The staff member quickly snapped to attention, took Song Zhining’s bank card, and began processing the payment.  

“Please enter your password.”  

Soon after, Song Zhining keyed in the password, and the staff printed out a lengthy payment receipt, handing it to her.  

“All set. The total was 82,367 yuan, and the payment has been successfully processed.”  

“Thank you.”  

At this moment, Zhang Jiaxue was stunned speechless, and even Lu Feng felt his face burn with embarrassment.  

Initially, they had assumed she couldn’t afford the medical fees and had even offered to lend her 20,000 yuan. Who would have thought Song Zhining already had the money and paid over 80,000 yuan outright?  

Glancing at her bank balance—now just over 20,000 yuan—Song Zhining reflected on how 150,000 had dwindled to this amount in a single day. That afternoon, she had also repaid the cash advance from her credit card, leaving her with little left. Still, with the medical fees settled, she felt a weight lift off her shoulders.  

“No way! How could you possibly have that kind of money?” Zhang Jiaxue exclaimed, her eyes wide with disbelief.  

Song Zhining tucked the receipt into her bag and shot her a dismissive glance. “That’s none of your concern.”  

With that, she turned and walked away, heading straight for her father’s hospital room. Behind her, Zhang Jiaxue’s furious stomping and heated argument with Lu Feng faded into the background—none of it mattered to Song Zhining anymore.  

The door to the ward was slightly ajar. Pushing it open, Song Zhining immediately saw her father, Song Hemian, lying in bed with an IV drip, and her cousin, Song Qingyang, seated beside him.  

Hearing the noise, Song Hemian, who had been resting with his eyes half-closed, instinctively looked up. The moment he recognized his daughter, his expression softened, and he called out gently, “Ningning.”  

Song Qingyang turned his head, his face lighting up when he saw her. “Ningning, you’re here.”  

“Yeah. Dad, Brother Qingyang, have you eaten yet?” Song Zhining set down a bag of fruit she had bought on the way and placed it on the bedside table.  

“Uncle and I already ate,” Qingyang replied. “The hospital cafeteria staff delivered dinner at 6:30.”  

With Song Heming hospitalized, Song Zhining tied up with work and her younger brothers still studying back home, hiring a nurse at several hundred yuan a day was out of the question. So, her cousin Song Qingyang had been taking care of him all this time.  

Song Zhining had already arranged for the hospital cafeteria to provide three meals a day for both of them for the entire month.  

“Brother Qingyang, thank you for everything.”  

Song Qingyang scratched the back of his head, a warm, honest smile spreading across his sun-tanned face. “It’s no trouble at all. As long as Uncle gets better. You stay and talk with him—I’ll go take a shower first.”  

Originally, he had planned to wait until his uncle’s IV drip was finished before showering. But now that his cousin was here, there was no need to delay. If he waited any longer, he might end up clashing with the patient in the next bed for the bathroom.

This was a double-occupancy ward. The other bed was occupied by a seriously ill elderly man, whose children would visit during the day. At this hour, only his wife remained by his side.  

“Ningning, have you eaten? Why did you come tonight? Isn’t work usually busy for you?”  

Song Zhining sat down on the chair beside the bed, glanced at the half-full IV drip, and adjusted the blanket before answering, “I’ve eaten. Work wasn’t too hectic today, so I came by.”  

She had no intention of telling her father about quitting her job—no need to worry him unnecessarily.  

After just a month in the hospital, her father looked noticeably thinner, his face pale and his energy diminished. Only his eyes, soft and warm as they rested on her, remained the same.  

Or perhaps it was simply that her father had always been a gentle, refined man by nature.  

As Song Zhining reached into the bag for an apple and began peeling it with a small knife, her father suddenly spoke up. “Ningning, I’ve decided to be discharged.”  

Her hands stilled. She looked up sharply, brows furrowed, her voice urgent. “Dad, you’re not better yet. How can you leave? The doctors said surgery is the best option for your condition.”  

Song Hemian offered a faint, reassuring smile. “It’s fine. I feel much better already. Surgery isn’t necessary—resting at home will be just as good.”  

A thought struck her. “Dad… are you worried about the medical expenses?”  

Song Hemian’s gaze flickered, his eyes filling with quiet sorrow as he looked at her.  

Earlier, the nurse had reminded him about the overdue hospital fees. His illness had already cost so much, and staying longer would only add to the burden.  

The disease was hard to treat, and the surgery alone would cost over a million.  

With him bedridden, all the responsibility fell on Ningning’s shoulders.  

Song Hemian would rather die than drag his daughter down.  

Setting the knife and half-peeled apple aside, Song Zhining pulled the freshly issued payment receipts from her bag and stood to show them to her father.  

“Dad, don’t worry. I’ve already paid the medical fees. Look—this is today’s payment confirmation, just a few minutes ago.”  

Song Hemian hesitated, then saw the timestamp on the long receipt—indeed, it was from earlier that evening.  

Paid?!  

That was over 80,000 yuan.  

A sudden fear gripped him. His voice tightened with concern. “Ningning, you mustn’t do anything unethical or harmful to yourself. I’d rather die than see you hurt yourself for my sake.”  

Realizing her father’s imagination had run wild, Song Zhining nearly laughed despite herself. “Dad, I’d never do anything like that.”  

Without hiding the truth, she explained about the stocks and even opened her securities app to show him the transactions.  

“So you see, Dad, there’s no need to worry about the expenses. Just focus on getting better.”

When Song Qingyang returned from his shower, he found his uncle being fed apple slices by his cousin. The older man’s spirits seemed noticeably brighter, the earlier gloom completely gone.  

Qingyang couldn’t help but sigh inwardly—his uncle had clearly been missing his daughter. Just one visit from Ningning, and he already looked more alive.  

It wasn’t until after his cousin left that Qingyang learned from his uncle the astonishing truth: Ningning had somehow turned 10,000 yuan into 150,000 in just three days through stock investments.  

Qingyang stood frozen in shock, taking a long moment to process this.  

Now he understood why his uncle had been talking about discharging himself these past two days. It wasn’t because his condition had improved—he’d known about the financial strain and didn’t want to burden his daughter. No wonder he’d stopped mentioning discharge today, his whole demeanor lighter now that the medical fees were covered. If possible, Qingyang desperately hoped his uncle could recover.  

Leaving the hospital, Song Zhining took the subway back to her hotel room.  

Fresh out of the shower with her hair dried, she had just settled onto the sofa when her phone chimed.  

“Could it be another commission?”  

As the thought crossed her mind, her hand was already reaching for the phone with unconscious urgency.  

Her first commission had proven the Future commission app was real—the rewards had tangibly changed her life. Now, she regarded this “Future Commission” platform with soaring expectations.  

[You have received a new commission. Please check.]  

Her fingertip tapped open the app to the notification.  

A smile blossomed across Song Zhining’s face as her heartbeat quickened. Taking a deep breath, she opened the message.  

What kind of request would it be this time?  

[Time: October 10, 2023, 02:56  

Client: Li Jing  

Request: On September 7, 2018, my idol Shen Xingyi will commit suicide at home. I need you to stop Shen Xingyi from taking his own life and clear his name.]