could’ve just called her. Why push yourself to this point?” Feng Jin looked helplessly at Wang Chengyao, who was huddled under two blankets with a pale face.

Wang Chengyao was a man who valued his pride. Even though he was extremely worried when Wang Xiaoke ran away from home, he had stubbornly refrained from calling her for two whole days to save face.

After a sleepless night of deliberation, he had finally come up with a plan that wasn’t too difficult to execute—taking several cold showers the night before.

“It’s almost autumn now. You’re not young anymore, so why are you messing around with cold showers?” Feng Jin handed him some cold medicine, sighing. “Take the medicine now. If this gets worse, it won’t be worth it.”

“I’ll take it later, after Xiaoke comes back.”

Wang Chengyao waved his hand weakly. “Feng Jin, could you check if Xiaoke is back yet? If she is, let me know in advance.”

Feng Jin was well aware of her husband’s intentions. She sighed and set the medicine aside, keeping an ear out for any movement outside.

Wang Xiaoke rushed all the way from the hospital, sweating profusely. Putting aside the father-daughter conflict from before, she anxiously asked the man lying in bed, “Dad, what’s wrong? How did you get this sick?”

Having been reminded by Feng Jin earlier, Wang Chengyao had already composed himself, slipping into character. Hearing her concern, he forced a feeble smile.

“Don’t worry about me, Xiaoke. It’s just a little cold, nothing serious. Cough, cough, cough…”

Before he could finish, another round of violent coughing wracked his body.

“Dad, this isn’t right. We need to go to the hospital,” Wang Xiaoke said as she tried to help him up.

“Xiaoke, I told you, it’s nothing. You don’t need to worry.” Wang Chengyao waved his hand weakly, refusing her suggestion.

“But you really don’t look well. Have you taken your medicine? Let me get it for you,” Xiaoke said, retreating slightly. She picked up the medicine on the table and handed it to him, only to see her father shaking his head again.

“Dad, what are you doing? You’re acting like a stubborn child.”

The moment Wang Xiaoke said this, Wang Chengyao knew his opportunity had finally come. He coughed dramatically again, then looked at her with a pained expression.

“Xiaoke, this physical illness is nothing. What I have is a sickness of the heart,” he said, his voice hoarse from the coughing.

“No matter what kind of illness it is, you still have to take your medicine first.”