We Weren’t Fated, I Just Played My Cards Right - Chapter 2

Room 1414, Qingcheng Second Hospital.

The sudden wailing of a man echoed through the half-open door, nearly filling the entire hallway.

A patient’s family member consulting at the nurse’s station was startled and turned around to locate the source of the crying.

The nurse at the station glanced toward the room diagonally across and twitched her lips but remained firmly seated in her chair.

Soon, another young nurse came out and quietly asked her colleague, “What’s going on?”

The seated nurse tilted her chin toward the room. “Room 1414.”

“Oh,” the young nurse responded knowingly and walked over to the door of Room 1414, intending to kindly close it for them.

But before she could shut it, the middle-aged man inside, who had been wailing, suddenly turned and shouted at her, “Don’t close the door! My mom can’t breathe if it’s closed!”

The young nurse paused her movement and let go of the door.

Though the man’s mother—who supposedly couldn’t breathe—was wearing an oxygen mask, who could argue with the patient’s son? There’s a special kind of suffocation called “your son thinks closing the door will stop you from breathing.”

Scenes like this were nothing new to the young nurse—or, more accurately, to any nurse on duty over the past month.

Ever since the patient in Room 1414 was admitted, her son had visited every other day, and each visit was accompanied by at least an hour of loud crying. He hated having the door closed while he wept, leading to constant complaints from other patients’ families.

The nurses had tried to remind him that he was disturbing others, but the patient—the old woman—overheard them. She yanked off her oxygen tube and chased the nurses halfway down the hallway, cursing them the entire way.

The on-duty doctor who witnessed the scene remarked that, given the old woman’s condition, walking that far was nothing short of a “medical miracle”—clearly powered by sheer willpower.

In short, she was not someone to be trifled with.

Besides, the old woman was seriously ill and didn’t have much time left, so the nurses stopped making a fuss.

*

No matter how bizarre others found the family in Room 1414, it didn’t stop Dong Zhenghao from grieving.

Mother and son clutched each other’s hands tightly, the old woman’s eyes brimming with tears as she listened to her son wail and call out for her.

In the corner of the room, Dong Zhenghao’s wife, Jiang Li, rolled her eyes discreetly. Beside her, a boy in his early teens fiddled with his phone, while a girl a few years older—around seventeen or eighteen—stared out the window, seemingly lost in thought.

The old woman’s name was Wang Guixiang. It wasn’t a pretty name, and her early life hadn’t been kind either. She lost her father as a child and was widowed young, raising her son alone. She had resigned herself to a life of hardship—until her son struck it rich.

For nearly twenty years, her son had been wealthy, a notable figure in Qingcheng, and she had spent those two decades as the mother of a rich man. Yet, none of that prosperity had refined her temperament.

In Jiang Li’s eyes, Wang Guixiang was petty, mean-spirited, utterly uncultured, and blatantly favored sons over daughters.

Jiang Li herself preferred their son, but the old woman’s favoritism even extended to her!

In this household, aside from Dong Zhenghao and their son Dong Qi, Jiang Li and their daughter Dong Yue were seen as freeloaders in the old woman’s eyes—constantly ordered around, never given respect, and repeatedly humiliated in front of Dong Zhenghao’s friends.

But what could she do? Dong Zhenghao was blind when it came to his mother—everything she did was right in his eyes.

Jiang Li had endured her for so long, and finally, the day had come.

Looking at the mother and son, not laughing out loud was the height of her restraint.

She had no interest in watching their sentimental display. Instead, she was already thinking about whether to move after the old woman passed away.

Their current house had been bought over a decade ago. Though it was a villa, it was outdated and a bit cramped. If not for the old woman stubbornly refusing to move, they wouldn’t still be living there.

Every time she went back home, her sister would flaunt the new villa she had moved into, which was downright irritating.

Just as she was lost in thought, Jiang Li suddenly saw her mother-in-law reaching for the oxygen mask.

Had something been said between them? The old woman seemed agitated.

Though she couldn’t care less, she still stood up and hurried to the bedside. “Mom, what’s wrong?”

Wang Guixiang didn’t even glance at Jiang Li. Still fumbling with the mask, she mumbled to Dong Zhenghao, “Son, your mother has wronged you!”

Dong Zhenghao didn’t take it seriously. “Mom, what are you talking about?”

Wang Guixiang clutched her son’s wrist, her words slurred. “It was me… I lost Little Wooden Head.”

It took Dong Zhenghao a moment to remember— Little Wooden Head was his first child.

He and Jiang Li were in a second marriage. Before this, he had been married once, and his ex-wife had left him with a daughter before divorcing him.

Back then, he was running a small business in Qingcheng, and the child had been left with his mother in their hometown. When the child was two or three, she was kidnapped. He had inquired at the local police station a few times, but there had been no leads. At the time, Jiang Li was pregnant, so he had put the matter out of his mind.

If not for his mother bringing it up now, he might have completely forgotten he’d ever had that child.

Jiang Li had known about his daughter when she got involved with Dong Zhenghao—back when he was still married. Hearing her mother-in-law mention it now made her stomach churn. She cursed inwardly—even on her deathbed, the old hag had to stir up trouble.

Unaware of his wife’s thoughts, Dong Zhenghao lowered his voice. “Mom, that was so long ago. It’s over. That child just wasn’t meant to be with our family.”

Wang Guixiang grew more agitated, gripping her son’s hand tighter. “These past few days, I keep dreaming of Little Wood as a child. I don’t know if she resents me now, or if she’s doing well…”

Dong Zhenghao hesitated before asking, “Do you want me to look for her?”

Wang Guixiang didn’t answer at first. After a long silence, she let out a trembling sigh. “This is the only regret I have in life. I can’t rest until I know. If I don’t find her, I won’t be able to close my eyes even in death!”

“Alright.” After all, it was his own flesh and bl00d. Even though she’d been lost since childhood, making an effort to find her would ease his mother’s mind. Dong Zhenghao agreed readily.

Seeing her son’s agreement, Wang Guixiang added, “I know finding someone isn’t easy. Even if we do find her, I probably won’t be around by then. You mustn’t treat her poorly.”

She then shot a sidelong glance at Jiang Li and said, “Little Wood is still your own daughter. As for the family money… of course, she won’t get a single cent. But you should prepare a decent dowry for her—maybe a house. That way, we’ve done right by her.”

Dong Zhenghao nodded. He held little hope of actually finding the child, so agreeing to his mother’s demands was no trouble. Even if they did locate her, gifting a house was well within his means.

Just then, Dong Zhenghao’s phone suddenly rang. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen before saying to Wang Guixiang, “Mom, I need to step out to take this call.”

Wang Guixiang released his hand, and Dong Zhenghao walked out of the hospital room with his phone.

“Hello?” he answered.

“Hello, is this Mr. Dong Zhenghao? This is the Qingcheng City Public Security Bureau.”

“The police?” Dong Zhenghao moved the phone away, checking the number again, suspecting a scam.

“Yes. A young woman named Liu Mumu has come forward, claiming to be your long-lost biological daughter. Could you come to the station?”

His mother had just mentioned Little Mutou, and now the police said they’d found her? If this weren’t real life, Dong Zhenghao might have thought he’d been targeted by some algorithm.

It took him a long moment to find his voice again. “M-my daughter?”

“Yes. According to our records, nineteen years ago, you reported in Dongshan City that your daughter, Dong Xinrui, had been abducted. She was never found, correct?”

“That’s right, but—” Dong Zhenghao rubbed his forehead. “I’ll be there right away.”

On the way to the station, countless thoughts raced through his mind. Few people in Qingcheng knew he’d lost a child, though it wasn’t exactly a secret. Maybe his mother had mentioned it to someone who’d remembered.

What was really going on with this girl? He’d have to see for himself.

For this child who’d appeared out of nowhere without him lifting a finger, Dong Zhenghao felt far more wariness than joy.

At the station, two officers quickly led him to a break room where he met the so-called biological daughter.

She was a young woman around twenty, dressed in a loose white T-shirt and denim shorts, her hair tied up in a messy bun with a tiny, ferocious-looking dinosaur dangling from the hairband.

She sat on a swivel chair, spinning restlessly left and right, showing none of the nervousness one might expect before meeting a long-lost father.

Dong Zhenghao paused outside the door for a few seconds before knocking.

The girl in the chair spun around to face him, their eyes meeting.

Liu Mumu pulled the lollipop from her mouth and looked up at the middle-aged man in a suit at the door—still bearing traces of the handsome youth he’d once been—and cheerfully called out, “Dad.”

Her tone was warm and natural, as if there had never been two decades of separation.

Staring at a face that bore a striking resemblance to his ex-wife, Dong Zhenghao was momentarily dazed.

His ex had been a rare beauty back in the day, and he’d gone to great lengths to marry her. They’d had their sweet moments, but more often than not, they’d clashed.

Later, his affair with Jiang Li was discovered, and their separation ended quite messily. There had been no news of her all these years.

Yet Dong Zhenghao had never forgotten her face.

Even without a DNA test, he was certain this girl was undoubtedly his daughter.

“Ah.” Dong Zhenghao instinctively responded.

By noon, with the help of the police officers, the two completed their paternity test at the identification center. The results would be available the next day.

After seeing off the two officers, only Dong Zhenghao and Liu Mumu remained.

Dong Zhenghao glanced at the young girl curiously looking around and cleared his throat before asking, “Do you have a place to stay?”

“No,” Liu Mumu answered bluntly.

“Then stay at a hotel for now. We’ll discuss further after getting the results…” He had initially intended to say he’d take her home once the results came, but the words died on his lips.

“Okay.”

After settling Liu Mumu in, Dong Zhenghao didn’t rush back to the hospital. Instead, he called his secretary from the car. Secretary Wang answered promptly.

“Boss?”

“Look into someone for me. Dig up everything—her background, who she’s been in contact with recently. I want it all.”