Chapter 27 Part 1

No warning, no preamble. Straight to the punch.

Shen Li had considered that Qian Xingzhi might ask about his leg, but he hadn’t expected the man to bring up rehabilitation so directly.

It was his own leg, after all, and Shen Li certainly understood the importance of rehab training. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have set such a rigorous training plan for himself. But a rehab center…

“Better not,” Shen Li said without much hesitation. “I can train at home. It’s been over a year now—no real need.”

The moment his words fell, there was an obvious pause on the other end of the line.

A few seconds later, Qian Xingzhi seemed to switch on speakerphone. His voice sounded more distant, laced with a subtle edge of sharpness.

“Why no need? Tell me your specific concerns. I’ll make a note.”

Shen Li frowned. “…What?”

Qian Xingzhi’s tone remained calm and measured, as if every word had been carefully chosen. There was a businesslike rigor to it, his voice cool and detached. “You can’t handle gait correction or complication management on your own. How could there be no need? But if you really don’t want to go, share your concerns. We can look for solutions together.”

This time, Shen Li was genuinely stunned.

In these seven years, Qian Xingzhi seemed to have completely changed his approach to handling things.

“Actually…” Shen Li started.

But he was cut off again. “Don’t brush me off.”

Shen Li’s expression darkened slightly, and his voice fell silent for a moment.

The other end waited quietly.

After a while—about thirty seconds or so.

Shen Li finally spoke. “It’s expensive, too far away. Rehab centers are mostly in big cities, at least tier-one or provincial capitals, or tier-two or three at best. And rehab is a long-term commitment, not something you finish in a day or two.”

“Oh, if those are the only issues, no need to worry,” Qian Xingzhi replied unhurriedly. “I partnered with someone to open a new one in the town near Geng Family Village. It’s about a forty-minute drive from the village.”

Shen Li’s frown deepened at that. He wondered if Qian Xingzhi had lost his mind.

Doing something so reckless?

Utterly absurd.

“No need for that, right?”

Shen Li couldn’t help raising his voice. Far from feeling touched, he found Qian Xingzhi’s actions utterly illogical. His tone turned cold, laced with accusation. “You say you opened a rehab center where?”

“Uh, in your town’s area.”

“What were you thinking?”

“I—” Qian Xingzhi had barely said one word when Shen Li cut him off, just as Qian had done to him moments earlier.

Shen Li’s voice rang out clear and crisp, carrying an innate chill like frost-coated ice—piercingly cold yet crystalline, as if it could instantly cool the air around him. His tone pressed aggressively.

“How could you possibly open a rehab center in Lianying Town? What about the qualifications, the market, the ongoing operations? Can you stop making these snap decisions that just waste resources?”

Shen Li’s words came out a bit harsh, a knee-jerk reaction.

After all, Qian Xingzhi had always been a man of strong action, but he never planned thoroughly. Many projects had suffered heavy losses, yet he never learned from them.

Shen Li could never have imagined that, seven years after their divorce, Qian Xingzhi would still pull something so self-indulgently emotional. It was ridiculous even to say it aloud.

“…”

But as soon as Shen Li finished speaking, he winced in real pain, his brows knitting tightly together. Instinctively, he reflected on whether he’d gone too far.

After all, Qian Xingzhi’s intentions had been for his sake.

The other end fell silent for a long moment before a voice came through again.

Even after being scolded, Qian Xingzhi’s voice betrayed no emotion, as flat as if he were discussing business. “Mm. Let me finish first.”

Shen Li closed his eyes, his face cold and silent.

Qian Xingzhi then asked, “You know Doctor Li in Lianying Town? The one who’s amazing at acupuncture and bone-setting.”

Shen Li thought for a moment.

“…You mean Li Cuiying?”

“Right,” Qian Xingzhi said steadily. “Li Cuiying retired from the town clinic a few years ago. Now she voluntarily treats people who seek her out at home. I went there in person before the New Year. She’s got her practice certificate up at home and sees patients there. Her reputation is so good that she’s packed every day—sometimes the line backs up into the residential building. It’s inconvenient, and with so many people, if a neighbor reports it, she could get hit with illegal practice charges since it’s not a proper clinic without the qualifications.”

Shen Li lowered his gaze, pondering for a moment. Some guesses formed in his mind.

“…So?”

“So before the New Year, I joined the town’s investment promotion meeting. They wanted to repurpose an expensive, idle nursing home into a medical-care center. My new rehab center is a public welfare project partnered with the town clinic. The county approved special funding. Besides the acupuncture therapy area, we’ve planned a daytime elderly care center. Your rehab room is actually in the reserved disabled persons’ rehab zone. I’ve also brought in a few professional therapists. All of it meets policy requirements.”

Shen Li: …

His brows relaxed slightly as he continued probing Qian Xingzhi for details. “But how did a town-level private facility get medical qualifications? The county health bureau… approves that through this partnership model?”

Shen Li wasn’t too familiar with this area, but Qian Xingzhi rattled off answers fluently, sounding intimately acquainted with every step.

“Yeah, the project is under the County Hospital’s name—they provide the qualifications, we provide the site. Doctor Li comes on as the resident expert. Plus, the province just issued the ‘Rural Medical-Care Integration Implementation Plan.’ This is a pilot project. We signed a ten-year deal with the town: tax-free for the first three years, half off for the next five. The Provincial Disabled Persons’ Federation has special subsidies too—holders of disability certificates can get twelve free rehab sessions reimbursed per month.”

Shen Li: …

“Oh, and on pricing, no worries there either. It’s basically at cost, and it accepts Medicare now. Way more convenient than going to Doctor Li’s home before.”

Shen Li: …

“…The pilot site has to meet Article 2 of the Ministry of Civil Affairs’ ‘Community Medical-Care Integration Service Standards.’ The Lianying Town nursing home meets the floor height and fire escape requirements. There’s a clinic patrol medical shuttle that passes Geng Family Village every day—it can pick you up for free. The one-way trip is forty or fifty minutes, but it’s only two or three times a week, not much time. If—oh, I mean if, if I end up living in Geng Family Village someday, I could drive you. It’d be even quicker.”

At this point, Qian Xingzhi seemed to feel he had nothing more to add.

Like an employee reporting to his boss, he even tacked on, “That’s about it,” with the same calm simplicity as when he’d first told Shen Li, “I found you a rehab center.”

But everything Qian Xingzhi had said far exceeded Shen Li’s expectations.

Shen Li simply listened, silently gripping his knee until the veins stood out on the back of his hand. Aside from a faint “mm,” he had no other words.

His knuckles pressed hard against the old scar on his thigh, nails nearly digging into the fabric weave.

Then Qian Xingzhi’s voice came through again. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll scan the project approval documents and send them tomorrow.”

Shen Li abruptly released his grip on his pant leg, his palm flushed an unnatural red.

Of course he understood the weight behind those document numbers—tracing provincial special funds, navigating city- and county-level health systems, coordinating stamps from at least three departments…

This was no spur-of-the-moment idea.

Shen Li’s Adam’s apple bobbed heavily. The dim warm glow of the small desk lamp on the table suddenly felt scorching, stirring restlessness in his chest.

Yet in the end, he heard his own voice emerge like porcelain dipped in ice water—abrupt but steady—as he thanked Qian Xingzhi.

“…Thanks.”

Polite, yet distant.

There was a two-second pause on the other end, followed by an arrogant snort.

“Tch, thanks for what? It wasn’t opened just for you.”

The man immediately shifted to a mocking tone, like a hedgehog bristling with quills. His magnetic voice dropped an octave, as if he’d instantly slipped into another role, his whole demeanor inexplicably arrogant again. “Tsk, when you were chewing me out just now, it was just like old times—fiercer than even Deputy Bureau Chief Guan.”

Shen Li: …

“I…”

“No need to apologize,” Qian Xingzhi yawned. “I’m used to you cursing me out.”

It had been so long since Shen Li last scolded him that he’d started feeling itchy all over.

Shen Li was indeed speechless, silent for a moment before replying coolly, “I never always cursed you out. Not even before the divorce.”

“Yeah, before the divorce, you were always apologizing.”

Qian Xingzhi’s voice sounded chill. “I meant back in school. You forgot?”

Shen Li: …

That was too far in the past.

“Especially right after Old Ban switched me to sit next to you. I skipped homework, zoned out in class, and you chewed me out like a dog every day.”

Shen Li recalled those distant days from over a decade ago. “That was Teacher Wang asking me to help with your studies.”

“Oh, stellar results, hugely effective,” Qian Xingzhi said with a soft, sarcastic laugh. “Wonder where that program’s gone now. Qian Haochen could really use it.”

Shen Li pressed his lips together, unsure if Qian Xingzhi was teasing him or just saying it offhand.

His fingers lightly rubbed the edge of his phone. The soft yellow light diffused through the air like a thin veil draping over the entire space.

It cast his faint shadow on the wall.

In the end, Shen Li just glanced at the clock on the wall, signaling an end to Qian Xingzhi’s reminiscing without diving deeper into old school memories. “It’s past one.”

His voice was faint.

Qian Xingzhi cut off abruptly.

After a beat, he said, “Got it. You sleep. I’ll tidy up.”

The tone on the other end chilled further. Shen Li frowned lightly, tilting his head to pull the phone away from his ear. He checked the call duration, unsure whether to hang up or keep the line open.

Qian Xingzhi added, “Hang up if you want. No big deal—no one’s gonna say anything.”

Shen Li thought for a moment and refused. “Nah. Since we already told the audience, we should follow the rules. Just turn your volume all the way down—or stick your phone in the bathroom.”

“Mm.” Qian Xingzhi acknowledged simply. “Then sleep. Don’t mind it.”

Shen Li didn’t reply. He extended his index finger, lightly brushing the volume button, but in the end, he didn’t press it down.

With an expressionless face, Shen Li placed his phone on the bedside table. His movements were gentle, and he plugged in the charging cable while he was at it.

Once the room fell silent again, there were no more sounds from Qian Xingzhi’s side either. Only the desk lamp emitted a faint light, which illuminated Shen Li’s profile and outlined his somewhat weary features.

Shen Li sat blankly in front of the desk lamp for a while.

A few minutes later, he pulled over the blanket, lay down on his side with his back to the phone, as if deliberately keeping a certain distance from it.

The soft blanket gently enveloped his body, and Shen Li’s breathing gradually evened out.

His fingers unconsciously rubbed against the metal edge of the bed. The cold, hard sensation traveled from his fingertips up to the back of his neck, bringing a faint shiver.

Shen Li didn’t know when he had fallen asleep, but in his daze, he seemed to hear someone sneeze a few times—close enough that it felt like the person was sleeping right beside him.

Perhaps it was those sneezes that led Shen Li into a dream.

In the dream, it was a rainy day, and the rain was pouring down heavily.