Chapter 6: Crow Brother

The diagnosis went more smoothly than expected. In the afternoon, Lin Xiaqing took the chest X-rays they had taken earlier in the morning to the doctor. That same day, the doctor arranged for Qiao Chunjin to be admitted to the hospital.

The doctor frowned and said, “Pleurisy. It’s not a particularly serious illness at first, but it’s been delayed for too long. There’s a lot of fluid buildup and it’ll need to be drained. It won’t get better overnight. Get her admitted as soon as possible. Do you have the money ready?”

He probably noticed how shabby Lin Xiaqing looked. She was at the age when young girls most cared about appearances, yet she wore an obviously old and outdated floral shirt clearly passed down from some elderly relative. The family must be in financial trouble. Though the girl had delicate, pleasant features, beauty doesn’t pay the bills. They didn’t qualify for subsidized care, and hospitals weren’t charitable institutions. Once the admission papers were signed, if they couldn’t pay, they’d be neck-deep in medical debt.

Besides, he had his own family to support. The hospital director had said in a meeting that there were too many unpaid medical bills, so now it was personal: whoever brought in a patient who couldn’t pay would have their bonus docked.

But Lin Xiaqing didn’t bat an eye. “We have the money ready, doctor. Don’t worry, we won’t put you in a difficult spot.”

Heaven help her—only she knew that all she had was the 50 yuan Zhu Er had given her. That wouldn’t even cover the cost of a single drainage procedure.

“That’s good then,” the doctor said. Perhaps feeling guilty for being so blunt to a teenage girl, he softened a bit. “When you go buy things later, don’t shop near the hospital. Everything is overpriced. There’s a small market not far from here—more variety and fair prices.”

The hospital shops were all run by the director’s relatives and outrageously expensive. Villagers couldn’t afford those prices.

Lin Xiaqing immediately understood—after all, workers knew workers’ struggles. She sincerely thanked the doctor for his kind advice.

The inpatient ward had just been renovated that spring. The hallway still reeked of fresh paint, and Zhu Er, who was allergic to it, couldn’t stop sneezing. Lin Xiaqing opened all the windows to ventilate the room, then looked back and saw his face was already turning blotchy red. She urged him to leave quickly—the village was still twenty li away (about 10 kilometers).

By some stroke of luck, all three beds in their hospital room were still empty. The nurse hadn’t assigned beds yet, so Lin Xiaqing naturally unloaded their luggage onto the bed by the window.

Their ward was on the third floor—just above the row of camphor trees outside. The window view was perfect: half trees, half sky. Being near the window had its pros and cons. It was fine during the day—no mosquitoes yet—but at night, once the sun set, bugs would start swarming in from the greenery.

She planned to scout out the nurse’s station, hot water room, and bathrooms, then go buy mosquito coils. On the way, she’d think about what other necessities they might need.

After Zhu Er left, the room suddenly felt quiet and cold.

Qiao Chunjin needed to use the bathroom first. Lin Xiaqing helped her there and back. But when they returned, the bed by the window—the one Lin Xiaqing had chosen—was already occupied by a young man. Judging from his back, he was fairly well-built.

This guy had no manners. He hadn’t even taken off his shoes and sprawled out over the bed, making the already-narrow hospital bed look even more cramped.

Suppressing her anger, Lin Xiaqing said gently, “Comrade, this bed is already taken.”

No response.

Pretending to be dead?

She pressed her lips together, then poked his back.

That was a mistake—she nearly hurt herself. His muscles were rock-solid. Her finger felt like it hit stone.

Her voice rose. “Comrade, this is my mother’s bed. Please move.”

Finally, the man turned around. His face contorted slightly in pain, and his voice was cold and distant. “Sorry, my legs and arms are injured. I can’t move easily.”

When she got a good look at his face, Lin Xiaqing jumped in surprise.

His clothes looked sharp—his appearance could be described, in modern terms, as classically elite. He wore a lake-blue open-collar shirt with a crisp pair of pressed slacks, but his face was smudged in black grease, as if he had just crawled out of a car repair shop. Still, underneath the grime, his sharply defined features were undeniably handsome.

Qiao Chunjin tugged her sleeve and whispered, “Let him lie down. His limbs really do seem injured. He frowns every time he moves.”

Fine then, Lin Xiaqing thought spitefully. Let him lie there. Hopefully when the sun goes down, all the mosquitoes from outside come in and feast on him. Go ahead, little darlings, have all you can eat—his blood, his flesh, don’t be shy.

She had picked that bed first, and he had just taken it without a second thought.

The man didn’t thank her or say anything else. His face, dirtied with motor oil, was calm and serious, as if silently enduring pain.

Lin Xiaqing began setting up the bed next to his, grumbling to herself as she spread the sheets: Smug bastard. Think you’re so great? A proud, aloof crow.

Crow—that’s what she nicknamed him. Who asked him to lie there with a face full of black motor oil, sleeping like he owned the place?

As she sat by the window peeling an apple for Qiao Chunjin, the narrow, reflective fruit knife showed Crow Brother’s peaceful sleeping face.

He had long, curled eyelashes, the kind of natural baby curl modern beauty trends adored. He was slim, so his Adam’s apple was pronounced. It moved slightly when he breathed in his sleep, and every time it moved, Lin Xiaqing wondered: Doesn’t it feel weird having such a big thing lodged in your throat?

Okay, maybe that was a silly question. Men never complained about the dangling bits between their legs, and in fact, they seemed quite proud of those features—symbols of virility and strength.

She had a habit. Whenever she peeled an apple, she would silently make a bet with herself: if the peel didn’t break, the day would bring good luck; if it snapped, misfortune loomed. It was like her personal fortune-telling ritual before doing business or signing a big deal.

If her luck was good, she’d go all in, acting fearless and confident. If it was bad, she’d tread carefully—maybe the other party was trying to set a trap.

She had a bad feeling today. Halfway through peeling the apple, someone kicked open the hospital room door. BANG! It slammed into the wall. At the same moment, her apple peel snapped.

Three young men entered. The leader was a short, stocky guy, but his presence was overpowering. He wore flashy imported clothes—completely out of place in this small, conservative county still wearing old-fashioned blue and green shirts. Reform and Opening Up had only just begun, and even in the capital, most youths still wore vests and khaki pants. But this guy strutted in with a wide-collared floral shirt and flared jeans, completely unfazed by the current nationwide crackdown on crime.

Lin Xiaqing quickly recognized his two defining traits: one, his face was covered in pockmarks; and two, his expression clearly said, I’m not someone you can mess with.

Luckily, he wasn’t here for her. Guys like him obviously had connections. No way she, a small fry, could afford to offend him.

Pockmark Guy was holding a medical chart and stormed straight toward Crow Brother’s bed. The two scrawny lackeys behind him followed closely like obedient puppies.

Lin Xiaqing noticed all three had some kind of injury. One had a broken arm in a sling, another had gauze on a stitched-up forehead, and the last one limped heavily, clearly new to the art of pretending to be crippled.

She sensibly stepped aside, creating a clear path, and subtly hid the fruit knife behind her back, gripping it tightly.

“You’re Jin Yang?” Pockmark Guy slammed the chart on Crow Brother’s face and growled, “I’ll remember you.”

“Cheng-ge,” one of the lackeys chimed in, “this guy refused to pay for the car repairs and beat us up like this. How can we just let that go?”

Lin Xiaqing rolled her eyes. What kind of brain-dead friends does this guy hang out with? In He County, the ongoing anti-crime campaign was in full swing. Police were desperate for arrests, and these idiots were out here stirring up trouble, practically begging to go to jail.

Crow Brother, clearly woken up in the middle of a good nap, sat up from the bed, looking thoroughly annoyed.

“You rear-ended me, and now you’re trying to scam me for repair costs?” Jin Yang scoffed. Unbelievable. This was truly a day of bad luck. The new car he had painstakingly brought back from Hainan had been wrecked by this group of idiots. The rear end was completely dented.

The car hadn’t exactly come through legitimate channels—he had used some tricks and smarts to get it. Jin Yang had resigned himself to the bad luck. He planned to drive it back to Beijing, find a connection at a repair shop, and restore it to perfection. But He County wasn’t a good place to linger—too many complications.

He never expected a minor crash to lead to the car breaking down completely, and now these idiots were clinging to him, demanding compensation.

Jin Yang wasn’t afraid of local bullies—He County was just a tiny speck on the map. Not worth his time.

But as he looked at this brainless thug refusing to let go, he thought: Snakes don’t scare me—but rabid dogs? Those are the worst. Especially the kind that bite and still don’t know who the real boss is.