That night, when Wen Zhi returned home and changed her shoes, she saw that the lights in the living room were still on. Song Nianci was sitting on the sofa, wrapped in a cozy housecoat, a cup of ginseng tea beside her—lukewarm from sitting too long.
"Where were you?" Her mother looked up, eyes full of worry.
"Spent the night at a friend's place." Wen Zhi's voice was calm. "I'm fine. Don't worry."
But Song Nianci wouldn't let it go so easily. She pulled her down to sit beside her, unable to hold back. "You really broke up with Jiang Yushen? What happened?"
"He cheated. I saw it with my own eyes," Wen Zhi said quietly. She picked up the tea but didn't drink it. "I won't go back."
The living room fell silent for a while.
Then, Wen Jinhe walked out. His expression was much calmer than his wife's, and his voice low and steady: "Since it's over, your mother and I won't try to stop you. But—about the hospital, we can't keep putting it off."
Wen Zhi looked up at him, gaze unwavering. "You mean the blind date?"
Wen Jinhe nodded.
"The candidate has already been confirmed. He's from the Yan family—very suitable conditions," he said. "If this marriage goes through, it will help the hospital's transition and benefit the family's equity structure."
"…I don't want to get married," Wen Zhi said bluntly.
"This isn't about what you want," Song Nianci said, her tone a little anxious. "Ah Zhi, you're the only daughter of the Wen family. Your grandfather's traditional medicine clinic—that was something your grandmother personally entrusted to him before she passed. He's getting old now, and the board has been eyeing it for years—if you don't step up, it'll eventually fall into the hands of outsiders."
"You're forcing me," her voice turned cold.
Wen Jinhe didn't deny it. "We don't want to do this either. But you have to understand—if you don't want the hospital to be swallowed up, if you want to protect what your grandfather left behind, then marriage is the only leverage we have."
The air turned heavy.
Wen Zhi's fingers turned pale from gripping the teacup too tightly.
It wasn't that she hadn't considered saying no. It wasn't that she hadn't been angry at her family's manipulation.
But she also remembered the way her grandfather once held her hand in the consultation room, gently taking a patient's pulse, smiling as he told her, "Ah Zhi, this place will be your home someday."
She closed her eyes.
After a moment, her voice softened. "I'll go on the blind date—but just one condition: if I don't like him, I won't marry him."
A flicker of relief passed through Song Nianci's eyes. "Alright."
Wen Jinhe nodded too. "Just agreeing to meet is already a big step."
What they didn't know was that later that night, after returning to her room, Wen Zhi stared for a long time at the contact saved under the name "Thank you."
He hadn't messaged her again, but the card was still in her drawer, and every digit of that handwritten number was etched clearly in her mind.
She didn't know who he was, and never thought they'd meet again.
Let alone that—The next time they met, she'd be forced into formalwear, walking toward a blind date table, only to see that cold, refined man already sitting there, waiting for her.