Just as I remembered, Mom had transferred to Shangjing Traditional Chinese Medicine Hospital yesterday—the one closest to home.

Compared to Western medicine, TCM truly works better for chronic illnesses.

In this world, almost everything can be disguised with flowery words or pretty pictures—except death. For life, death is simply the end. Clean. Brutal. Extra words only deepen the sorrow.

The TCM vs. Western medicine debate has raged for ages. But I’ve never understood this: if there’s a ¥100 bill and an NT$400 bill on the ground, why do people argue over which one to pick up?

Why not take both?

“When cutting, don’t press too hard—it ruins the texture. Just chop it finely.”

At home, I demonstrated basic knife skills to Xiaodie.

“Next, removing the meat’s gaminess. There are many ways. Lazy households usually keep cooking wine—just pour it over the meat. But since this is for a patient, no alcohol. Mom has a blood disorder, and ginger promotes circulation and detoxifies. Perfect for deodorizing.”

I mixed the minced meat and ginger in a bowl with salt and warm water, then washed my hands. “Let this sit. Xiaodie, pass me those sweet potato leaves.”

“Got it!”

Taking the washed leaves from her, I turned on the stove. “For stir-frying greens, heat the wok first. Add cold oil to the hot wok, then toss in the leaves.”

“Sweet potato leaves prevent constipation, slow aging, boost platelets, and stop bleeding. Mom’s bedridden and inactive—eating these helps. Oh, and garlic! Adding one or two cloves while cooking prevents most digestive issues. Great seasoning too.”

(Notably, garlic belongs to the lily family.)

I smoothly dumped the main ingredients and seasonings into the wok. Soon, fragrant steam filled the kitchen.

“The minced meat’s done deodorizing too. Scoop out some ginger, add salt and water, then steam it.”

When I was little and hyperactive, Mom would chase me with this lean meat soup to boost my nutrition. Now it’s my turn to care for her.

“What’s wrong?”

Xiaodie had gone quiet behind me. I turned around.

“So amazing…”

Stars sparkled strangely in the girl’s eyes.

“Huh?”

“Yi Yao, you look exactly like a blushing housewife right now! Whoever marries you will be ridiculously happy… No, I won’t allow that! Yi Yao, marry me instead!”

She pounced into my arms. “Decision made! You’re my personal chef from now on.”

“Hey, wait—”

They say conquering a girl’s stomach wins her heart. But in reality, few girls actively invite you to conquer theirs.

To save money, most office workers quit takeout and learned to cook solo dinners.

Seven years later, Shangjing City graduates earned an average of ¥2,000 monthly. After ¥600 rent and ¥100 utilities, plus basics like phone bills and toothpaste, only ¥1,000 remained. That meant no daily ¥20 takeout meals—you had to cook.

And that was assuming perfect health.

Even a common cold cost hundreds at the hospital. Scratch a luxury car by accident? The repair fee could wipe you out.

Back then, I also had to repay Dad’s debts and my student loans every month.

People adapt when pushed.

“How will you ever get married acting like this?”

Once the soup and porridge were ready, I packed them into Dad’s old patient lunchbox and beckoned to Xiaodie. “Let’s go.”

“Huh? I haven’t found your secret yet!”

Huang Yingdie, now in my home, nosed around like a curious kitten. “I refuse to believe you’ve always been this strong. There must be something you’re scared of.”

“I’m scared of girls like you.”

I sighed softly and opened the door. “Come or I’ll lock you in.”

“No, no! Coming!”

She fluttered over like a little butterfly, changed shoes, and took the lunchbox. “So fragrant… Your mom must be the happiest person alive.”

“I hope so…”

In my last life, Mom’s final words haunted me:

“Yi Yao… I wish you were a girl…”

She left no other instructions—no “study hard” or “marry well.” Just that baffling sentence.

I sensed she was trying to tell me something, but buried in studies, I never dug deeper.

If I were a girl, how would my fate change?

Would I have been tricked into martial arts because girls trusted me easily? Would Dad have ignored my plummeting grades after I skipped class for internet cafes? Or refused to fund a daughter’s education?

None of those sounded like improvements.

The hospital was so close we didn’t even need an e-bike. Listening to Xiaodie chatter, we soon reached the hematology ward of Shangjing TCM Hospital.

“Mom.”

I pushed open the familiar door, leading Xiaodie inside.

Four beds. One empty. Three patients.

…That empty bed would hold an old lady in a week. She’d pass away three days after admission.

Like a battlefield, you never knew when a roommate would vanish from this world.

You might joke with them at dawn—by dusk, they’d be gone.

“Xiao Yao.” Mom wasn’t on IV or blood transfusion today. Her condition seemed stable.

“And she is… the mayor’s daughter?”

Mom’s words drew the other patients’ stares.

“Auntie.”

Unfazed by the attention, Xiaodie placed the lunchbox on the bedside table and sat on the stool beside Mom. “I’m Huang Yingdie. Call me Xiaodie.”

“Xiaodie… What a lovely name.”

I saw Mom try to reach from under the covers, then stop. She just smiled gently at Xiaodie.

I’d seen those hands often—frequent needle pricks had shriveled the veins. The hospital had left an IV port implanted for future infusions.

Probably worried about scaring the young girl.

“Mom, where’s Dad?”

As I pulled out the bed’s dining tray and unfolded its side supports, I asked casually.

“He went out to buy fruit.”

Mom watched me set up the tray, puzzled. “You’ve never been here before, Xiao Yao. How do you know how to use this?”

My hand froze over the lunchbox.

*Damn. Forgot this is my first time here.*

I could explain knowing her room by asking nurses, but this tray mechanism? Even in my last life, I needed Dad’s help to figure it out the first time. Without prior use, I shouldn’t even know it existed.

Yet I’d handled it so smoothly…

“I saw this hospital’s ads in magazines before.”

I brushed it off, arranging the porridge and soup. “Never mind that—let’s eat. Everything’s from the neighborhood market. All-natural.”

My phone buzzed—a message from Dad: *Yi Yao, I’m outside the ward. Come out. Need to talk.*

“Mom, I’ll be right back. Xiaodie will keep you company.”

“Okay.” Eager to taste her daughter’s cooking, Mom didn’t question further.

Outside, Dad waved from the stairwell, cigarette in hand.

“What is it?”

I covered my nose, frowning as I approached.

He took a long drag, crushed the butt in the trash can. “You and Huang Yingdie are friends?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you seen the online rumors about her father?”

“No. What rumors?”

I’d spent every day training. Online, I only checked tech forums—no time for gossip.

“The whole net’s ablaze. They say the mayor embezzled ¥100 million.”

“Impossible. Don’t believe everything online.”

*(Though he would later be convicted for tens of millions in graft and crippling Shangjing’s economy…)*

“Point is, son—I don’t advise continuing this friendship.”

“His crimes aren’t Xiaodie’s fault.”

“Think ahead. If the court seizes their assets and she’s homeless, begging for loans—what then? Will you support her?”

Like most in this city, Dad was a fair-weather friend.

Opportunistic. Fawning.

Survival instincts, I supposed.

“Don’t worry. Even if her family falls, Xiaodie won’t ask me for money.” I patted his shoulder. “She’s with Mom right now. If you doubt her character, go see for yourself.”