Better Than Summer: A Marriage Before Love Romance - Chapter 23

After rounds, Xi Chengnan was called to the emergency department for a consultation. The patient was a 35-week pregnant advanced-age mother in critical condition. The OB/GYN consultant was Xi Chengnan’s mother, Duan Xiyun.

In the emergency conference room, their interaction bore no resemblance to that of mother and son—they were purely two doctors consulting on a case. After about an hour, a surgical plan was finalized: first, a cesarean section in the supine position to deliver the baby, followed by repositioning to the lateral position for a craniotomy.

After the consultation, Xi Chengnan stopped his mother as they left the conference room: “Mom, when are you and Dad free? There’s something I need to discuss with you.” He had promised Shen Tingxia’s parents and couldn’t delay any longer. Besides, his parents ought to know he was married.

Duan Xiyun strode ahead but slowed slightly at her son’s words, though she didn’t stop. She glanced sideways and asked, “What is it? Your dad and I will check our schedules later and let you know tonight.”

“Alright. I’ll tell you in person.”
“Fine. Now go prep for surgery.”

After years in medicine, this was Xi Chengnan’s first time operating alongside his mother. The procedure was complex, challenging every doctor involved.

Shen Tingxia wore flats to work for once. At her desk, she asked Zhuang Wenshu, “Is Libby feeling better?”
Zhuang Wenshu looked more composed than the day before: “I’m fine now, Tingxia. I can handle fieldwork today—really!”
“Are you sure? Today’s workload is heavier than yesterday’s. Bella and I will go.” Shen Tingxia refused to risk anyone’s health. “Bella will brief you on everything afterward. Rest today; I’ll take you tomorrow.”
Zhuang Wenshu pouted pleadingly, “Please, Tingxia! Take me with you!”
Shen Tingxia had no intention of babysitting a sick colleague during intensive work. “Tomorrow,” she insisted. “And you’re not slacking off today—compile the quotes from yesterday. I’ll send you Guojin’s data too. Have it done by EOD. Bella, pack up. We’re leaving soon.”

She’d meant to organize the quotes herself last night as a template. But in Xi Chengnan’s study, surrounded by shelves of books and the scent of paper, she’d dozed off at the desk. Xi Chengnan eventually woke her—she’d drowsily pressed the “X” key long enough to fill a dozen pages with the letter.

In the break room, Shen Tingxia ran into Lin Muning. Noticing she was shorter without heels, he glanced down and saw the band-aids on her feet—a reminder of yesterday’s marathon in stilettos.
“Tingxia, maybe I should ask Kevin to switch—I’ll handle fieldwork.”
Shen Tingxia paused at the coffee machine and turned, knowing what he’d seen. “Do I look that fragile? Too weak for fieldwork over a few blisters? You underestimate me, Lin Muning.”
Lin raised three fingers solemnly. “I swear I don’t! It’s just that fieldwork’s grueling with less payoff than online campaigns.”
Confused, Shen Tingxia countered, “So you’re confident you’d do better?”
He shook his head. “Then let the results decide,” she said. “Fieldwork is the real challenge.” Though unsure of her own success, she had ideas. As coffee brewed, she added bluntly, “We’re partners, but competitors too. Right?”
Lin smiled. “Or… a couple?”
“Was I unclear yesterday?” She’d rejected him plainly and confirmed her suspicion—he was interested.
Lin chuckled, unembarrassed. “Feelings change. Aren’t women famously unpredictable?”
“You don’t know me. I stand firm.” Mostly true, she thought—except about disliking younger men.
The simplest way to end this would be to reveal her marriage. No decent person would pursue a married woman. But disclosing that risked her career—women, especially married ones without children, faced enough bias. Her mid-level role already drew envy; promotion to VP or GM would take years. Until she changed jobs (and faced background checks), secrecy was safest.
“Is that so?” Lin probed.
“Would it matter if I were married?” She tested his limits.
“People divorce,” he shrugged.
“What if I had a child?”
“So?” His flippant tone vanished. Half a second later, shock widened his eyes. “Are you married with a kid?”
His voice carried. Shen Tingxia scanned the empty room, forced a smile, and grabbed her coffee. “As if!”

Back at her desk, Shen Tingxia downed the coffee before taking Zhao Xuning on fieldwork. At a red light, Lin’s “married with a kid” remark resurfaced, then Xi Chengnan’s question about the scar on her abdomen after their first night: Had she been married? Had a child? He’d joked, “Divorced is fine—I don’t mess with wives,” knowing full well it wasn’t a C-section scar. A horn blared behind her—the light had turned green. Why was she thinking about Xi Chengnan… and that absurd night? She switched lanes, purging the thoughts.

Flats spared her feet pain but not exhaustion. Home at last, she found Xi Chengnan already there, working at his laptop.
“You’re back early?”
“Finished surgery early.” He’d been on the day shift, but it was still 7:30 PM.
She flopped onto the sofa, limbs splayed, shedding the day’s weight. “Surgery go well?”
“Smooth. The baby was 2.35 kg.”
“Baby?” She craned her neck, puzzled. “You’re neurosurgery.”
“Today was a joint surgery with Mom. The baby’s healthy; the mother’s stable.” His voice softened, lingering on the moment. He’d witnessed births during his OB rotation, but collaborating with his mother made this one unique. “Newborns aren’t pretty—wrinkled, coated in vernix. But the feeling… it’s hard to describe.”
Shen Tingxia stared, incredulous and slightly disgusted. “Hold on—are you the father?”
His expression cleared instantly. “Of course not.”
“Then why the sentimental dad vibe?” She smirked.
“…” Had he sounded like that?

She opened a food delivery app. “Did you eat? Want me to order for you?”
“No dinner with your male colleague today?” His tone teased, not jealous.
“He didn’t ask today—he asked for Saturday. Want to join us?”
“…Can’t.” Night shift.
She ignored the jab. “I’m getting luosifen. Want some?”
“Not in this house! Eat it downstairs.” His voice sharpened.
“Why? Can’t stand the smell?” He didn’t answer. Once, his cousin Xi Sibe had eaten luosifen here; he’d slept at the hospital for three days and aired out the apartment for a week. Everything washable got scrubbed. Whether psychological or not, the smell had seared into his memory.
At his unyielding glare, she relented: “Fine, no luosifen.”
As she browsed other options, he asked, “Want fried rice?”
“Which place? I’ll search.”
“Mine. Want some?”
Free food? Only a fool refused. “Yes.”

Soon, he served her fried rice with a spoon and slid his laptop aside. “I’ll tell my parents about our marriage soon. Should you come with me, or should I tell them first?”
“What’s normal?” she asked between bites.
He cited a friend: “Luo Jichen and Lu Qiao’an met each other’s parents, then both sets met, got engaged, married, then had a wedding. Our situation… doesn’t fit.”
“Any precedents for us?”
“Not in my circle. Uncharted territory.” He laughed. “How many like us are there?”
“Fair point.” She chewed, thinking. “I’ll go with you. It’s more respectful.”
He nodded. As he reached for his laptop, his phone buzzed—a WeChat from his mother:

Mom: Your dad and I are free Sunday afternoon/evening. Come home?
X: Yes. I’ll bring Sibe.
He’d mention Shen Tingxia later—Saturday was his night shift; Sunday was open.
“Saturday’s your dinner,” he said. “Free Sunday night?”
“What? Can’t stand your wife dining with another man? Trying to save face?” The quip slipped out.
He scoffed. “I don’t care who you eat with.”
“Then why?”
Xi Chengnan smiled faintly. “Time for the ‘ugly’ daughter-in-law to meet her in-laws.”
At “ugly,” she glared. “You’re the ugly one!”