Chapter 2: The Only Compatible Match

The pallid white flash of lightning swept across a corner of the emergency room, catching on An'an's bruised, blue-purple knuckles. Chen Siqi knelt beside the bed, her fingers pressing against the identification bracelet on the child's wrist; the pulse beneath her fingertips was so fine and weak it seemed to vanish like a strand of silk.

"Mama, I'm cold." An'an's voice was hoarse and muffled, her eyelids heavy and drooping; every word she spoke required her to stop and catch her breath. "My fingers don't seem to feel anything anymore."

Ningning clutched her old rabbit plushie and crouched at the foot of the bed, gazing up in the direction of her father. The man in the dark suit was standing in the doorway, the cuff of his black shirt rolled up to reveal a cold, pale wrist.

"The compatibility results are in." The emergency physician pushed through the door, water stains mottling his dark green scrubs. He held a stack of screening forms in his hand, his gaze shifting between Huo Jingchen and Chen Siqi. "We've gone through every blood bank in the city and the list of registered volunteers. Only one person is a complete match for An'an."

The doctor slapped the screening form onto the desk. The name circled in red was Huo Jingchen.

"Can he donate right now?" Chen Siqi stood up, her knees a bit shaky; she braced herself against the edge of the bed to steady her footing. "Don't make me beg him. Five years ago he already said he didn't want to have anything to do with us anymore."

"His blood work was just completed, and the indicators are within the acceptable range." The doctor turned to Huo Jingchen. "Sir, do you confirm that you wish to donate? This is a familial match; if the procedure succeeds, the child will recover much faster."

Huo Jingchen didn't say a word. He walked straight to the blood preparation area. A nurse handed him a disinfectant cotton swab; he unscrewed the cap with a motion so brisk and decisive that there wasn't a hint of hesitation.

"Mama, Uncle is getting his blood drawn." Ningning, still clutching her rabbit, shuffled a little closer. "His hand didn't even shake just now."

"An'an needs Uncle's blood." Chen Siqi crouched down until she was level with her daughter's eyes. "Once it's drawn, Brother will start to get better. Ningning, tell An'an that Uncle has also helped Mama block the thunder before."

Huo Jingchen rolled up the sleeve of his left arm, revealing the raised blue veins on his forearm. The moment the needle went in, his eyes dropped, his gaze falling on An'an's pale face.

"Don't be afraid." He spoke to An'an, his voice so low that only those beside the bed could hear. "As soon as the blood is drawn, I'll crush those wretched photos Shen Manli took for you to see."

An'an's eyelid trembled, her fingertip twitched, and she stretched her hand out, toward Huo Jingchen.

Forty minutes later, the blood bag was hanging, and An'an's complexion had gradually regained some color. The nurse checked the blood oxygen level; the reading had stabilized. Chen Siqi sat on the long chair in the corridor, the collar of her beige knit cardigan slipping slightly off one shoulder. She didn't bother to fix it, her fingers twisting the lanyard of her ID badge at her chest, the little bear pattern on it pinched a bit out of shape.

The door opened, and Huo Jingchen walked out. He moved fast, his leather shoes striking the tiled floor with a sharp, brisk rhythm. He stopped in front of Siqi, looking down at her. His sword-shaped brows pressed over his narrow eyes, and his gaze was sharp as the edge of a blade.

"March 17, 2021." He spoke, his voice so cold it seemed to carry no warmth at all. "You stayed at my villa until April 2. During that half month, you never left Kuala Lumpur. Not even Shen Manli's people managed to photograph you on the streets."

Chen Siqi lifted her head. The outer corners of her almond eyes dipped slightly; there was a mist of water in them, but no tear fell. "You looked into it? Why are you digging into these things? An'an is lying in there right now."

"The itinerary Shen Manli sent over was a crude forgery." Huo Jingchen pulled a document from the inner pocket of his suit. "On that day, you took a phone call at the hotel. The call log shows it was from a private detective agency. They took that photo and used compositing software. I didn't scrutinize it back then. It wasn't until yesterday, when I saw Ningning, that I remembered the necklace you were wearing in the photo was never in any Kuala Lumpur store counter."

"Why didn't you believe me back then?" Siqi's voice tightened, her knuckles white as she clenched her fingers. "You didn't even ask me a single question. You just cut off all my cards."

"I thought you had changed." Huo Jingchen's jawline went taut, his thin lips pressed firmly together. "Five years ago I shut down every escape route without giving you a chance to explain. That was my mistake, but I do not regret stopping her from continuing to get close to An'an at the time."

Ningning ran out of the ward, her small white shoes pat-patting against the tiles. She tugged at Huo Jingchen's trouser leg and looked up at him. "Uncle, Mama says you're my grandpa. An'an says you're Daddy. Ningning is asking you—who are you, really? If you're grandpa, how is it that you have the little tiger tooth just like mine?"

Huo Jingchen did not crouch down; he simply looked down at his daughter, the pad of his thumb rubbing the plain band wedding ring on his ring finger. "I am your father." He spoke slowly, planting each word firmly. "Ningning, An'an's blood type came from me. You can go ask him directly."

An'an was wheeled into the ward; nurses were changing the IV. Chen Siqi followed inside and sat by the bed, her fingers brushing across An'an's sleeping brow. The shape of that brow was exactly like Huo Jingchen's.

Huo Jingchen stood at the doorway of the ward, not stepping inside. He watched Siqi's back; her short black hair was combed entirely back, the lines at her temples sharp and clean.

A little later, Siqi came out to fetch some water. Huo Jingchen stopped her, pressing a reservation slip into her palm.

"Paternity test appointment slip." He said. "Tomorrow at nine in the morning, Jingchen Laboratory. If you don't say anything, I'll find out myself."

The appointment slip bore the laboratory's phone number, and its sharp edge pressed against Siqi's palm. She looked down at the slip, her fingers slowly releasing it; it fluttered to the floor, one corner lifted by a gust of wind through the hallway.

Ningning stood at the doorway of the hospital room, clutching her rabbit plush, and watched the slip on the ground. She bent down, picked it up, and brushed the dust off it.

"Mama, the uncle gave you this." Ningning handed the slip to Siqi, eyes bright. "Ningning will hold onto it for you until you're done. Mama, promise him. Don't make him wait another night—An'an is calling for you inside."

Siqi took the slip. Her fingertips felt the warmth of the paper, and outside the window, thunder rumbled over again.

Chen Siqi tucked the appointment slip into the inner pocket of her knit cardigan; the edge of the paper pressed against her collarbone, stiff and prickling. She turned and walked back toward the hospital room, her steps heavier than they had been on the way in. An'an was still on the IV drip, the needle taped to the back of his left hand, his skin so pale it was nearly translucent, the fine veins beneath faintly visible. Ningning sat on the child-sized chair beside him, legs dangling and swinging, the rabbit plush hugged to her chest, dried crumbs of biscuit stuck to the fuzz.

Siqi sat down at the bedside, hovering her fingers just above the hairline of An'an's forehead without touching. She thought of the vital signs the nurse had emphasized, of the string of numbers on the stem-cell match screening report, and of how crisply Huo Jingchen had rolled up his sleeves. The plain wedding band was still on his ring finger, unworn for five years. She stared at that ring for a long time, her thumb unconsciously rubbing her knee.

"Mama, has the uncle left?" Ningning's voice drifted over from beside her.

"Not yet. He's waiting outside." Siqi said, her eyes not leaving An'an's face.

"He said he's An'an's father. An'an said he's An'an's father. I think he's right." Ningning hugged the rabbit plush, a small dimple forming in her cheek. "Do you get a prize for guessing right? Mama, when An'an wakes up, I want to hold him first."

Siqi didn't answer. She reached out and tucked the blanket around An'an's feet, her movements light, fingertips brushing the boy's thin shoulders. The air conditioner vent in the hospital room whirred; the IV fluid dripped into the bag, drop by drop, the sound fine and steady.

Lin Xiaowei was on the phone at the far end of the corridor, her voice kept low. "Shen Manli sent another lawyer's letter to the Jingchen Group this afternoon, demanding that I hand over all the hospitalization records by tomorrow." She hung up, glanced in Siqi's direction, didn't come closer, but called out at a raised voice: "Siqi, An'an's blood counts have stabilized. You can go to the corridor for some air. One of Shen Manli's people was pacing downstairs just now."

Siqi rose from the bedside, her knees still a little unsteady. She walked to the window at the end of the corridor; her face was reflected in the glass, her oval features pallid. Outside, Kuala Lumpur's night stretched out in a blaze of light, car headlights on the overpass forming flowing lines. She pressed her phone open and scrolled through to an old photo from five years ago: in it, only she stood alone on the beach in Penang, the background blurred, no Huo Jingchen, no Ningning, no An'an.

"Siqi." Huo Jingchen's voice came from behind her; she had no idea when he had appeared in the corridor, his leather shoes making no sound at all.

She turned. Her almond eyes drooped slightly at the outer corners as she fixed him for two seconds. "You just said the itinerary was faked by Shen Manli. Why would she fake it?"

"That's right." He stepped closer, stopping at the window without touching the glass. "The company was later shut down. Before the person in charge fled, they posted a voice message on social media saying the photos were synthetic. I recorded it."

Siqi's fingers twisted the lanyard of her ID badge, the little bear on it squashed into a distorted shape. "When did you record it? Didn't Shen Manli's people notice you'd changed drivers?"

"January of this year." He said. "Shen Manli thinks I've shut myself off emotionally, so I won't dig up old accounts. She had three people watching me. I had to swap drivers twice before I got the original call records."

"An'an's illness—" Siqi began, her voice very low. "Is it connected to the Huo family trust? Are her people investigating An'an's medical records?"

Huo Jingchen fell silent for a moment, his thin lips pressed together. "Nothing has been traced so far. In the stem-cell matching database, apart from me, there are no other matches. The people on Shen Manli's side are investigating An'an's medical records, and they're moving faster than the hospital."

Siqi said nothing. Wind came through the air vent at the end of the corridor, lifting the collar of her cardigan. Ningning peeked out of the hospital room and called, "Mama, I'm hungry. An'an is still sleeping, so I'm going downstairs first to buy some biscuits."

Siqi glanced down at her phone; it was ten o'clock at night. She slipped the appointment slip away, then took it out of her cardigan's inner pocket again and looked at that laboratory number twice. The edge of the paper had already begun to fray where she had crumpled it.

"Jingchen." She spoke. "If An'an recovers, you saved him. I'll remember that. But I won't accept your apology. All I want is for An'an to live."

"No need to memorize it," he said. "Tomorrow at nine, Jingchen Laboratory. Shen Manli's people will be keeping watch outside. You go through the main entrance, and I'll have someone meet you at the side door."

Siqi didn't answer. She walked back into the ward and lowered herself onto the edge of the bed. Ningning pressed the stuffed rabbit into her hands, a few crumbs of biscuit still clinging to her fingertips.

"Mommy," Ningning said, "Uncle gave you that paper because he wants you to look into it yourself. If you don't, he'll just keep waiting at the door until you say something. Mommy, promise him you will. And when An'an wakes up, I'll hold him."

Siqi took the stuffed rabbit. The plush fur was slightly cool to the touch. She glanced up toward the doorway. Huo Jingchen was still standing where he'd been—neither stepping inside nor leaving. At the far end of the corridor, the light flickered once, then steadied.