After confirming with the warehouse, Ying Ni handed over the last document to her supervisor for review, completing her work handover.

As she carried the cardboard box out of the company’s door, instead of feeling anger or grievance, what she felt more was a sense of liberation—an internal release, a relief that spread throughout her body.

In the following days, she stayed at home, barely leaving, lying down from morning to night, as if she wanted to sleep away all the fatigue from the past few years.

After four full days of rest, she finally mustered the energy to go to the hospital.

The rainy season hadn’t ended yet, and the weather was damp. Ying Ni opened all the windows and doors for ventilation.

The caregiver’s daughter had just finished her college entrance exams, and the results were coming out tonight. All morning, her face showed anxiety as she constantly looked up at the clock.

After wiping down her mother’s body and feeding her liquid food at noon, Ying Ni told the caregiver to go home.

“I’m really sorry. I don’t need today’s wages. I’ll come back early tomorrow to change the bed sheets,” the caregiver said, holding her bag and looking embarrassed.

“It’s fine, just come as usual,” Ying Ni replied, standing up and walking with the caregiver to the door. After they stepped outside, Ying Ni pulled out an envelope with a red packet inside, the words “Gold List Honor” written on it.

The caregiver quickly waved her hands. “No, no, I can’t take this.”

“Why can’t you take it? You’ve been so careful with my mom. Besides, it’s not much money—just a little something for good luck,” Ying Ni insisted, pushing the red packet into the caregiver’s cloth bag. “Mom is napping, so don’t disturb her.”

The caregiver bit her lip, but Ying Ni took the opportunity to shut the door behind her.

Not long after the caregiver left, Chen Jingjing wheeled in a small cart with a tray containing sterile cups, humidification fluids, syringes, and other items.

Ying Ni, while removing a pillowcase, asked, “More suctioning?”

Chen Jingjing nodded, noticing Ying Ni placing the pillow on the neatly folded blanket before lifting it up. “Are you going to dry the blankets?”

“This weather finally has some sun.” The pillow was slightly high, blocking part of Ying Ni’s view, and she tilted her head to look outside. “If we can dry them, we will.”

After checking the vacuum pump, Chen Jingjing said, “The hospital’s bed linens are all rigorously disinfected.”

Ying Ni walked out, holding the pillow. “I know. Mom likes the smell of the sun.”

Chen Jingjing turned back, speaking with a sense of sentiment. “My mom’s the same. As soon as the sun comes out, she has to take everything out of the closet to dry—clothes, pants, bed sheets… even socks. Can you believe it?

A hundred-square-meter balcony can’t fit it all, and she still complains. My brother says we should just buy the upstairs apartment too…”

She paused abruptly, catching herself mid-sentence as if realizing she’d said something inappropriate.

Ying Ni didn’t react, walking past her without acknowledging it.

The sun during the rainy season was weak, and the ground was dotted with patches of light filtering through tree branches, but once she looked up, it seemed like the sunlight was gone again.

After hanging the blankets on the specially set-up metal rods, Ying Ni sat in the shade of a tree, playing with her phone.

Several nurses passed by, chatting casually. Their voices were neither too loud nor too soft, and it sounded like they were gossiping about patients.

Ying Ni, with a cigarette in her mouth, remembered the last time she was in the hallway making an insurance call, when a few nurses were eating take-out and chatting.

They didn’t realize there was someone behind the door, and as the conversation went on, they became more animated.

Ying Ni was about to go back to the ward, but it felt awkward to leave immediately. The nurses belonged to the same floor, and one of them, along with Chen Jingjing, was responsible for both Lin Rongyuan’s and the neighboring patient’s care.

To avoid any awkwardness or unnecessary trouble, Ying Ni was forced to play the role of a listener.

It all started when one nurse saw Chen Jingjing getting into a luxury car, and another nurse mentioned seeing her get into a different one.

They first discussed whether the owners of the two cars were the same person, and then speculated, based on the way Chen Jingjing secretly got into the car, that she must be a mistress or the other person was an old man reeking of old age.

“She’s not good-looking, and her family background is average. How could anyone possibly like her?”

“Just for fun. Even if the car’s expensive, it’s not hers. It’s not even in her name.”

“Exactly. Look at what she’s wearing, all cheap stuff. What’s the point of being with someone like that? Rich people aren’t stupid. They might show her off, but whether they’ll spend money on her is a whole different story.”

After that, they all laughed lightly.

Then the conversation continued.

“I really look down on people like that, willing to do anything for money.”

“I would never be a mistress even if I had a billion!”

“A mistress is still better than being with some seventy- or eighty-year-old man, with no teeth, a face full of wrinkles, shedding flakes of skin when he lifts his hand, climbing into your bed at night—”

The conversation was interrupted by a cough from behind the door. The nurses looked at each other, quickly packed up their food, and walked toward the reception desk.

Once their footsteps faded away, Ying Ni pushed open the door. As she returned, she bumped into Chen Jingjing, who had come to check on her.

That day, Chen Jingjing was wearing velvet lace-up heels, and Ying Ni thought they looked good. Chen Jingjing asked where she bought them.

Ying Ni gave her a website, and after looking at it for a while, Chen Jingjing frowned. Ying Ni thought she was probably disappointed, considering the price—cheaply made with a hard sole that was certainly not real leather.

But the next moment, Chen Jingjing excitedly shoved her phone in front of Ying Ni’s face, “Look at this! This one is only 78, yours cost 130, it’s half the price!”

Ying Ni noticed the huge words on the top bar of the website: “1678 Taobao Special Price” and thought to herself, “How can someone be thriftier than me?”

Chen Jingjing eagerly said the website had great deals and recommended she download the app.

Ying Ni declined, saying her phone’s memory was full.

“How about another one?” Chen Jingjing insisted.

Ying Ni coldly rejected, “I don’t buy things often.”

Chen Jingjing blinked and cutely said, “I’ll send you a 5.8 yuan coupon.”

Ying Ni was speechless.

Based on the things Chen Jingjing hinted at and the abrupt way she stopped mid-sentence, Ying Ni concluded that Chen Jingjing was a cautious and low-key rich person.

And she wasn’t born into wealth, but had probably experienced poverty before becoming wealthy.

Chen Jingjing had a mother who had suffered from a serious illness but rarely mentioned her father. What she talked about most was her brother, a typical “brother worshipper,” who was seen as superior to anyone, even to deities, though she never discussed any details.

Ying Ni speculated that Chen Jingjing’s father had probably passed away, and her brother was the one who built the family’s wealth.

But the siblings had a large age gap, and they could easily afford to buy a second apartment with a hundred-square-meter balcony in Heze, a place with sky-high property prices.

This meant their liquid assets were definitely in the hundreds of millions. Given the age, it was likely the brother was in his forties or fifties, and perhaps even balding with a beer belly, which would explain why people mistook him for someone dating a younger mistress.

Though these speculations didn’t concern Ying Ni at all.

As long as Chen Jingjing was responsible for Lin Rongyuan’s care, that was all that mattered.

The sky clouded over, and the sun disappeared entirely. The wind rustled the leaves, signaling the arrival of rain. Ying Ni stamped out her cigarette, quickly gathered the blankets and pillows.

On her way back, Chen Jingjing informed her that the sputum was slightly darker, which might indicate an infection, and she would have a doctor come check on it.

Ying Ni nodded. Long-term bedridden patients, like those in a vegetative state, often have sputum accumulation or food aspiration that leads to lung infections.

Lin Rongyuan had this problem several times a year, but it was usually mild and resolved with a few days of medication.

The leisurely comfort of staying at home was gradually replaced by anxiety about her dwindling savings. After returning from the hospital to her rented apartment, Ying Ni started sending out hundreds of job applications.

Most went unanswered, and only a few sent vague responses like, “Sorry, not a good fit for you~” or directly pointed out, “This position requires a full-time undergraduate degree.”

The next day, an HR representative proactively reached out, and Ying Ni’s eyes lit up as she clicked on the message.

The representative asked: “Are you okay with working night shifts?”

Ying Ni: “I’m a professional night owl!”

HR: “Haha, great!”

HR: “What are your measurements?”

Ying Ni: “88, 59, 9.”

Wasn’t this a sales job? What did her measurements have to do with it? Realizing this, Ying Ni paused and then glanced at the small white Hello Kitty ashtray on the desk, reaching for the cigarette box, only to find it was empty…